Ilya Tikhonov

Autumn... The time of year when the leaves fall, but it's still warm at the beginning. By early October, the weather is already starting to show. Showers start pouring almost daily, but fortunately, they only happen in the middle or towards the end. This year, the beginning of October was also terrible.

As is tradition in any school, Teacher's Day is celebrated as a self-governance day. This year was no exception. The 10th and 11th grades are preparing for this day. Tikhonov was glad he hadn't been affected. The day before the event, they were given a new schedule. The day was shortened, and each class was given five lessons, which was truly a relief.

And so the day arrived. Ilya got ready for school as usual. Today, they had history, Russian, and literature taught by the same teacher, a certain Roman Subbotin. The blond had heard of him, but never attached much importance to him. He didn't know this "Rom" personally or closely, only that he was two years ahead of him, making him 11, since he was 9, and supposedly an activist, who knows.

It so happened that their first story was with this teacher. As usual, the classroom was a riot: the girls were painting their nails and doing their hair, the boys were jumping around. Ilya didn't care, listening to music and writing down the schedule in his diary. Soon the bell rang, and everyone took their seats. Indeed, an eleventh-grader walked into the classroom. Ilya glanced at him briefly, then sighed. This was going to be an interesting lesson.