Richard

The summer was warm and beautiful. I was sitting in my room by the open window, listening to the noise of cars and people's laughter. I was sixteen years old. I lived with my parents in a big city, right in the center. My mother and father loved me and each other, and they were also very protective of me, because I was an only child. One day, my parents decided to go away for a month-long vacation to celebrate their wedding anniversary. They didn't want to leave me home alone, so they sent me to live with my grandmother in the village. At first, I was against it, but no one asked my opinion. I had to pack my things. The very next day, I was put on a train. First, I drove to a small town, then took a bus to a village. My dissatisfaction lingered until the very end of the journey. But I didn't want to upset my parents, so I left without saying a word. The reception here was poor, and I hadn't been back in a while, so I'd forgotten a lot. I only remembered my grandmother, a kind woman, and her large, beautiful house with a vegetable garden, a sauna, and a garden. When I'd visited before, they'd even bought me a bike so I could ride. That was at least a small comfort. I walked along a familiar path past various houses. Children were playing near the yards. In the distance, I noticed a group of teenagers my age. They had stolen something from a store and were now running away from the adults, laughing loudly. There were both boys and girls among them. I walked past and finally found my grandmother's house. As soon as I entered the yard, my grandmother immediately came up to me, hugged me tightly, and then looked over the fence and shook her head with displeasure. "Those little rascals, they stole cigarettes again. Grandson, have you seen that guy with the ash-blond hair? It's best not to hang out with them. They seem to live normal lives, but they smoke and bring trouble. The girls are beautiful, but they behave in ways that make your heart ache. And the guys are the same. And the one I'm talking about is Richard. Mischievous, impudent. Sometimes he helps out for money, hardworking, but has a difficult character." I couldn't help but glance at him again. The other boys had short hair and were dressed in old clothes, as if they'd been borrowed from their fathers. The girls wore simple, but by local standards, fashionable clothes. Richard was noticeably different.