Page 25 of Pioneer Summer

“Well, Yur, I’d rather my troop pee their beds if it means that nobody chokes on toothpaste. And especially that nobody’s eyes get burned!”

Yurka scratched the back of his head. “But what’ll we tell them? What’s so scary about toothpaste?”

“We’ve got buckets of time until junior lights-out. We’ll think of something.”

“Pcholkin!” called Volodya in a stage whisper as he leaned down over the boy’s bed. “Sit up, you!”

“Why? What now?” the boy grumbled, but sat up obediently.

Volodya felt around under the boy’s pillow and pulled out a tube of toothpaste. “This is why.” He stood up and surveyed the rows of beds. “Who else has something hidden under their pillow? Sash! You?”

“Hey, why me?” came a squeak from the left-hand row by the wall.

“Because you’re always so well-behaved.”

Yurka watched all this from his comfortable perch on an empty bed by the window.

“Now, boys,” Volodya intoned sententiously, “don’t even think of toothpasting anyone! It could be dangerous. Do you understand?”

The response was a couple of listless “Yeahs” and “Sures.”

Volodya sighed heavily. Then he took a deep breath and was about to say something else, but suddenly there was a loud shriek from the girls’ room, followed by the sounds of trampling feet and a slamming door. And muffled sobs.

“I’ll be right back,” said Volodya. He jumped up and ran out of the room, flinging “Yur, look after them!” over his shoulder as he left.

“Oh, Yuuuuwaaaa!” Olezhka sang slyly as soon as the door shut.

“Hm?”

“You pwomised us a scawy stowy!” “Yeah, you promised, Yura!” “Tell us another scary story!”

Yurka scoffed and crossed his arms. “Well, now ... I don’t know ...” he said slowly. “Yesterday, Volodya said I couldn’t tell you scary stories anymore,he said you’re still too little. And you are still little! You all couldn’t even get your toothpasting stunt figured out ...”

“But how wasIsupposed to know he was going to look under my pillow?!” Pcholkin protested.

“Maybesome peopleshouldn’t have blabbed about it loud enough for the whole theater to hear!” Yurka replied, adopting the same defensive tone.

“That wasn’t me! That was Sashka!” insisted Pcholkin, scowling.

“I’ve still gotmytoothpaste, though!” The chubby boy waved the little tube over his head triumphantly.

“Put that away, you!” Yurka shushed him, then continued ominously: “You can’t even imagine the kind of horrible things that happen in the Barn Swallow to jokesters who go out toothpasting! And these aren’t just stories: I saw them myself ...”

The room went silent. The only sound was the rustle of Sasha putting the toothpaste back under his pillow.

“So what exactly happens to them, Yuw?” Olezhka stuck his head out from under his blanket and looked at Yura, intrigued.

In a show of bravado, Pcholkin crossed his arms on his chest and asked, “What have you seen?”

Knowing that the boys could see his silhouette backlit against the window, Yurka narrowed his eyes and turned his head to survey the room. “Are you sure you want to know?”

The silence in the cabin held for a good thirty seconds. Finally there was one hesitant “Yes,” followed by a few others.

“Okay,” Yurka acquiesced grudgingly. “Then I’ll share another genuinely scary secret with you ... The ghost of the countess I told you about yesterday isn’t the only one that wanders around Camp Barn Swallow at night. The truth is that—I read this somewhere—this area has an elevated rate of ... wait, what’s the word again? ... oh, yeah: of anomalous activity! All kinds of supernatural forces and unclean spirits are drawn to this place, especially at night.”

In a nearby bed, someone’s teeth were chattering.

“What? Is this scary?” asked Yurka.

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