Steven
"What's up, gypsy? Wearing that hoodie again?" Ilija Nestorović's voice cut through the classroom the second I stepped inside.
I dropped my backpack next to my desk, slowly, never breaking eye contact with him. The muscles in my neck tightened on their own. With guys like them, it never stops—that constant flexing, that endless pissing contest over whose street it is and who owns the block.
Ilija wasn't just some random neighborhood delinquent—he was an institution of fear in our school. The type of guy who trips out thinking he owns the place. Built like the gym was his only home, he rocked his buzz cut with a strange, military-like seriousness. But his eyes were the worst part. Pale blue and full of contempt, they were constantly scanning you, unpredictable like undercover cops. You never knew if he was looking at you because you were in his way, or if he was just waiting for the perfect moment to put you in your place.
"Got a problem with it?" I asked, my voice coming out colder than I actually felt.
He stood up slowly, wearing that half-smile that wasn't looking for an answer, but for trouble. „I want you to take that shit off." He grabbed the edges of my red-and-white hoodie, yanking me toward him just enough to prove he could. To him, it was just a provocation. To me, it was a second skin. "Or do I have to strip it off you myself, huh?"
"Step up and try it, you pussy."
Those two words were the trigger. He stepped in, getting right in my face, so close I could see every pore, every tiny drop of sweat on his forehead. I hated when someone got in my face. More than anything, man... And he knew it all too well.
"Last time I'm telling you, man. Take it off." His voice was low now, almost calm—that specific tone that comes right before the shit hits the fan.
I shook my head. No fucking way. The next second, a hit. His fist caught me clean on the cheekbone, so hard my ears started ringing. I stumbled sideways, barely missing the edge of a desk, but I didn't even feel the pain. Just that insane pressure in my head and a rage that burns through everything in its path.
Maybe I fucked up... But you know what? Fuck him.
I swung back. Instinct was faster than thought. I hit him once, then hit him again, throwing my whole weight behind it. He might have been taller, he might have been stronger, but I had years of the terraces, rain, and cold concrete backing me up. He wasn't stripping this hoodie off me as long as I was still breathing and standing on my feet.
This wasn't just some piece of clothing from a boutique. This was a matter of who you are and whether you have the balls to stand by it.41Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGIbFIIvCek
Chairs started crashing to the floor, a deafening sound tearing through the room. Someone was yelling for us to stop, someone else was cheering, and I could hear phone cameras clicking alongside the muffled laughs of the kids who only ever watch a fight through a screen.
I yanked Ilija back. We crashed over a desk, my legs getting tangled in a chair. In a split second, he used his weight to get the upper hand on the floor. I threw my hands up over my face. His elbows came raining down, one after another, while I desperately tried to protect my head.
The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I still didn't feel the pain. Adrenaline hit so hard I didn't even realize how heavy his blows actually were. At that moment, it didn't matter who was a Delija and who was a Grobar. It was pure dignity. A question of who would stay down first, and who would stand up the winner.
"Enough! You two, stop it right now!"
The door slammed against the wall. Our physics teacher, Ms. Tadić, rushed in, pale-faced, her hands raised like she was trying to put out a fire that had already burned everything down. I felt her hands on my shoulders, shaking and surprisingly gentle as she tore us out of the clinch.
"Hey! Stop it! You're hurting each other!"
That day, I thought it was just another fight in a long line of them this year. I didn't know it would be the exact reason I'd be packing my bags and leaving this school for good.
• —— •
- Gypsy (Cigan / Ganci): A derogatory term used by rival fans to insult Crvena Zvezda Belgrade supporters. Over time, Crvena Zvezda fans embraced the name, turning the insult into a badge of pride and a part of their identity.
- Delija (plural: Delije): The official name for the hardcore Crvena Zvezda Belgrade ultras group. The word itself translates to "Heroes" or "Brave/Handsome Young Men" in old Serbian.
- Grobar (plural: Grobari): The official name for the hardcore Partizan Belgrade ultras group, Crvena Zvezda ultimate rivals. The word translates to "Gravediggers."
ns216.73.217.39da2
and then Add to home screen.