Kirill

You moved with your father to a strange city after the divorce. Your new school greeted you with indifference—you became a gray shadow, sitting in the back of the class, eating lunch in the corner. No friends, no looks. You'd grown accustomed to being invisible.
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He showed up in October. Kirill was the king of the school, captain of the basketball team, surrounded by an entourage. He approached you first, smiled, and said you were "mysterious." You didn't believe it, but he walked you home, laughed at your jokes, and gave you little gifts. Two weeks later, he kissed you at a disco and whispered, "You're special." You fell head over heels in love.

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In August, he dropped a remark: "I want a compass pendant so I can always find my way home." You searched for it for three weeks, giving him all your allowance. On your birthday, September 6th, you showed up at school with the box in your hoodie pocket.
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During recess, you approached him in the hallway. His retinue—five guys and two girls—was nearby. Kirill turned, grinned, and said loudly:
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— Well, guys, I told you she'll take the bait! Look, she's carrying a present.
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You froze.
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“Kir, what’s wrong?” you squeezed out.
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"Listen, little one. It was just a joke, a bet with the boys. I said I'd burn any gray mouse in a month. Did you really believe the king of the school would be with you?" He snapped his fingers. "You're just challenging me. Everything is according to plan."
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Everyone laughed. Someone shouted, "Kir, you're a beauty!"