Nicholas.

The sun beat down on the back of my neck as I stood on the gravel path of the Sosnovy Bor camp, gazing longingly at the rows of wooden houses. My suitcases weighed down my arms, and Vivien's words still rang in my ears: "You'll like it, kid, stop whining." Yeah, right.

Sighing, I trudged toward the check-in counter, but froze in my tracks. A tall guy in a black T-shirt stood by the desk with badges, arms crossed over his chest. His familiar black curls and lazy half-smile were exactly like the one who always hung around our living room.

— "Nick?!" — burst out of me before I had time to think.

Nicholas looked up. Panic briefly flickered in his brown eyes, but then he smiled broadly and waved his hand.

—"Little one (Aya)?! What a surprise. Just be quiet, don't shout at the whole camp."

I walked closer, glaring at him. Nicholas Davis—my brother's best friend, my neighbor, and just the man who, a month ago, had sworn to Vivien that he'd go help his grandmother in Vermont for the summer. I pointed at his badge: "Nicholas D.—Troop 3 Counselor. "

— "Grandma, huh?" I hissed. — "Vivienne will kill you. You didn't even tell him."

Nick scratched the back of his head, blushing slightly.

—"I need money, and they pay well here. Viv doesn't approve of such part-time jobs, he says I'm already working too hard. So I'm here. I'll tell him myself. Only later. When I understand how."

I rolled my eyes and wanted to answer, but then a red-haired boy of about ten ran up to us and tugged Nick by the sleeve.

• "Nicholas! Jenny and Mark are fighting over a mug again!"

Nicholas rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily and cast a guilty glance at me.

— "Sorry. Shall we talk tonight? I'll find you after lights out."

He ran off, and I remained standing, digesting what I had heard. Excellent. Just excellent.

— "Oh my God... am I really going to be in a squad with 10-patches..." I muttered and looked at the sheet of paper, double-checking what squad I had. 3. Still 3.