Page 58 of Pioneer Summer

Yurka’s imagination painted a vivid picture of Volodya going to have a tryst with Ira Petrovna late at night when everyone else was asleep. In the dark, in the quiet, his mask of calm would fall away and then it would be a completely different Volodya, one who was sincere, ardent, and flustered, whispering to Ira about his feelings. Maybe he’d even kiss her, ask her to hold him ...

Yurka scoffed in disgust. He clenched his fists in a sudden fit of anger that fell on him out of nowhere. He was barely able to restrain himself from hitting the wall of the movie theater, instead using a fist just to scratch his nose.

Still, on the other hand, what did they have to hide? Yurka knew from camp gossip that neither Ira nor Lena were married. So was it because of Zhenya? But what would be keeping Ira from just breaking up with Zhenya, then? The answer was obvious: Volodya himself was keeping them together. He’d just said that his beloved would be better of with another person.

But what didn’t make sense was why it was a big deal. She was a troop leader, he was a troop leader ... As long as they didn’t start parading themselves around in front of everybody’s faces, nobody would even think to judge them for it. Volodya couldn’t just be afraid of gossip, could he? Even if he were, he, of all people, would know Yurka could keep a secret. Volodya had shared the kind of secrets that could mean expulsion from the Komsomol; even just the thing about wanting to go to America—! An affair with a troop leader was nowhere near as bad as that. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be worse than what Volodya had already entrusted to Yurka.

That meant that it couldn’t be a troop leader, then. So who was it? One of the girl Pioneers? That would be really bad. Being kicked out of the Komsomol was punishment enough for a lot of things, but not for an affair with a Pioneer. Volodya might well ruin his own reputation—and, worse, hers—for decades to come. People didn’t joke about that kind of thing; people didn’t betray that kind of secret, not even under torture, especially if their beloved’s happiness, which was precisely what Volodya cared about, would be put at risk ... If Yurka were him, Yurka would’ve kept quiet, too. He was keeping quiet about himself.

But still—who was she? If it really was one of the girl Pioneers, then which one?

As he clamped the cigarette in his teeth, the smoke blew back into his right eye, making him squint. He tucked the pack into the crack, replacedthe chunk of mortar, and pushed his way back out of the bushes. His gaze chanced to fall on a window through which he could clearly see the entire stage and audience. What he saw happening there made his eye, already teary from the smoke, start twitching spasmodically.

It was like Yurka was watching a silent movie. The cast members filed out of the movie theater, leaving those same two people inside: Masha and Volodya. She still hadn’t calmed down yet. She was hunched in a seat in the first row of the audience, face buried in her hands, shaking. Once the door closed behind the last actor, Volodya sat down beside her. He whispered something in her ear. Yurka expected him to then get up and leave, but the troop leader kept sitting beside her. He kept talking to her and rubbed her back and stroked her hair. It looked ... romantic. Too romantic. It actually looked intimate, as though they were ... together.

What if they reallyaretogether?thought Yurka, and the strange stinging sensation shot through him more painfully than ever. The pain surged from a tiny speck in the pit of his stomach and flooded his belly and chest. It swelled, burning and pulsing, like a boil. Physically unable to keep looking at them, Yurka angrily stamped out his cigarette and fled back to his troop cabin.

He walked into the boys’ room, collapsed on his bed, stared at the ceiling, and tried to make himself calm down. Then he remembered something that brought him relief: these feelings would soon pass. And he felt better. He was an egotist, after all, which meant that his feelings weren’t actually real. It was just a delusion. Yurka probably just missed Anechka so much this session that he’d unknowingly transferred all his attention to the only person who was close to him, who he enjoyed being with: Volodya. Who would’ve thought? And that’s how the troop leader became the object of Yurka’s strong but purely friendly affections. That was it. Just Volodya instead of Anya. Pretty awkward.

The Troop One boys all came bursting into the boys’ room and raised a racket as they retold a story about Alyosha Matveyev almost pulling down the basketball hoop. As he laughed along with the others, Yurka could feel his anger and hurt feelings draining away by the minute as his mood began returning to normal. It wasn’t what you’d call a good mood yet, since traces of despair were still echoing inside him, but Yurka had an idea of whatwould raise it to that level. He went over to the girls’ room right after dinner to tell Ksyusha that today he’d finally be bringing Volodya to the dance.

The girls’ room was noisy with arguing and shouting. All the girls in the room, even Masha, were squeezed into the corners or flattened against the walls, leaving the space in the middle for the Pukes, who were on the verge of a fistfight.

“Why did you throw my hairspray away?!” shrieked the enraged Ksyusha.

“There wasn’t any left!” Ulyana shouted in her own defense, white as a sheet. Her friend’s reaction had obviously surprised her.

“Yes there was! There was a little left at the very bottom, it would’ve been just enough for my bangs!” Ksyusha’s bangs, which were sticking straight out in front of her, were trembling as much as her chin. “You go get it back out of the trash!”

“Girls, I looked in our trash. It’s not there,” Polina interjected, trying to calm her friends down. “Ul, maybe the dumpster hasn’t been emptied yet? Why don’t you look there?”

“Why don’t you go digging around in the dumpster!” said Ulyana, outraged. She was pale not from fear, as Yurka had thought at first, but from anger.

Yurka’s mood brightened instantly when he realized how viciously the Pukes were fighting.

Polya tried to calm them down again. “Come on, girls, don’t fight, okay? I asked my mom and she’s bringing hairspray, two cans of it! She’s definitely bringing it!”

“And when is that?” Ksyusha was almost crying. “Camp Barn Swallow Day isn’t until Friday! What am I supposed to do until then?”

“When I tease my bangs, they stay up just fine without any spray at all!” Polya the peacemaker assured them.

“Oh, Ksyuuushaaa!” sang Yurka, poking his head in the doorway. “I’ve got news for you. There’s good news and bad news. What do you want first?”

“What is it?!” all three Pukes asked in unison. The rest of Yurka’s girl troopmates stared at him, eyes narrowed inquisitively.

“Fine, I’ll start with the good news. Guess who’s coming to the dance tonight?”

“What?!” Ksyusha actually fell to a seat on her bed. Her shaggy bangs fell in a clump onto her face. Apparently this good news was bad news to her. “Oh comeon! Who does this, Konev? Why today? Why not yesterday, or on Camp Barn Swallow Day, or literally any other day when I have hairspray?!”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Yurka said magnanimously. “But you do owe me something instead of thanks, remember? And that’s the bad news.”

“What kind of personareyou, Konev?!” she cried again. “I remember already! I remember!”

“And it has to be twice, not just once! You remember, right?” Yurka was unable to restrain himself any longer and broke into a broad, malicious grin.

All the girls except the Pukes turned their heads to stare first at Yurka, then at Ksyusha. Brazen, she didn’t even turn red. But Yurka did. Not from embarrassment, though. From barely suppressed laughter. Her anguish was hilarious to watch.

“I said yes, didn’t I?! Oh, Ulya! Why, oh, why did you throw away my hairspray?!”

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