“Enjoyed it?” the man asks without a smile, nodding behind me. “Business-class passengers leave first. Let’s not keep the whole cabin waiting.”
“Don’t you remember me?” I blurt out at last, finally daring to look him in the eye.
“Of course,”—brown eyes. “I’m Dina, I’m Ildar’s friend, your brother. You’re Kamil, right? He said you’d also be at the birthday party.”
The man squints and studies me with a new, even more intent and careful look. Of course he doesn’t remember me. At the time when he could have seen me, I was about twelve.
But I remember him perfectly.
Yusupov Kamil was the terror of our courtyard. Besides the huge number of criminal cases brought against him, he was also accused of rape. The story of Kamil, from Bulat’s “Two.”