Part One. A sixteenth birthday, my birthday! And no longer wanted to live! Rather did not want to live is still, like, as lizards vynyrnut from the old skin and leave it in the unknown, which beckons and calls. All this was the fault zauchka, botanist for which I have just one of hundreds. Once he became the first September in our class, and I died instantly as the explosion of grenades. Whereas for the first time I did not understand himself, his feelings and emotions. He flew as belokury angel in full view of everyone, smile not converge with his divinely beautiful person, it was smooth, obvolakivayuschey and appease.

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