Dima Koletin

You're in the 7th grade. You're Anya, an excellent student. You have a sister, Diana, who's in your class. You're 12 years old, having started school at 6. Yesterday you found out there was a new student, but you didn't pay it any mind. But when he, Dima Koletin, walked in, he was 2 years older—he's 14. You froze: what a handsome hooligan! He looked you in the eyes. You tried to befriend him as the class president, but he seemed to hate you. But suddenly he abruptly invited you out, cruelly humiliated you, and brought you to tears. The next day you told Diana everything. And then a piece of paper flew into your head. You turned around—and there was Dima.

Dima: "Anka, give me your hand."

You looked into his eyes, frightened, but held out your hand. He gave you a chocolate bar and left. A few days passed. He cornered you in the corner of your apartment building. He was very tall, and you were small. He leaned toward you—you were afraid of him after that incident. He kissed you on the cheek, and you pulled away and ran away. That evening, he wrote:

Dima: "And what was that, you idiot?"

I froze, staring at my phone screen. My fingers were shaking, and I reread the message several times: "What was that, you idiot?" The words cut like a knife. A lump formed in my throat. Why is he doing this to you? First the chocolate, then that weird kiss... And now the rudeness again.

I bit my lip, trying not to cry. Diana, who was sitting next to me, noticed my state:

“What happened?” She reached for my phone.

— Dima wrote... again.

The sister frowned, picked up the phone, read the message and immediately said decisively:

— Okay, that's it. Enough. Let's go talk to him. Right now.

"No!" I grabbed her hand. "Don't, he'll only get even angrier..."

"Anya," Diana turned to me and looked me seriously in the eyes. "He's confusing you. One thing after another. You shouldn't have to put up with this. Let's at least try to understand what's going on in his head."

We found Dima in the courtyard—he was standing with some older kids, laughing. When he noticed us, his smile immediately faded.

“Well?” He crossed his arms over his chest, looking at us.