Page 13 of Pioneer Summer

Yurka was finally able to get into the game while playing durak; no surprise, given what was at stake. But he had rotten luck. He only got two trumps, and they were both low: a two and a six.

Mikha was the first to get rid of all his cards; he eyeballed his companions, flexing his hands in anticipation and smiling an evil little smile. Yurka could tell what he was thinking just looking at him:I’m gonna give you such a takeoff-and-landing, you’ll black out.

Yurka played his last trump and cringed inwardly: he only had one card left, a ten of spades. He was screwed. Vanka bobbed up and down with glee and flung down the queen of trumps, shouting victoriously, “Wham! Take that!” Yurka scoffed in disgust. He’d been destroyed. He sighed and turned to Mikha.

Whack! Mikha smacked him hard in the forehead with the palm of his hand: takeoff. Yurka’s head flew back from the force of it. Then, before hecould come to his senses, thwack! Mikha belted him on the back of the head: landing. Yurka’s head jerked forward, so far his nose almost touched his chest. First he saw stars; then everything really did sort of go dim.

“I’ll get you for that!” he whispered, blinking and trying to focus his eyes again. “One more game? Loser does a dare?”

“But what’s the dare?”

“When you lose, I’ll tell you!”

“Just nothing indecent! And nothing to do with leaders! I’m not going to run around behind Irina with scissors asking to cut her hair again.”

“Fine.”

Yurka focused all his will. He knew how to win without any trumps at all by thinking ahead, remembering his opponents’ cards, and counting turns. But this time Yurka got lucky: a three, a seven, and an ace. Oh, he’d show them!

And show them he did. Not only was he the first one to get rid of all his cards, he also counted turns and saw that Mikha, Mr. Takeoff-and-Landing himself, would be the one to lose. Which is exactly what happened. Mikha tossed his cards on the towel and edged warily closer to Yurka. “Well?”

“Go to the middle of the beach, kneel, and bow all the way to the ground four times while you shout—” But here Yurka leaned over to Mikha’s ear and whispered the words so Vanka wouldn’t hear.

“Aw, come on! Four times? Why?” scowled Mikha.

Vanka snorted, amused, and replied before Yurka could: “Because you had four cards left. If you don’t like it, we can always count points instead, like in twenty-one ...”

“Okay, okay,” Mikha answered. Downcast, he trudged off to perform his task.

But he didn’t go to the middle of the beach, like he’d been commanded to. He only took a few steps, then he stopped right in front of the Pukes. He gave Yurka a questioning look, but Yurka, baffled, was caught stock-still, and it took a few seconds for him to unfreeze and wave his arms frantically: “No, not here, keep going.” But it was too late. Vanka watched Mikha fall slowly to his knees and gasped: “Oh, here it comes!” while Yurka stifled a giggle.

Mikha knelt, then repeatedly bowed down and prostrated himself, beating his head on the sand as though trying to break through while yelling loud enough for the whole beach to hear: “Let me into your mine shaft!”

“Hey, Pronin! What are you, crazy?” Ulyana shrieked.

“Get out of here!” scoffed Polina, waving him away.

“Let me into your mine shaft!”

“Misha, that’s enough! You got sand all over my dress!” Ksyusha said indignantly.

“Let me into your mine shaft! Let me into your miiiine shaaaaft!”

Yurka was lying on the ground, gasping with laughter. Vanka was clutching his belly with one hand and pounding his towel with the other. The Pukes were pelting Mikha with whatever dresses, skirts, and blouses came to hand and shrieking so loudly that even the whole of Troop Five went quiet. Masha smiled, observing the fracas from her shady spot. Even Lena giggled. But Volodya turned around, annoyed and scowling, to snap harshly at them: “Girls! Quiet down!”

The “girls” only quieted down after a red-faced Mikha fled the beach in nothing but his swim briefs.

“But why a mine shaft?” asked Vanka, elbowing Yurka.

Yurka smiled and shrugged. “What else is underground? It’s the first thing that came to mind.”

Soon it grew quiet again—or what passed for quiet at a river beach at a Pioneer camp. Yurka, languishing from the heat, decided to go take a dip. As he got up from his towel, he overheard: “Volodechka’s gotten really bad ...” He turned to look at the girls and saw a frowning Ksyusha talking. “Girls like us are sitting over here in bathing suits, but he pays zero attention, even when that fool Pronin starts carrying on at us.” She clicked her tongue in disappointment. “You try your hardest, but all he’s got on his mind is kids.”

“He just really likes them. Which is a rare quality, by the way.” Polina turned over onto her back. “It’s cute. He’ll make a good dad.”

Yurka heard this as he was taking off his shirt and shorts. “Wow, what a model future mother,” he scoffed. Fortunately for him, the girls didn’t hear anything. They continued their conversation.

“Maybe something happened and now he’s worried?” Ulyana said, trying to defend Volodya.

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