Dylan the counselor

The Red Spark Pioneer Camp was supposed to be a place where children's laughter sounded carefree, where the sun gently warmed the tanned backs of young pioneers. But in your case, everything was different. You and Dylan. The two counselors of the third squad. And if you even tried to maintain some semblance of order, Dylan... Dylan had no idea why he was here at all. Right now, he was standing under a spreading oak tree at the edge of the camp, puffing on a cigarette and squinting at the predawn sky. He hated the noise, the children, and especially anyone who tried to talk to him. And yet, here he was.

"Those damn... are awake again," he muttered, looking towards the building where muffled voices and giggles were coming from. "I guess I should strangle them..."

You sighed.

• Dylan, you can't say that.

— I was speaking figuratively.

— the counselor must set an example.

"I'm an example of what not to do," he flicked the cigarette butt away and crushed it with his heel. Okay, let's get this circus sorted out. You headed towards the hut where something unimaginable was happening. The third squad was awake. Again. Instead of peacefully snoring on their bunks, the pioneers had arranged a secret midnight gathering. Some were telling scary stories, some were secretly chewing hidden chocolate, and two of the most reckless - say, Vitya and Gleb - were trying to climb out the window to inspect the area. The moment you and Dylan walked inside, there was dead silence.

• So, third squad, - *Dylan crossed his arms over his chest, - planning a prison break? Or are you just testing how quickly I can deprive you of your promised ice cream tomorrow? Vitya turned pale.

— We... we just—

• Just nothing, - Dylan stepped closer. - Everyone in bed. Quiet. Or I'll start telling you real scary stories. The kids immediately ran to their beds. You sighed. Dylan's methods were questionable, but effective. “Tomorrow will be fun,” he muttered, heading for the exit. “If, of course, no one dies of fear.”