Page 60 of Pioneer Summer

“It’s like the song’s about you,” said Yurka, magnanimously complimenting Ksyusha. A disconcerted smile flashed across her lips.

It would’ve been hard to call their awkward shuffling “dancing.” The only thing Ksyusha allowed him to do was put his hands on her shoulders in comradely Pioneer fashion while they both tapped their feet in time to the music, holding each other at arm’s length.

“Why do you hate me so much?” Yurka asked her.

“I don’t hate you, but it’s your fault, anyway. You shouldn’t have jumped on Vishnevsky like that,” she mumbled angrily. “It’s your fault he didn’t come, you know.”

Yurka hadn’t known she cared whether or not Vishnevsky came to camp. “It isn’t, actually. He spent the whole session last year bragging about how his dad got him a vacation voucher to Bulgaria for an entire summer this year,” replied Yurka dryly.

It was like a dam burst. Ksyusha flooded him with questions. Apparently she cared an awful lot. But Yurka wasn’t listening. He was looking out the corner of his eye at Volodya, who was sitting at the far edge of the dance floor, leaning back in a chair, arms folded on his chest, smiling and watching the two dancers. He also caught other campers looking at him enviously. Vanka and Mikha all but applauded when they caught his gaze.

The song ended, but Ksyusha was in no hurry to either leave or kiss him.

“Come on, let’s go,” Yurka urged her. “What are you waiting for? Two times!”

“You don’t happen to have Vishnevsky’s address, do you?” Ksyusha asked, blushing.

“No. Kisses!”

Ksyusha rolled her eyes, sighed, and moved closer. Yurka gallantly turned his side toward her and offered her his cheek, so she could reach it if she stood on her tiptoes. She held her breath and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Yurka squinted his eyes shut in satisfaction as he felt that first soft little touch on his cheek, then a pause, and then a second one, which was even nicer. He liked it very much.

When he opened his eyes, all he saw of Ksyusha was her back as she rushed away to rejoin her friends.

Vanka and Mikha, flabbergasted, were waving their arms like crazy, beckoning him over. He obeyed.

“How?!” exclaimed Vanka. “How did you do that?!”

“Aw, man, why are you so lucky?” whined Mikha, who was green with envy.

“What’s the big deal, guys?” asked Yurka, faking surprise.

“That’s Ksyusha! She’s as mean as a dragon! But don’t tell her I said that, okay?” Mikha said, catching himself. “Me she snaps with a towel, but you ... She kissed you!” he pointed out, as though Yurka didn’t already know.

“Yeah,” agreed Vanka. “It’s the kind of thing we can only dream of ...”

“Oh, come on, like she’s so super-gorgeous,” said Yurka dismissively. “We’ve seen better.”

“That’s right! That’s the way to be,” said Mikha, energetically demonstrating his indifference. But immediately he added again, in a frightened whisper, “Just don’t tell her I said that, okay?”

“But still—how? It’s some kind of trick, right?” persisted Vanka, stumped.

Yurka shook his head. “Nope. I earned it,” he said with a proud jut of his chin, then turned and hustled back to Volodya.

But Volodya wasn’t on his chair anymore. Yurka looked around, lost.

“Maybe he went over to the outdoor stage to make up with Ira? He’d hardly have gone back to his cabin without telling me.” Sure that Volodya was here somewhere, it was just a question of finding him, Yurka went to the far corner of the dance floor and climbed his apple tree—the same one he’d been hanging the string of lights on at the beginning of the session. Carefully, though, this time. He pulled himself up and stood with his feet on either side of the forked trunk. He felt like a pirate in a crow’s nest as he started examining the area.

The crowd below started moving. Some boys were asking girls to dance, and Yurka was a little envious of them—what an adrenaline rush! Other campers were having fun without any partner at all, while a few, like Mitka, were standing hesitantly in place, lonely and nervous.

The announcer who read Camp Barn Swallow’sPioneer Dawnwas standing under a tree decorated with a string of red blinking lights and watching Ulyanka. He kept turning red as a piglet and then, as the string of lights blinked out, returning to being as white as chalk.

“And now we’ll take a little break ...” The camp director’s voice interrupted both Yurka’s observation of Mitka and the dance music. The Pioneershollered in protest. “... so Olga Leonidovna can announce the results of our Summer Lightning campaign! And then we’ll have our ladies’ choice dance!”

Olga Leonidovna stepped out onto the stage for precisely one minute and without preamble announced loudly into the microphone that ultimately the winner of the Summer Lightning campaign of session two of the Pioneer Hero Zina Portnova Barn Swallow Pioneer Camp for 1986 was ... friendship!

A smattering of tepid applause followed. But as soon as the first notes of “Ferryman,” the smash hit of the summer, started playing, a whisper of excitement passed through the boys, and all the girls started looking around at once. They were urgently trying to find someone.

“The leader of Troop Five,” guessed Yurka. And following the direction in which most of the glances were pointed, he did indeed locate Volodya.

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