Grigory

It had become completely boring at home. Mom took a vacation and went to the dacha, but she didn't take me, saying it was too early. Then grandma came to visit us from the village, and dad immediately moved to mom's dacha. So, I was left alone in the house. All my friends disappeared from the yard—some went to the sea with their parents, others were taken to summer camps. Only I wandered sadly around the empty yard, where even the birds and dogs had hidden in their homes.

 — "Grisha, come home!" — that was grandma coming out onto the balcony and shouting across the whole yard, as if she were back in her village.

 — "Well, what now?" — I grumbled under my breath as I went up to the apartment. — "I just had breakfast, lunch

is still far away."

 — "Grisha, dear, mom called. Her friend is going to visit her, she can take you with her. Will you go?"

My joy knew no bounds. All day I didn't argue with anyone and even went to bed without a fuss, so I could get up early tomorrow and hit the road sooner. But grandma got up even earlier. When I woke up, the aroma of hot pies and something else delicious was already floating through the apartment. Grandma chased me out of the kitchen so I wouldn't burn myself on the stove and sent me to pack for the trip.

While I was sorting through my toys and deciding what to take with me, a sharp ring of the doorbell sounded in the hallway. I managed to reach the door before anyone else and was the first to click the lock open.

 — "Ba-a! It's Zhenya!" — I shouted so it could be heard in the kitchen.

Aunt Zhenya, or as I simply called her—Zhenya, was mom's friend from work. They worked in the same room, and often when I called mom, Zhenya would answer the phone, so we knew each other well.

 — "Invite the guests to the room," — grandma called out, — "I'll be right there, my hands are covered in flour."

We went into the big room. While the guest looked around, I gazed at her admiringly.

 — "What a beautiful dress you have!"

 — "Really! Do you like it?" — Zhenya spun on her heel once more, her skirt flying high. Personally, I didn't care what dress she wore, but I knew adults liked such compliments, and I really liked Zhenya.

 — "But it's not a dress, it's called a sundress. It's really nice, isn't it?!" — and she spun around again.

 — "Yes, it's nice! But why are your legs brown and your butt white?"

 — "How do you know?" — Zhenya bent down, looking intently into my eyes.

 — "Well, when you were spinning, it was visible. Did you get a tan?"

Zhenya laughed and hugged me. I resisted and started pushing away from her soft chest.

 — "Good day," — grandma stood in the doorway, looking at us disapprovingly, — "come to the kitchen, I'll pack the pies in a bag now and you can go."

Zhenya became embarrassed and busied herself with her bag.

Unfortunately, we couldn't get ready quickly. I peeked into the kitchen several times, but grandma and Aunt Zhenya were still sitting and talking.

 — "Don't worry, dear," — grandma said, pouring more tea, — "Grisha is a calm boy, just keep him occupied with something on the road and everything will be fine. Have another pie, I'll brew you some tea with herbs. My herbs are good, strong, they cleanse the body in no time, drive out any ailment. And you, girl, still have children to bear, you'll need your health."

When my patience ran out for the second time, grandma finished giving her advice and let us go. Quickly, before she remembered anything else, we grabbed the bags and rushed out onto the staircase. But even in the yard, grandma's voice caught up with us: "Evgenia, don't be afraid. Grisha knows the way, if anything, just ask him!" Trying to leave the yard as fast as possible, I pulled Zhenya's hand harder and harder.

When we crossed the square and reached the road, Zhenya pleaded:

 — "Not so fast, Grisha! Are we late for the bus?"

 — "Yeah."

 — "Well, let's walk, but not so fast."

I silently continued to drag Zhenya along. It just seemed to me that grandma was about to catch up with us and start loading us with useful advice again, and in the end we'd miss the train.

 — "Well, here we are," — Zhenya said tiredly and dropped the bags on the bench at the bus stop.

 — "Phew, it's so hot," — she breathed in and started fanning herself with a handkerchief. — "Why did we have to hurry so much? I'm all sweaty, and the bus won't be here for a long time." — She declared, looking around.

 — "Grisha, watch the things, I'll run for a minute," — Zhenya asked me, took her wallet from her bag, and headed across the street. There, in the shade of the houses, a bright barrel of kvass gleamed yellow.

The aunt quickly tapped her heels to the middle of the road, paused for a second on the lane divider to let a car pass, and ran further. The scorching summer sun pierced her sundress completely, and for a moment it seemed to me as if Zhenya had nothing on at all, so clearly visible was her slender figure with long, strong legs.

 — "What are you staring at, you goat?" — a venomous voice hissed above my head.

 — "Me? Nowhere, I just want some kvass too," — answered another voice.

I looked back. Behind me stood a man in a cap with the inscription "River Fleet" and a woman with a woven bag.

 — "You'll manage, you've already had beer."

 — "And now I want kvass."

 — "Turn your eyes away from the girl, if you look again—you'll remember it for a long time!"

I felt disgusted listening to them further. Quietly calling the woman "Baba Yaga," I took my pistol from the bag and started walking in circles—guarding our things. At the same time, I kept glancing at the road to see if the bus was coming, so I could warn my aunt in time. But Zhenya wasn't late.

 — "That's much better," — she said, smiling. — "It's just that I'm soaked through."

Zhenya took out the familiar handkerchief, wiped her forehead, neck, then, pulling the top of her sundress, slipped her hand inside. The man in the cap gasped stifledly; when I looked back, he was rubbing his bruised leg, and "Baba Yaga" stood with an angry face.

Our bus arrived. Riding through the city was boring; I knew the route to the station by heart and could have driven the car myself instead of the driver. As soon as we entered the station square and stopped, all the passengers rushed to the doors as if the bus were on fire. Zhenya held me close fearfully and didn't let go until the bus emptied. Outside, dividing the things equally—me with the backpack, and Zhenya with everything else—we walked toward the station building. But once inside the station, Zhenya became confused and helplessly dropped the bags. She needed to get in line at the ticket counter, push through to the train schedule to find out the departure time, and at the same time, try not to lose me or the things. She looked around anxiously for a solution, while people rushed past indifferently, almost knocking us off our feet.

 — "Trouble, sis?" — two military men stopped near us, — "Can we help?"

Zhenya took out her handkerchief, this time to wipe her running mascara, and briefly outlined the situation.

 — "And that's all?" — smiled the older of the military men.

 — "Then listen to my command! Semyon, you find out when the next train leaves and find me at the ticket counters. You, sis, take this eagle," — he nodded at me, — "I'll take the bags, and we all run to get in line for tickets."

Half an hour later, all problems were successfully resolved. Zhenya had worried for nothing; our train wasn't leaving soon. Finding a spot in the shade, we conveniently placed the bags on a bench at the beginning of the platform. The military men bought lemonade, I took out grandma's pies, and everyone started waiting for the train to depart. It was great sitting in the shade of the bushes and not having to hurry anywhere. My aunt calmed down and chatted happily with the new acquaintances.

 — "Zhenya," — I called.

 — "What do you want?" — she turned to me, interrupting the conversation for a second.

 — "I need to pee."

The smile vanished from my aunt's face. It immediately became serious. — "Go behind the bushes and do your business."

 — "No, that won't do," — the military man stood up for me, — "Semyon, grab the 'eagle' and quickly to the toilet."

Semyon sighed, for some reason looked up and down at Zhenya's legs, and silently went with me to the station building. Making our way through the crowd, I was immensely proud. I wanted everyone to see what friends I had—real military men. When we were returning, the announcement for boarding our train came over the radio. Semyon put me on his shoulders, and we quickly cut through the sea of people. From afar, from the height of Semyon's stature, I saw Zhenya. She was standing pressed against the bushes and arguing about something with the other military man. It was clear how Zhenya desperately shook her head, and he tried to whisper something in her ear. Seeing us, Zhenya was delighted, pushed the military man away, and started packing the bags. Then we walked along the train, looking through the windows for empty seats. Already past the middle of the train, we managed to find an empty bench. The military men brought in our things, said goodbye, wished us a good journey, and went outside.

The carriage slowly filled with people. An elderly man and woman sat opposite us. They diligently stowed their bags both on the overhead rack and under the seat. Zhenya began to worry, nervously looked at her watch, and turned to me:

 — "Grisha, dear, sit here, guard the things. I need to run somewhere. I'll be back soon," — she asked and, tapping her heels, ran out of the carriage.

I sighed, took out my trusty pistol, and started guarding the abandoned bags. Apparently, it was my fate—to guard them the whole way. Time passed, no one attempted to take our things. The man sitting opposite silently read a thick newspaper, his wife knitted some rag.

It became really boring, so I started looking through the window at the hurrying passengers. Loaded with heavy bags, they ran, overtaking each other. Where they were rushing wasn't visible, and although mom forbade me from leaning out of an open window, I decided to see where everyone was running, wisely reasoning that mom wasn't here, and Zhenya was far away. Growing bolder, I pulled myself up on the frame. The smell of hot asphalt immediately hit my nose, and my ears filled with the noise of the station bustle. Looking out, I saw Zhenya standing there and immediately hid back, but she wasn't paying attention to me. Peeking cautiously, I watched as my aunt chatted with the familiar military men. They held Zhenya's hands, and she tried to break free, all while laughing merrily.

The driver coughed something into the microphone, then added more. But deciding he wouldn't be understood anyway, he simply closed the doors and immediately opened them again. People on the platform started running even faster, a crush formed near the doors. Zhenya quickly said goodbye to her friends, turned, and headed toward the carriage. The older military man made a swift dash, grabbed Zhenya by the waist, pulled her to him, and pressed his cheek to hers. My aunt hit his hands and disappeared through the doors.

The driver coughed into the speaker again, closed the doors, and slowly started the train. The military men passed by the window; I waved after them and moved away from the window, as Aunt Zhenya appeared in the aisle. Pressing herself against the passengers, sometimes with her butt, sometimes with her chest, she made her way to her seat. Finally, kneeing the most obtuse man, Zhenya sat down on the bench.

 — "Phew! It's very hot outside," — she said, wiping her red face.

 — "Yes," — our neighbor agreed, not looking up from her knitting, — "this summer will be a hard one."

I didn't interrupt their conversation and focused on the window. Zhenya fell silent, lifted me onto the bench, and stood next to me, happily exposing her heated face and hands to the cool wind. I really liked standing like this, pressed against the glass by Zhenya's firm stomach, feeling her chest softly against my back. It became hot from Zhenya, but it was still nice that she didn't shoo me away from the window like mom did, nor scare me with tales of torn-off arms and heads. Before the train left the city, it stopped several times, and a few more passengers squeezed into the carriage. We had to move over and make room for an old grandma. Aunt Zhenya put the backpack up top and sat me on her lap. The train picked up speed, the passengers settled in their seats and busied themselves with their own affairs. Zhenya took two books from her bag—one for herself, one for me.

 — "Zhenya, what does the red armband with the letters 'P' and 'Zh' mean?"

 — "I don't know. Where did you see such an armband?"

 — "On your military man's sleeve."

 — "It says: 'On Duty'."

 — "Does he work in a restaurant?"

 — "Why do you think that?" — my aunt smiled.

 — "In our kindergarten, the duty helpers set the plates and clear the dirty dishes. And where are there plates at the station? Only in the restaurant."

Zhenya didn't answer, just laughed and ruffled my hair. Then she sat me in her seat and went out to the vestibule, but returned immediately. After walking through the carriage, my aunt agreed to play finger games. The game was fun, but Zhenya played inattentively and often lost. Then she sat crossing her legs, and it became uncomfortable for me.

 — "Stop wiggling your legs, it's uncomfortable to sit," — I asked.

 — "If you don't like sitting, then stand," — Zhenya replied irritably and put me on the bench.

I got offended, turned to the window, and started looking at the trees and poles flying by, the groups of cars gathered at the crossings. Sticking my hand out the window, I let streams of resilient air pass through my fingers.__P