𝙎𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 - 𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙊 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙋𝙄𝙏 [𝙀𝙉𝙂]

𝙍𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙚

He went to a mirror that hung on the wall near a small desk, took out a fluffy snow-white hairbrush from the drawer in the desk and began combing his blond hair. The boys, and especially Dylan, often scoffed at him because he looked like a sheep with his fluffy hair. Oswald couldn't get it out of his head, because every time he looked in the mirror, he remembered Dylan's words:
"Well, well, you're not like Oswald the ocelot, you Oswald the ram!"

Oswald had finished combing his hair, or rather, he was just tired of trying to get his hair to fit snugly around his head. He put the comb down on the table and looked at the old clock on the wall, which was important ticking away. 7:48.

Oswald was suddenly struck in the head by the realization that he was almost late for school. He'd forgotten all about it. But the vacations were about to begin, so it was okay to be a little lazy at the end of the school year. The boy picked up his pre-packed briefcase lying on the floor and left the room, the same minute he started walking quickly down the creaky wooden steps to the first floor. No one met him except a meowing Jinx. His parents were at work, as usual. They were working much harder now than they had before, perhaps because the holiday, Oswald's twelfth birthday, was coming up. Still, on such an important day, one would need to be well prepared for everything. The boy didn't even know what was in store for him: another boring birthday party with homemade cake and some cheap superhero comics that no one even knew, or something exciting, like a trip out of town? Although they hadn't gone there in a long time...

 Oswald came into the hallway, put on his shabby white sneakers, and threw on his blue jacket, slightly torn at the sleeve. Oswald stopped his gaze on that very sleeve, where he could see the stitched holes from a dozen holes. He remembered exactly what had left that mark on his jacket. It had been two years since that moment, but he remembered it, and unfortunately it had not been a dream...

He woke up from thinking only five minutes later, quickly ran out of the house, and, locking the front door, ran to school, along the way saying hello to the neighbors who were leaving their houses, apparently to go to work, to school, to their business or somewhere else.

   

    

                               *   *   *

    

Oswald faltered a little the annoying, squeaky bell ringing. It was the end of fourth period, and Oswald still felt as if he had only just arrived at school. The day went by quickly.

He grabbed his shabby old briefcase and walked out into the hallway, trying to squeeze through his classmates as they left the classroom. Oswald began to make his way through the crowd in the hallway, somehow navigating the crowded space. All he had to do was make his way to the math classroom.

After a few minutes of walking in the crowd, he decided it would be better to wait elsewhere and then go to the right place after the bell.

Oswald went up to the third floor of the school and turned into the so-called "abandoned" corridor — no one used it. Accordingly, there were no people there and all the offices were closed. Oswald didn't know what they were for, but they were clearly not for classes, though maybe once upon a time children had been taught there, like all the other classrooms. He walked to the end of one of the corridors and leaned his back against the cold beige wall, breathing out in relief. He could finally get a break from people.

But as soon as he relaxed, several silhouettes emerged from around the corner — Oswald recognized them immediately, and they were the ones he certainly didn't want to see right now in a place like this.

The one on the left, with the green hair in erokez the black nose ring, and the punk-inspired ripping of his clothes, was Stephen, Dylan's best friend and the most annoying bully in school, who even the girls didn't like, so disgusting he was to everyone, but clearly not to his comrades.