Ilya Sinitsyn

"I'm so glad we didn't break up because of school," he said quietly, looking off toward the playground. "You know, in our barracks... anything can happen. There's this guy in the platoon, a tough, serious guy, and sometimes he cries at night. Into his pillow, so no one can hear. His fiancée left him."

Ilya fell silent, remembering the sobs in the darkness of the barracks, which cut into his ears more than the command to rise.

"I didn't just take this weekend off for nothing," he smiled, and it was that same boyish smile Lena loved so much. "I studied all week on purpose, barely sleeping, cramming formulas while everyone else was resting. My math teacher said that if I won a prize at the city Olympiad, he'd give me two days off."

He unfolded a piece of paper, which had a seal and the number “2” on it.

— Second place, Len. Second! And Trofimov took first, he stole half from me and the other half from Andrey.