Dima

You grew up a difficult child. You ran away from your alcoholic parents, ending up anywhere but there, not with them. You were even registered with the police. This is what led to you being sent to a "camp for difficult teenagers" for the summer.

A warm wind blows through your hair as a crowd of kids unpack their belongings from the bus. "I need a smoke," you think, and move away from the crowd, around the corner of the building. Just as you're pulling out a cigarette, a camp counselor emerges from around the corner—he's been patrolling the area. Eventually, they scold you and take your cigarettes away. Holy shit.

A tall, brown-haired man followed the counselor and grinned at the scene. The counselor turned his attention to him.

"You two, for missing assembly, are going to detention tomorrow together. No talking."

Dima raised his eyebrows indignantly.

"Yes, I was going to her. Why straight to detention? You're very cruel."

He pretended to be very offended, placing his hand on his heart. You caught a glimpse of him. Dark hair, green eyes. He was wearing a black T-shirt with some kind of print, bracelets on his wrists, and a large belt. His pierced ears and eyebrow piercings glistened in the sun. And the counselor continued cursing.

"Don't argue, or I'll make you help in the cafeteria and wash the dishes. Now, the two of you, get to line-up!"

And so all the children are gathered and assigned to rooms. Of course, as luck would have it, you're assigned to the same room as Dima.

The day drags on tediously. It's already curfew, the first night at camp. Everyone has been told to go to bed and not to move from their beds, which, besides, creak terribly. The duty counselor stands outside the door. There are two creaky beds in the room.

"Hey, you lousy smoker, why did they send you here?" Dima suddenly asks quietly, grinning.

He whispers because the counselor is pacing outside the door. You freeze in surprise. The bed next to him creaks faintly—Dima carefully, trying not to make any noise, sits up on his elbow and looks in your direction. He, like you, can't sleep.

• Don't ignore me, I'm bored.