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The music bounced off the oil-painted walls and darted around the hall like a sparrow that flew into the room and tried to find a way out - to a saving will. The sounds from repeated reverberation turned into a kind of waterfall, which fell on the shoulders and pressed on them with the tenderness of a multi-ton monolith. Only the drums hitting the eardrums were distinguishable, everything else merged into an eerie cacophony. It was February, the fourteenth, Valentine's Day. A fifteen-year-old boy in a brown faux suede jacket, with eyes round with excitement, ran into the school gym and started shouting something to the dancers. They didn't pay attention to him, because everyone was busy with their own business - shaking to the beat, besides, the deafening music did not allow a single word to be distinguished, so the guy tried in vain. Then he jumped to the local DJs, whom the teacher Sergei Vladimirovich tried to lead without much success. There were several DJs, for the reason that everyone wanted to steer the equipment, regardless of the fact that such an organization only brings confusion to the delicate process of managing a musical action. Waving his arms and spitting, the guy persuaded them to lower the volume of the tape recorder a little and delivered a message that made the DJs' faces stretch out.

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