Jason Conor slumped his fist on the table, staring at the dark computer monitor.

- Maaaam! He shouted irritably.

There was no answer. Squeezing his lips into an evil lane, he rose from his chair and walked to the door. He straightened his noseglasses and ran his hand through his thick, bushy hair. Sliding the latch, he opened the door, on which was a large inscription "The Captain's Cabin."

- Mama! He shouted again, looking into the stairwell.
- I don't want to hear anything Jason. - Said a strict female voice from below.
- Turn on the cable mom.
- No, I said. I do not want you to waste another day, sitting in four walls. Outside is such a wonderful weather.
- I only need to place one ad. - Jason raised his voice, and fell on the falsetto on the last word. But Mom! If you break the connection for a long time I will be blocked by ip ...

The figure of the mother appeared on the landing between the second and first floors. She looked irritated at her son.

- Stop talking abstruse things. Even though I don't understand anything about it, you won't be able to fool my head.
- Because you do not want! - muttered Jason under his breath.
- What did you say young man?
- Nothing mom.
- Do not be clever Jason. Turn off the computer and go out!

Before he could insert another word, the woman turned and disappeared from view. The boy remained to retreat, slamming the door of his room from the heart. He stopped at the threshold and sighed heavily. He crossed his arms over his bare chest.

He got out of bed only half an hour ago, managed to pull on his jeans when he saw a message on the Star Trek forum that was required to be answered immediately. The written text flickered on the monitor, still trying to reach the addressee through a connection that no longer existed.

Jason sat down in a chair and copied the message to send it later. He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest again. The boy thought that his mother did not act fairly. He is already ... years old and he is not a child. And has the right to use the Internet when he wants! He somehow forgot that just a month ago, with a fight, he achieved that he would keep the door to his room closed so that he could use the Internet for what he wanted. Jason was sure that his parents would be crazy if they knew about half of the things he downloaded to his hard drive during that time.

With that thought, he glanced at the corner of the table and reached for the closed drawer. The guy rummaged in him and extracted a small color photo of a charming red-haired girl with a wide and perky smile. The caption read Heather Sovert.

Jason cut a photo from the high school yearbook for the last semester. He looked at the photo again and sighed. At times, it seemed to him that it was incredibly stupid to keep this photo. He was not so naive as to believe that he has a chance to become familiar with this ... summer, amazingly beautiful girl. All his hopes collapsed when, out of stupidity, he told about his passion for almost the only friend of Richie.

He snorted derisively and said: Dude, you have no chance. She never even looks in the direction of such a nerd as you. I doubt that she even guesses about your existence.

However, this did not prevent Jason from dreaming about her, however. Constantly undergoing attacks of puberty hormones, these fantasies were rarely platonic in nature. Jason threw the picture on the table, feeling like a member stirred in jeans. Now that his mother had destroyed all his plans for the day, he could not afford to indulge in regular obscenity, not having a chance to get relief. His constant dreams of Heather forced the boy to constantly search the Internet for photos of at least some red beauties like her.

He turned off the monitor and stood, trying not to look at the mirror attached to the door. Jason hated his reflection. Thin, slouching, awkward real freak. He chose a long-sleeved shirt, despite the fact that the day promised to be very hot to hide the hideous thinness of his hands, although he was well aware that this would make him miserable by noon. Jason looked around the room and grimaced contemptuously. If Heather saw her, she would laugh to tears. Sometimes she confused even Jason himself. All the walls are hung with posters of technical drawings and diagrams, from the starships of the Star Trek series, the dresser table and all other suitable flat surfaces are lined with models and miniature figures of the heroes of the same series. Even Richie giggled giggling when he saw it all.

The boy sighed and changed his shirt, replacing it with a checkered pullover, and left the room before his mother began to give him a new lecture.

It was already quite warm outside. A small suburban area in northern Haven has long awakened. Down the street, several lawn mowers chafed at once, and in front of their house little children argued hysterically about something. The boy frowned down the street, his hands in his jeans pockets and his shoulders hunched.

... and what does she want from me? What should I do all day? Walking down the street from corner to corner?

Jason didn’t like Haven. Having lived here for 3 years, he was still angry with his father because they moved to this small sleepy town from the metropolis, where he grew up. At least there was always a place to go there, museums ... a planetarium. There was nothing in Haven! Their move did not have any logic. My father worked in a hospital in the neurosurgery department, was considered a good specialist, had excellent career prospects, and suddenly, overnight, he decided to move to this sleepy town, obviously losing his salary.

The boy looked at him frowningly at what was happening in the other courtyards of the adjacent two-story houses of the same type and made a contemptuous grimace. He hated this "rural" life. Turning around, he wandered to the end of the quarter. The street curved smoothly to the right, running to the easternmost tip of the town. The annoying noises subsided as he approached the intersection.

Around the corner a dog barked. A few seconds later, a stick was flying in his field of vision. She started on the asphalt, followed by a small mongrel who was chasing her. Jason froze, staring at the black, stained dog, impatiently kicking the stick in its unsuccessful attempt to grab it. He immediately recognized the homeless dog, who was fed by all the children of the street, secretly from their parents. And most of them were hooligans who didn’t give Jason a pass at school. So the boy involuntarily tense up, sensing possible trouble.

The dog finally managed to grab onto the stick with his teeth, and he happily rushed in the opposite direction. Jason looked tensely to the left and relaxed to see his friend Richie.

- To me boy! Shouted Richie.

The dog, noticing the second person, slowed down and stopped, twitching in random directions, as if he could not choose who would take the prize. Finally he made his choice and rushed to the freckled disheveled boy who was standing on the corner. Richard Gardner snatched the stick from his mouth. The dog happily grunted and wagged its tail, bouncing in the air, trying to snatch the toy from his hands.

- Hello. He shouted to Jason, raising his hand up.

Jason waited until Richie threw a stick and only after that he approached a friend.

“I never waited for you at IEM.” - Said the guy with a smile that seemed forever stuck to his round face.
- Mom blocked my oxygen! - Jason replied gloomily.

He glanced nervously at the dog, who, seizing the stick, rushed back. He did not like dogs, unlike most children. More precisely, just afraid, but hid it. He waited until Richie took the stick away from the dog and ran it in a big arc and continued:

- And what is his name today?
- Tramp.
- Well, yes, that name suits him.
- He responds to any nickname, if you give him sausage ....