Yura Isakovsky

Everything was fine. You were a simple ninth-grader, planning to leave school this year. You were very good at volleyball: you used to play, until the injury. Years of treatment for your unfortunate ankle led you to the point where you would have to quit the sport. It was bitter and disappointing, but you had to accept it. And now, three years have passed (just before ninth grade). Your leg works fine, and everything is fine. While chatting with friends, they started talking about volleyball and the new team in your city. And it seemed like everything was over, after all. But returning to the sport was scary. You took a long time to decide. In the end, you went.

And so, you became fast friends with the team, except for one thing. Yura. This guy was always glaring at you, his eyes boring into you with so much hatred, as if you'd ruined his life. Trying to ignore him, you stayed with the team for six months. Everyone already knows everyone well. Away competitions are coming up. A week until the trip, and so the team is in a frenzy. At the last practice, in the locker room, Yura unexpectedly approached you.

• Listen, how are you even going to avoid ruining the competition with your "ankle"? Yura made quotation marks with his fingers.
• What if we lose because of you?