it already was. In the middle of the tenth grade, when a geography teacher entered the classroom and suddenly announced that Skvortsov was getting a deuce for a quarter, because she did not pass the important work in time. Then, sitting at the desk, Seryozhka felt a sharp heartbeat and hot moisture in his pants ... Now everything was much more serious. Now it looked like an article.

Crying, the girl rushed away from the room, on the move pulling up pants and pants. I got into the corridor, dressing noisily.

- Do you even know how to communicate with girls? - She exclaimed, appearing in the doorway of the room, disheveled, in an unbuttoned coat.
- Or can you only listen to your shitty music? - evil and poisonous cried out she again hid in the corridor.

Deafeningly slammed the front door.

Sergey also refueled on stiff legs, feeling a sore taste in his throat and pants in his trousers, stumbled into the corridor. Holding a swollen ear with one hand, he lifted mittens, forgotten by Sveta on the nightstand ...

Three days later, he threw them in the trash, deciding with anger to never again and never communicate with the girls, and now Sergey was sitting on the sofa, struggling with tears, staring blankly at the wall in front of him ...

* * *
It was already getting dark outside the window. Without turning on the light, Seryozhka thought about why everything is happening this way. What did he do wrong? What is his mistake or what is his fault? Why did Light react so and what should he do next? Unable to find the answers, Starling curled up on the sofa, pressing his palm to the swollen ear, and fell asleep, wandering in the wilds of his confused consciousness.

1982, spring

Another year has passed. Sergey still did not lead acquaintances with girls, did not go anywhere with them and did not invite them home, more and more often catching on himself the worried looks of his parents. Instead, he bought a large English-Russian dictionary and began translating the lyrics of his favorite foreign groups.

Having been promoted at work, Skvortsov became a foreman, the salary increased, the young man was able to buy all the records that he had found. He was missing his small room. Having dismantled a small closet from old rubbish, Seryozhka assembled and hung a new shelf there on the wall, glancing in the direction of the large parent room ...

And in the autumn there was a turning point in the life of twenty-two-year-old Sergei Skvortsov.

* * *
Returning from the dacha, the young people noticed three girls standing on the side of the road. Sergey stretched his neck, sitting in the back seat of the car, peering into the muddy rain from the glass, looking at the wet girls. Something was wrong in them, something strange, but Skvortsov still could not understand what it was. And it wasn’t even the case that the girls kept bags and newspapers above their heads, trying to hide from the rain, it seemed that with all of their appearance the girls attracted attention, attracted the eyes, evoked bad thoughts that were not inherent to the Soviet citizen ...

- Andryukh, do we need girls? - Alexey loudly asked, smoothly stopping the car.

Sergey was nervous, turning around and looking in the rear window at a strange trinity. The girls talked about something to each other, looking toward the car.

- It would be better if we hitched them on the way to the dacha, but it will come down like that ... - answered Andrei, opened the front door window and lit a cigarette.
- Gray, what do you think? - Alex asked, looking at Skvortsov in the rearview mirror.

Sergey sat silently, looking at the windshield wipers, scraping the wet windshield of the car. There was a knock, Skvortsov started. Alex lowered the glass door.

- Boys, do you need girls? - the blonde's wet head stuck into the salon.
- Well, just three, - the girl looked at the guys, and Sergei's heart sank.
- Needed. “Starling, move over there,” said Leshka, raising the glass.

Sergey did not even have time to understand how the door opened next to him and the same wet blonde appeared in jeans and a wet blouse. Quickly taking to the right, Skvortsov pressed himself into the right door and hid, frightened looking at his comrades.

At the same moment, three girls got into the car: a blonde and two brunettes. Despite the young man, because of the cramped clinging to Sergei's shoulder, the blonde moved her hip, settling herself comfortably, squeezing even more frightened Seryozhka at the door, looking at Andryukha and Lyoshka. The last girl with the cotton closed the door, and in the cabin there was silence, broken only by the sound of rain.

- Where are we going, girls? - asked Lyoshka, and it seemed to Sergey that his friend knows where, just need to ask.
“The same place as you,” the blonde answered as the eldest, turned to Skvortsova and winked at him cheerfully.
- Seryog, if the cops slow us down - these are our friends, we are returning from the dacha - Aleksey warned Seryozhka and started the engine ...

While we were driving, Skvortsov looked into the glass, his knees pressed and pressing against the door, feeling the fellow traveler’s shoulder on his shoulder. He already knew that the blonde name is Alla, and her two friends - Masha and Vika.

- And what is your friend so modest? Everything is silent ... How can I even call him? - Alla said, gently pushing Sergey with her hip.
“He has never been with ...” began Andrei and stopped himself.
“Sergei,” grunted Skvortsov, blushing deeply.

The blonde opened her eyes in surprise, painting a grimace of surprise on her face.

- I choose Sergey! - trying to give her cue as a joke, Alla spoke loudly, theatrically embracing Skvortsov and putting her wet head on his shoulder.

Sergey smiled wryly, staring out the window again. He was not left by the anxious feeling that, by the will of the mocker-case, he got into something dirty, unpleasant and slippery, into something impartial and simply fucking ...

* * *
“Gray, we’ll have a few words,” Alexey stopped the car when they had already entered the city.

Rejoicing over short-term deliverance, Sergey hastily opened the passenger door.

“You are not bzd,” Aleksey began, taking Skvortsov by the elbow, slightly leading him away from the car.
“Now we’ll throw you away, and then we’ll go by ourselves,” he continued, lighting a cigarette.
“This is all normal,” he assured, seeing the uncomprehending look of his comrade.
- Just fuck her well, well, pay her five - and then thank you yourself for telling us. She's a damn - she doesn't even give a shit, you don't even think of anything like that, even if you play cards with her to undress, and don't pay attention to Drona, he first talks and then thinks ...

“You seem to like this Alla herself,” Alexey finished, when they returned to the car.

Opening the door, Sergey saw in his place a blonde woman, moved by Andrey and Andrey himself, sitting between Alla and Vika. Embracing the brunette, his tongue, like ice cream, the young man playfully licked Vicki’s lips, thrusting his second hand between the prostitute’s slightly divorced knees, lifting up her skirt. The girl, not wanting to lag behind, sought to catch Andryukha's stubborn language with her tongue, like a cat squinting her eyes and smiling merrily.

- Lyokh, you got Masha, do you mind? - Andrew said, licking Vickin cheek, squinting at the second brunette, sitting near the door.
“Starling, sit on the front ... We are busy here,” added Andrew, baring Wicky thighs and sticking his hand into her white girl's panties.

Closing the door, for a split second Sergey saw a bush of Vicky’s black pubic hair and heard a cheerful, slightly nervous girlish laugh.

From everything he saw and heard Skvortsov wanted to run away from here without looking back, to close in his room and never go out of it.

* * *
Sergey opened the car door and gallantly extended his hand.

“What is ... unusual,” Alla gasped in surprise, stretching out her palm, and the young man noticed a mixture of surprise and admiration in her eyes.

Feeling a warm, slightly damp girlish skin, Skvortsov helped Alla out of the car, and the car sped off into the darkness, leaving the young people alone with each other.

- You live here, right? - the girl said, looking at the entrance of Seryozkina house.
“Yes,” the couple stood under the lantern, each looking in its own direction.
- Do you live alone or what? - Alla turned to Sergey, peering into his face.
“With my parents,” answered Skvortsov, despite the girl.

Alla stretched her lips, silently pronouncing something like “fucking”, looking at the wall of the house with doubt.

- So, four rubles - and I stay with you until the morning, if not - then give me the money for a taxi and drop on all four sides, - said the girl, changing her voice in a hoarse voice, changing her face.

From these words of her, Sergei felt that he had fallen into a vat of shit and could not get out of it ... The silence was dragging on.

“Let's go,” he finally said, taking the girl by the hand, walking with her to the front door.
- Your parents are at home? - Alla released her hand, walking next to the young man.
- Houses. I will tell them that you are my girlfriend, - Sergey answered, opening the door, letting a prostitute pass by, who is unaware of how he fell on his head ...