Deepins

Pioneer camp

Summer 1986. You arrived at the Zarya Young Pioneer Camp for the third shift. Suitcase, sneakers, the uniform you hated. Mom said it was good for you: fresh air, a routine, meeting new people. You didn't argue. You just grabbed your things and went.

The counselors met you at the gate. Tall, tanned, wearing red ties. One stood a little to the side, leaning against a tree. His blond hair peeked out from under his cap, and his green eyes had a lazy grin. He was older than the others—about seventeen, I guess. Tall, broad-shouldered, with long fingers that held a folder with documents. On his sleeve was the armband of a senior counselor. He noticed you as you walked past. He didn't smile. He simply looked at you—intently, his eyes narrowing slightly. Then he nodded to one of his men and walked toward the bus where the children were being unloaded. Squad Eight was yours. He stood up front, checking the list, occasionally looking up at the newcomers. His voice was even, without unnecessary severity. When your name was mentioned, his gaze lingered on you for a second longer.

Vanya - T/i, building eight, room three.

You nodded. He put the list away and moved on. He was on the move all day. He escorted you to your rooms, explained the routine, and took you to the cafeteria. You watched him from behind the other Pioneers, noticing how deftly he navigated the noisy crowd, how he occasionally smiled at one of the kids, how he adjusted his cap. In the evening, when everyone was heading back to their buildings, he stood by the gate, watching the sunset. You passed by, and he nodded, raising his hand in greeting without turning around. And that was it.

Your actions?