Svetlana had always been proud of her son Igor. At sixteen he was a reserved but calm boy: he studied average, had few friends, but treated his mother with respect. In recent months she was surprised to notice that her son had a new hobby \u2014 the garden.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Every day after school Igor went out into the yard and began to dig the soil. At first the mother thought it was a temporary whim. But one day she asked:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 Son, what are you doing there?
\u2014 Oh\u2026 just want to grow flowers, \u2014 he mumbled without looking at her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Svetlana\u2019s heart warmed with joy. \u201cHere it is \u2014 real growing up,\u201d she thought. \u201cBetter to grow flowers than hang out on the street with questionable company.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She even bought seeds of petunias and marigolds, but Igor showed no interest in them. He continued day after day to dig the same garden bed, sometimes early in the morning and sometimes late in the evening.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Svetlana admired his diligence, although she worried that her son had abandoned his schoolwork.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One evening the neighbor was walking her dog \u2014 a large Doberman named Rex. The dog had always been calm, but that day he suddenly tensed, sharply jerked the leash, and ran full-speed toward their yard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The neighbor could barely keep up with him. Rex stopped at the freshly dug garden bed, began to bark furiously, scratch the ground with his paws, and suddenly started digging violently.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 Stop it! \u2014 Svetlana screamed, running out of the house. \u2014 My son is growing flowers here!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But the dog seemed crazed. Dirt flew in all directions, until suddenly something terrible appeared from beneath the loose soil\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Continuation in the first comment\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The edge of a polyethylene bag. The neighbor bent down, pulled it out of the ground and froze. Svetlana saw the contents \u2014 small bundles of white powder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She felt her legs weakening.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 Is this\u2026 what I think it is? \u2014 she forced out with difficulty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The neighbor turned pale, but nodded:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 Looks like illegal substances.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At that moment Igor appeared on the porch. His face was deathly gray, his eyes darting side to side.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 Mom, it\u2019s not what you think\u2026 \u2014 he began, but his voice was trembling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Svetlana rushed at him:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 What does this mean?! You were burying this in our yard?!!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Igor faltered, then quietly muttered:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 A guy from the group told me that I just needed to hide it. They would pay money\u2026 I didn\u2019t know what was inside!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The neighbor shook his head:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 This is an old scheme, boy. Kids like you are used in the dark. But the responsibility is still on you.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Svetlana had always been proud of her son Igor. At sixteen he was a reserved but calm boy: he studied average, had few friends, but treated his mother with respect. In recent months she was surprised to notice that her son had a new hobby \u2014 the garden. Every day after school Igor went out […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":1686,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1685","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/virli.site\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1685","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/virli.site\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/virli.site\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/virli.site\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/virli.site\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1685"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/virli.site\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1685\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1687,"href":"https:\/\/virli.site\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1685\/revisions\/1687"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/virli.site\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/1686"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/virli.site\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1685"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/virli.site\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1685"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/virli.site\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1685"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}