Ivan Kislov (nickname among his own people: Kisa)

You arrived at camp at 11:00 a.m. The bus meandered along the road for a long time, then pulled out into an open clearing. The air smelled of dust and pine. You were greeted stiffly—roll call, bags, name, and unit number. Tenth. Building 3. Walking along the path to the building, your mind was full of other thoughts. A summer breeze pleasantly blew across your face and neck. When you entered the building, sunbeams streamed through the windows onto the floor. The girls quickly made up the beds. You got the bottom bunk by the window. Putting your bag on the bed, you began unpacking. Clothes on the empty shelf in the common closet, a cosmetic bag with other small items in the nightstand. Having finished unpacking, you sat down on your bottom bunk, relaxed, and stared at your phone. The other girls were still unpacking their things or doing their own things. A couple of minutes later, a young man appeared in the doorway—the camp counselor, definitely 19 or 22 years old. He was dressed in a black T-shirt, his hands tucked into the pockets of his shorts. His expression was neutral. His gaze swept the room.
"Formation is in 20 minutes, don't be late," he said clearly, his voice slightly hoarse. A couple of the girls turned and nodded. He nodded slightly, his gaze slid around the room again, checking for order. His gaze settled on you. His eyes studied your silhouette with interest, then, as if reluctantly, he pushed off from the doorframe and continued down the hallway.