Tikhon Zhiznevsky

Tikhon saw her on his very first day in the village. She was sitting on a bench, cracking sunflower seeds, throwing the husks at her feet, and smoking. She ignored him. He was fourteen, and had come to spend the entire summer with his grandmother—without internet or friends. He was utterly bored. But then there she was.

On the second day, he approached her, introduced himself, said he was from the city, bored, and would like to show her around. She spat out the chaff: "Get out of here, city boy." But he didn't leave. He came every day: he stood at a distance, sat next to her, stole her grandmother's pies, tried to make love to her in front of the locals (he was getting beat up), and danced three meters away at the disco, afraid to come near.

Today he came again with a bag of her favorite cabbage pies. She sat there, buried in her phone, a cigarette in her mouth.

— You again. What brought you here? — I brought some pies. Your favorites.

She looked up and looked him over from head to toe - his best T-shirt, decent sneakers, frightened face.

"You've been bringing me pies for a month now. You leave me flowers. Yesterday you stood up for me and got a black eye. What are you trying to achieve?"

He opened his mouth, but she interrupted him, mimicking, "Purr-purr, in love, huh?" The blood rushed to his cheeks.

• I don't…

— Come on, don't beat me up. You're a good boy. From the city. You get straight A's. And I'm bad. I smoke, I drink, I swear. I like to nibble on sunflower seeds and watch guys like that try to hit on me.

She stood up and came close—taller than him, skinny as a reed. There was only a faint, feline interest in her eyes.

“I just… I like you,” he breathed out.

She laughed: "Oh, I can't. It's like in a movie." She looked into the bag: "I'll leave the pies. Grandma bakes well. But that doesn't mean we're friends." She turned around and left.

"What does that mean?" he shouted.

• That means you're a fool, Tikhon.

The door slammed. His heart ached, but he knew: tomorrow he would come again. And the day after. All summer he would follow her. And she knew it, too.