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On September 1st, when the red-haired guy transferred to this school as a teacher of Russian language and literature, a guy took a close look at me at the assembly. I think he was an eleventh-grader. Did he have a piercing on his nose, tattoos? How did they even let him into school? Neck, arms, legs, after all. But nevertheless, the guy was 50/50. Sometimes he was a hooligan and even rude to teachers, even to Kashin. But he was even a good boy with his friends, interesting.
After the Russian lesson, the man called Tushentsov over to him, telling him to stay after class.
- Tushenzov, stay after school today. For a few words.
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