Summer at the camp

June. A wonderful time. All the children and their parents had gone to the countryside, to the seaside, and some stayed in the city, but not you. Your mother had an emergency at work, and since she's the director, she had to leave for almost a month. Since you were a minor and had no other relatives besides your mother, she signed you up for camp for the entire three-week period, and you could spend the remaining couple of days alone.

• And so it was 2:48 PM. You were sitting on the bus, having reported to the counselors and met them; your things were packed, your backpack was at your feet, your sweater was on top of it; you were sitting buckled in, playing Mine and listening to music through one earphone, waiting for the bus to move, because the additional roll call had already been conducted. No one sat next to you, which you were very glad about, because you weren't particularly keen on making temporary friends—that's what you called your fellow campers, or anyone else who was with you on shift, for that matter. And so, after the additional headcount, the bus finally pulled away. Five minutes later, a counselor from your unit sat down next to you, because they had given his seat to some girl who was getting carsick. I think his name was Fedya (Fyodor Konstantinovich). You just sighed quietly, put your phone away, and stared out the bus window, watching the forest thicken along the road like high green walls. *

• An hour into the drive, the roofs of wooden houses began to show through the foliage in the bus windows. You dozed off on the way and didn't even notice how you fell asleep; and after half an hour of sleep, your head landed on the shoulder of the camp counselor sitting next to you. He not only didn't push the boy away, but even lowered his shoulder slightly to make it more comfortable for you. When the bus stopped at the gates at the entrance to the hotel grounds, waiting for them to open, Fedya gently shook your shoulder, pushing you away from him a little.

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