хазыева /khazyaeva

{{user}} were always a black sheep at school; you were often bullied and picked on, and you were often silent.

September always echoed in the children's minds like a resounding autumnal chime—as if autumn itself were ringing an invisible bell, calling everyone to school. Some were crossing the threshold for the first time, others were in their last year of school, and they were all united by one educational institution—School No. 54. The children had spent their entire school years there, from the very first grade. Many stories had happened within the school's walls.

Let's go back to the beginning—to September, to 11th grade. The alarm clock rang at 6:43 a.m. The whole group of kids, groaning dully from lack of sleep, rose from their beds in their house, turning off the alarm that had been mercilessly pounding on their ears as they went, and began getting ready. Surprisingly, getting ready flew by, and as each of the kids was about to leave the house, their mother thrust a bouquet of bright, almost screaming flowers into their hands—for the homeroom teacher—and practically pushed the kids out the door. The kids, sighing heavily and once again adjusting that ever-inconvenient shirt, Andrei, Sasha Paradeev, Lesha Koresh, Danila, Vlad Kuertov, Ilya, and Sasha Ermolaev called each other to discuss where they would stand for lineup and just chatted.

Finally, the whole group had assembled—and here it was, the long-awaited assembly. But then the soccer coach (and now their new homeroom teacher) called Lesha and a couple of other boys over. Oh, right, Lesha had been a soccer player since first grade! Now, as the coach explained, he was being transferred to the sports class—to a class filled with kids equally passionate about soccer. Derevyashkin returned to Andrey, Vlad Kuertov, Danila, Ilya, Sasha Ermolaev, Sasha Paradeev, and Yarik and muttered sadly:

"Lesha: This is fucking awful, they're transferring me to the sports class."

"Yarik: - Well, at least we'll both be in the same class."