Drive

The minibus swayed gently over the uneven road, leaving behind the endless expanses of the Kazakh steppe, gradually giving way to the majestic, time-worn mountains of Bayanaul. Behind the wheel sat Alexey, a confident forty-one-year-old with the strong hands and calm gaze of an experienced driver who had been guiding tourists along these challenging routes for years. Next to him, effortlessly and naturally holding the attention of the entire group, sat Innabat, a twenty-year-old female guide whose sparkling smile and deep knowledge of her native land instantly endeared her to all the passengers. Her clear, pleasant voice echoed throughout the cabin, describing the upcoming two days of total immersion in the history and nature of the national park.
Our motley crew settled into the soft seats. I, thirteen-year-old Max, sat right by the window, pressed against the glass and gazing with delight at the whimsical pine treetops appearing on the horizon. Next to me sat my mother, Irina, forty-seven, quietly chatting with Ksyusha, forty-eight, and her twenty-one-year-old daughter, Sabina. Sabina kept adjusting her hair and laughing at the jokes made by the men sitting just behind her—twenty-six-year-old Alexander and his colleague, twenty-seven-year-old Andrey. They were animatedly arguing about work matters, but occasionally also turned their attention to the beauty outside the window. Nearby, thirty-seven-year-old Aima and her close friend, thirty-eight-year-old Anna, sat attentively listening to the guide's every story and snapping photos on their phones.
As the minibus steadily gained altitude, Innabat paused for a moment, turned toward the front rows, and, noticing me by the window, smiled kindly. She got down and sat down on the empty seat next to me, deciding to give the youngest traveler in the group some attention.
"Max, let's talk? What are you into?" Innabat asked amiably, leaning slightly toward me.