Let it be. You're better off," Mom said. She remained unmoved.

How tired I am of arguing and arguing! She does not understand me and will not understand! Cyril will continue to mock, and at every opportunity he will recall what happened today. He does not realize that he offended me, he will not apologize. Cyrus is stubborn and vindictive. He will bend his line until he gets tired. And I... And what am I? I will continue to look at him stealthily, envy Oksana, because she is constantly next to him, and hope that one day I will have the strength to resist Kirill. To resist in such a way that after my words they would mock him, and not me myself!

Angrily slamming the door, I began to change. Mom barked at me not to dare freak out in her house. Let him scream what he wants. I don't care.

Pulling on my pajamas and proudly refusing dinner, I fished a dusty pink notepad out of my desk drawer and plopped down on the bed with it. My best friend. Someone who knows my every thought about him. My diary. A photograph of me and Kira is pasted on the flyleaf. It was my mother who took a picture of us three years ago, when Kirill first went to our school. He's so handsome, but a little lost, and I... I'm a fat woman with stupid pigtails, dressed in a plaid skirt and a hated blouse with flounces. I look like a big marshmallow in it - the same round! But I smile in this photo as if my cheeks are about to tear. My best friend is next to me, and this is a reason for joy.

For some time after the first of September, when this photo was taken, he stayed close to me, as with the only classmate he knew, and in general looked rather confused. I became Cyril's guide and true friend. The first semester we sat at the same desk with the permission of the class teacher. In those unforgettable months, Cyrus and I formed our own fragile little world, hidden from everyone else. Then he became close to Misha, and, of course, it was much more interesting to be friends with the boy.

After the New Year holidays, Kirill was transferred to another girl, and once again I felt that I had to share a friend with a large number of people. Cyrus turned out to be incredibly sociable, and easily made friends among his classmates. He managed to make friends even with those whom I could not stand. At the end of the school year, Kirill joined the company of guys who preferred not to notice me, and moved away even more. He was drawn to the strong, aspired to a high position in the class, and being friends with me was both unprofitable and unpromising.

We were no longer best friends either in the yard or at school. And soon I became Homa for him, and Kir considered it his duty to point out my weight to me over and over again. He decided that he could offend me with impunity, and I only weakly snapped, which provoked more and more mocking jokes. Why did Kirill choose me as the punching bag? No answer. No matter what, I stayed by my side and still called him my friend.

Everyone says that at my age there is no true love, but I am sure that they are lying or do not understand anything about it. I know for sure that I love Cyril! I love you like no one will ever love him! And don't let him know about it. That's better.

* * *

It was almost dark when I finally turned onto our street. There was no mood. The English teacher shook the soul out of me in this class. I never had an interest in languages, and even the tutor came across as if before entering the foreign language, she worked as a gatekeeper of Hell.

At the wooden table, where a company of grannies usually gathered for evening gatherings, my friends settled down. Or rather, not mine. Suddenly it turns out to quietly pass by? It's almost dark, you can slip through.

I was almost out of the danger zone when my pocket phone rang. His nasty sound reverberated for many meters around, announcing that Homa was trying to shamefully sneak past. Mom called. I didn't even doubt it. She, like no one else, knew how to pick up the most inopportune moments.

- Oh, Hamster! Kirill's exclamation made me cringe. - Khoma gnawed at the granite of science? Look what cheeks you gnawed!

Escape is no longer possible.

“Less envy, Kirill,” I muttered, turning around. If you really meet with the enemy, then only face to face.

Who would have known how fast my heart beat! For a week now we have been on opposite sides of the barricades, and it's terrible.

“Kir, you should be more careful, otherwise you will get it from her mother again,” Misha laughed.

– That's right, Miha, I didn't think about that. What if my parents go to complain? He will tell you what kind of bullshit they brought up. That's what she called me, Hamster? Am I wrong?

What are you up to, Kirk? I'm not responsible for my mom!

His voice trembled, no matter how hard I tried to give him a little confidence.

- And who complained to mom that ill-mannered Kirill offends you? Snitch!

- I didn't complain. She looked out the window and heard you call me.

“Storyteller,” Cyrus snorted. - Mom's snitch.

The whole company burst out laughing. My cheeks flushed with anger.

- You are not just a boor, but a freak, what to look for! I'm a Hamster, what do you think? Then you are a gnome!

Cyrus, indeed, has been shorter than me lately, and now it has played into my hands.

“It’s better to be a dwarf than a fat cheeky snitch,” Kirill grunted angrily. He even came close to me. Who but me will tell you the truth? You are not beautiful. What to do with it? You are unlikely to find a boyfriend for yourself, and if you continue to complain to your mother, then you will become without friends.

I couldn't get out another word. Throat treacherously squeezed. I couldn't help myself and tears ran down my cheeks.

I had a second to decide what to do next, and I decided. Shamefully ran away.

- I told you what others did not dare to say! Your Zhenya thinks so too! Cyril's words came to me.

Tears filled my eyes. I ran almost to the touch. God, just to get home. And there is mom. She won't understand and will scream again.

At the entrance, I stopped between the first and second floors and slid down the wall. No, I'm not going home now.

Tears rolled and rolled down her cheeks. I sobbed, biting into my fist. If only no one heard or looked out. Why is Cyril so cruel to me? I have always been for him, from our first meeting!

Three years ago, their family moved to the next entrance, and Cyrus went out for a walk for the first time. He was so defenseless. I was the first to approach him to get acquainted and invited him to play with my friends. And now they are his friends. They all laugh at me together and suck up to Cyril! I tried my best to be with him, supported and helped, and became the most faithful companion. But in the end it turned into a punching bag, on which Cyrus trained his wit. He doesn't deserve to be my friend!

I sat leaning against the wall and thinking about Cyril until my knees ached. It's time to go home.

* * *

My legs ached from the long pedaling, but I did not give up. Zhenya trained every day, so such a long distance was easy for her, but I rode after her on my old bike with the last of my strength. Where are you, second wind?

We've been riding for over an hour now. The roads of our city were far from the bike paths that now and then flashed in American films, so not only my legs hurt, but also the fifth point. No, you can't give up. If I want to lose weight, I have to force myself to move and exercise. No one will ever dare to call me fat again!

“You are not beautiful. What can be done here? This memory drove me forward and made me grit my teeth. A month has passed since our quarrel with Kirill. Summer holidays have come, and free time has noticeably increased.

I persuaded my mother to take me to a beautician. A start was made. A nice woman wrote out a recipe for "talker" and ordered her to wipe her face, and also did a cleaning, after which I could not look at myself in the mirror for two more days. It was worth it because the nasty acne situation improved.

About a week ago, I decided to tell Zhenya about what Cyrus had told me. She only snorted, calling Cyril an idiot, and promised that he would regret his words. She was the one who made me fish the bike out of the pantry that my mom had thrown in there three years ago and go on the "outskirts tour." We agreed to diet together and support each other. A friend assured me that by September I would not recognize myself. I really wanted to believe it. True, it is unlikely that I will be able to get out of bed and walk to the bathroom tomorrow, let alone get back on the bike.

“Yasya, if you don’t start moving your legs faster, you’ll just fall down,” Zhenya called over my shoulder.

She's easy to talk to! Another half an hour drive to the house. There is nothing to do, you have to pedal, otherwise you can safely stay overnight here - next to an abandoned warehouse.

- Think about how slim and beautiful you will be.

Zhenya is a master of motivation. Thinking about how Cyrus would choke on his hurtful words, I clenched my teeth and worked hard with my feet.

It was starting to get dark when high-rise buildings loomed ahead. Is today's torture going to end soon? Maybe being fat isn't so bad after all? But it's easy.

We drove along a country road, avoiding potholes. It was not so easy to do it in the twilight.

“Tomorrow we need to leave early, otherwise you can kill yourself in the dark,” Zhenya shouted to me, driving around another pit

A car was approaching behind us, illuminating the road with its headlights. We took to the right to let her through. The car was moving slowly, rolling over the pits. I lagged behind Zhenya a little, wondering if I should dismount.

- Yaska, be careful, there is another me ...

I didn't hear the end of my friend's sentence. The front wheel of the bike dove into the hole and I went head over heels over the handlebars. The world flashed before my eyes like a centrifuge, and the earth collapsed on me. My chin was in pain. A bicycle fell from above with an unthinkable load. How it hurts, mommy!

- Yaska! - as if Zhenya's cry was heard through the cotton wool.

I felt her hands. A friend tried to pick me up. His left hand exploded in pain. I screamed, preventing Zhenya from touching her. God, how my face hurts! I could taste blood in my mouth, my lip throbbed, my chin burned.

- You can stand up? Zhenya tried to get through to me.

I couldn't even orient myself, let alone stand up. The body didn't listen. I could only cry softly and cradle the exploding pain with every movement of my arm.

Zhenya jumped to her feet and darted from side to side in a panic. Suddenly I heard her cry:

- Misha, Kir, help us, please!

“Have you decided to talk to us? Misha's mocking voice was heard.

Yasya fell off her bike! I can't lift it alone! She looks like her arm is broken!

I heard no more words, only footsteps approaching.

- Which hand? - This is the voice of Cyril.

“Left,” Zhenya mumbled, sobbing.

- Stop whining. Now we will bring her home, and then, if necessary, we will help to take her to the hospital.

If it had not been so painful, I would have escaped from the hands of Cyrus. I don't need his help!

Yara, put your hand on my shoulder. I'll help you get up, - I heard Kirill's voice in my ear.

His arms wrapped around my waist. Somehow we got to our feet. Misha immediately jumped up, but he could help only with his presence, since I could not lean on anyone with my left hand.

“I’ll bring her home, and you and Zhenya run ahead and call Aunt Nadia,” Kir ordered.

Misha and Zhenya rushed towards the house, and we slowly hobbled after them. I silently cried in pain.

Kirill carefully supported my waist and mumbled something soothing, but I did not listen. At that moment, there was only pain in my arm and the taste of blood in my mouth.

It wasn't that far from home, but we walked for a very long time. I could barely move my legs. Cyrus practically dragged me on himself.

When we turned into the courtyard, my mother was already waiting for us at the entrance. Zhenya and Misha stood next to her, shifting nervously from foot to foot. I will definitely thank them later.