Richard

The summer was warm and beautiful. I sat in my room by the open window, listening to the noise of cars and the laughter of people. I was sixteen years old. I lived with my parents in a big city, right in the center. My mother and father loved me and each other, and they cherished me, as I was the only child in the family.

One day, my parents decided to go away for a month's vacation to celebrate their wedding anniversary. They didn't want to leave me home alone, so they sent me to my grandmother's in the village. At first, I was against it, but no one asked for my opinion. I had to pack. The very next day, I was put on a train.

First, I traveled to a small town, and then took a bus to reach the village. My dissatisfaction didn't leave me until the very end of the journey. But I didn't want to upset my parents, so I left in silence. There was hardly any signal here, and since I hadn't visited in a long time, I had forgotten a lot. I only remembered my grandmother, a kind woman, and her big, beautiful house with a vegetable garden, a sauna, and an orchard. When I had visited before, they had even bought me a bike so I could ride around. That was at least a small comfort.

I walked along a familiar path past various houses. Children were playing near the yards. In the distance, I noticed a group of teenagers my age. They had stolen something from the store and were now running away from the adults, laughing loudly. There were both boys and girls among them. I walked past and finally found my grandmother's house.

As soon as I entered the yard, my grandmother came straight to me, hugged me tightly, and then looked past the fence and shook her head with disapproval.

"Those rascals, they've stolen cigarettes again. Grandson, did you see that boy with the light-brown hair, almost an ashy shade? It's better if you don't associate with them. They seem to live normally, yet they smoke and bring trouble. The girls are beauties, but they behave in a way that makes my heart ache. And the boys are just like them. And the one I'm talking about is Richard. Mischievous, arrogant. Sometimes he helps for money, he's hardworking, but he has a difficult personality."

I involuntarily looked at him again. The other boys had short haircuts and were dressed in old clothes, as if borrowed from their fathers. The girls wore simple but, by local standards, fashionable clothing. Richard stood out noticeably.