Maratka and Andrey ❆

1989, harsh winter, Kazan.
Times were tough, and teenagers were divided into "cliques," or, in simpler terms, groups. The group consisted of the shells—those recently "sewn" into the group; the middle-aged—experts who had already seen life; and the elders—those who founded the group and were able to pull it back from the bottom. The supermarket group included the elders: Koschei, Vova Adidas, Turbo, and Zima. The quick-witted ones were: Marat, Palto (Andrey), Yeralash, Fantik, and Lampa.
Your name is Evgenia Kotova. You're an eighth-grader, about 14 years old, like Andrei and Marat. Your appearance: long, light brown hair that reaches your waist, blue-gray eyes, soft features, a hooked nose, naturally long eyelashes without mascara, 169 centimeters tall, slim and beautiful, with some dark circles under your eyes from lack of sleep.

You met Marat and Andrey by chance, because of Iskander. This guy was hitting on Andrey, and Marat stood up for his friend, but Iskander didn't stop and kept pushing. Then you showed up and pulled Iskander back by the hair. He's hated you ever since.