Page 46 of Pioneer Summer

“So what’s with the interrogation about the conservatory, then?” scowled Yurka.

“Well, first of all, it wasn’t an interrogation, it was one question. And secondly, it was just—just by the way.”

“Oh. Just by the way. Okay, then.” Yurka decided to play by Volodya’s rules. “So why are you looking for something else if you’ve already decided to keep the Moonlight Sonata?”

“I didn’t decide. I postponed the decision. And right now is the perfect time to look for a new song.”

“No way Masha can learn something new in time,” scoffed Yurka, unable to conceal his gloating.

“She’ll have to, she’s got no choice,” Volodya said, waving aside Yurka’s comment.

“In that case, maybe we should go to the library? It’s quicker to find it by looking at the sheet music than by listening.”

“What library? No time, Yura! We have very little time left. And if we do it this way, it’ll be pleasant as well as productive. But if you’d just stop being mad and help me pick, the ‘productive’ would be even more pleasant. Help me out here! I don’t know the first thing about music, you know. Without you, I’m completely adrift!”

“That’s obvious. Who, given all the symphonies to choose from, picks the Moonlight Sonata?” But Yurka relented. “Oh, fine. If you’re really completely adrift, then fine.”

“I am, completely,” said Volodya.

They settled in behind the green wall of branches hanging all the way down to the ground. They got out Volodya’s notebook and pencil, to finish altering the script for Olezhka, but they kept getting distracted.

“‘Air’ from Orchestral Suite No. 3,” proclaimed Yurka, without waiting for the radio announcer. Yurka recognized all the melodies from the first few notes. “Bach.”

“No, it doesn’t fit the show,” Volodya mumbled listlessly. None of the pieces they had heard yet were a fit.

“And it won’t work anyway unless you happen to have a symphony orchestra lying around somewhere,” noted Yurka just as listlessly.

After “Air” from Orchestral Suite No. 3 ended, Yurka spoke up again. “Pachelbel’s Canon. It sounds stupendous on the piano, by the way. But we can’t use it, either. It’s too happy.”

“Really?” said Volodya, perking up. “Wish I could hear it ... Would you maybe play it for me?” Yurka shot him a baleful look and Volodya quickly assured him, “Joking! Joking! Although ... I would be interested in watching Mr. Yurka Konev in a suit, hair combed, back straight, sitting at a piano and playing diligently.” Volodya chortled.

“So this is it, huh? And now you’re never going to stop making fun of me?”

“Nope.” Volodya smiled, but saw that Yurka was starting to brood again, so he went back to rewriting the text. “Okay, so we need a synonym of ‘store.’ They’re storing the weapon in a hole, in a hollow log.”

“‘Stick it in the hole’? Hey, that works!”

Volodya laughed. “We’d better go with something like ‘hide.’”

Two sentences and thirty minutes later, Yurka took the pencil from Volodya and sat down on the grass. He chewed on the pencil, lost in thought about yet another synonym. Volodya lay down wearily on his back next to Yurka, then closed his eyes and folded his hands behind his head, yawning. “I’m so tired, it’s bonkers.” Then he stretched so luxuriously that Yurka was infected with tiredness, too, his eyelids growing heavy, his body relaxing ... A little more and he’d fall asleep himself ...

But he resisted. He shook his head and lifted his eyebrows high to open his eyes. “So I wore myself out yesterday running around the woods, and then I didn’t get enough sleep, but what made you so tired?”

“Oh, right, you probably think the troop leaders get to relax at camp just like the children, is that it? And that they don’t get tired?”

“Well ... okay, maybe not just like the children—obviously troop leaders aren’t children—but I don’t believe for a second that you all don’t relax just as much as they do. Because you do nothing but give commands and order people around, then you lie around under a willow, kicking back while other people do all the work.” Yurka smiled. “What, am I wrong?”

“You of all people know how exhausting children are! My nerves are all shot to hell because of them. And so if we troop leaders are going to get enough sleep and maintain our energy, we need extra time, sleep, and food. Especially food!” Volodya raised his index finger. “And this applies to all troop leaders, by the way, whether they’re experienced or not. So whenever you see a troop leader, even the most seasoned one ever, know that he’s hungry. And sleepy.”

“I’ve never seen you suffer from a lack of energy.”

“That’s because I’m usually angry, and I’m energetic when I’m angry.”

Yurka thought this conversation was hilarious. He laughed and said, “So go ahead and sleep, you angry old troop leader. Now you’ve got the chance.”

“No, we haven’t done our daily quota yet ...”

“I’ll do it. Sleep.”

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