Tires rustled hastily on the dusty shoulder. The chain had been moaning for half an hour, but the rider ignored it. His overused legs were working hard: it seemed that if he stopped, they would fall off. There were still thirty kilometers to go, so the rider stoically continued to pedal.
He was late. As always. Damn it!
But he had calculated the time correctly! If it hadn't been for the screw that pierced the wheel, he would have made it in time. While the rider was looking for a tire, while it was being repaired, time passed. And now he's late for his first official job!
It's still morning, and the June sun is already blinding and baking. His back was soaked, and the hiking backpack was mercilessly rubbing his lower back. Happily, he took off his shirt on time and wrapped it around his head in the manner of a bandana, otherwise he would have received a sunstroke. However, another problem soon appeared—the midge. From time to time, another brazen mosquito would land on his shin or chest and feast on the blood with impunity. The rider would be happy to slap the vampire, but then a loss of pace is inevitable, and this cannot be allowed. So he endured the itching that had started.
One thing was pleasing: the farther away he got from the city, the less traffic there was and the more beautiful nature became. On the left and right sides of the road, there was a green taiga[1], and on the horizon the endless sky disappeared after another rise, then became blue again. Despite his fatigue, the rider enjoyed his journey.
However, he was recently overtaken by a bus with children, which means that he will be scolded upon arrival. Well, he's used to it.
***
And the hill again. He'll have to work harder. The rider got up from the seat, and, panting, pedaled at speed. Oh, if only he hadn't had a dilapidated clunker but a modern mountain bike! Then, he would have shifted gears and effortlessly rolled up the hill! But neither he nor his family could afford such expenses, so his father, a little embarrassed, gave him his grandfather's old road bike to repair.
To the surprise of the rider, the clunker withstood the trip. And even now, with a moaning chain, it was climbing a particularly steep hill. Once at the top, the satisfied rider laughed happily. He thought he deserved a reward. When he reached the slope, he pedaled again. The bike rushed downhill.
A stream of air blew out the sleeves tied at the back of his head, the rider sat back on the seat and spread his arms. A smile of genuine happiness appeared on his face, and the rider shouted:
"Ye-ea-ah!"
And suddenly, a mushroom came out of the forest onto the shoulder.
The rider's eyes widened. He grabbed the steering wheel and tried to slow down smoothly, but the speed was too high. The rider pressed both handbrakes, and the wheels screeched to a stop. He jerked the steering wheel, and the bike skidded into a ditch.
Inertia threw the rider over the steering wheel. The backpack and bushes cushioned the fall, but the clunker flew right into the solar plexus with the steering wheel.
O-o-ouch.
"Are you okay?" A soft, gentle voice was heard.
The rider looked up. Directly above him on the shoulder stood what he mistook for a giant mushroom—a miniature girl in a wide-brimmed straw hat. His eyes widened in amazement.
"Are you an angel?"
"What a strange question! I'm just a girl."
"Just... a girl?"
The guy's surprise was easily explained: the girl possessed truly unearthly beauty. Her milky-white skin seemed to shine in the sun, and her shoulder-length golden hair gently fluttered in the summer breeze. There was a warm smile on her pretty, though pale, face, and amazing purple eyes looked out curiously from under the brim of her hat.
But the angel was not dressed according to the situation: a linen sundress and beige sandals did not look like a traveler's outfit at all.
"What's wrong?" the girl asked.
"Well..." The rider got up, dusted himself off, picked up the bike from the ground. "Where would a girl come from in the middle of the forest?"
The rider began to climb onto the road.
"I went to the camp by bus. Let me help you."
The girl bent down and grabbed the steering wheel.
"Thanks."
The rider appeared on the road behind the bike. Now, the girl managed to examine him. A lanky guy with freckles on his nose, though brown-haired, with a peasant haircut "under the pot" and funny eyes. He had a shirt tied around his head, denim breeches on his legs, extremely worn sneakers and some ridges of mosquito bites.
Taking the steering wheel from the girl, the guy rolled the bike away from the edge and put it on a kickstand.
"You said you were going to the camp? To Pioneer?"
"There," the girl smiled.
"Why not with everyone?"
"One little girl got sick, the bus stopped. Well, I went out to get some fresh air. And then I look—the bus is leaving." The girl spread her hands. "They've forgotten me."
"How could they forget someone like you?" the guy was surprised. "You're… well…"
"I'm an albino," the girl nodded. "My name is Picture."
"And I am Demimoden. Nice to meet you!"
"De-mi-mo-den?" the girl thought. "I don't know such a word."
"Few people know him!" the guy exclaimed proudly. "Rare because!"
"What does it mean?"
"Uh… well… Demimodens are people who live for their own pleasure, that's it!"
"Hmm... that's a good word, I'll remember it! By the way, what's your age?"
"Nineteen."
"And I'm only twelve, even though I'll be thirteen next Friday!" Picture shifted her gaze from the guy to the bike. "You asked me about the camp… Aren't you going to it by any chance?"
"Yeah!" Demimoden smiled. "To work. I'll be a counselor!"
"Great! Can I ride with you? On the rear rack?"
"Are you sure? Wouldn't it be better to wait until someone comes to pick you up?"
"They'll see us on the road. The way I saw you when the bus was passed by."
"Then wait a second."
Demimoden took off his backpack and put it on the asphalt. He rummaged in his outer pocket and pulled out three worn leather belts. Picture looked at the guy's manipulations with curiosity.
"What's that for?" she asked.
"The backpack needs to be fastened. Otherwise, it will get in your way. Help me, please."
Demimoden closed the flap of his pocket and turned the backpack over. Then, one by one, he inserted two belts between the straps and turned to the girl:
"Hold the bike steady so it doesn't tip over."
Picture stood on the other side of the running board and grabbed the steering wheel with one hand and the seat with the other.
"Right?"
Demimoden smiled.
"Yeah. Now hold the bike tighter."
The guy picked up his backpack from the asphalt and began stuffing it between the upper and lower tubes of the frame. Although there weren't many things in it, the action was still fraught with difficulties. Nevertheless, after a couple of minutes, Demimoden managed to attach the backpack to the upper tube and fix it with the remaining belt from below.
Exhaling contentedly, he looked at Picture.
"Well, that's it! We can go now!"
"Hooray!"
***
This time, the road was relatively gentle, and a brief respite and pleasant passenger added strength to Demimoden. He was no longer in a hurry, but drove at a comfortable pace. From time to time, a slightly painful smile appeared on his face: Picture, turning its head, tickled his neck with the brim of her huge hat. However, he wouldn't complain about it for anything in the world. Look, a simple trip turned out to be the salvation of a damsel in distress! A real adventure!
Picture was silently enjoying the ride. At first, of course, they chatted about this and that, but realizing that Demimoden was losing his breath from riding and talking at the same time, the girl tactfully stopped bothering him with her questions.
Surprisingly, this guy turned out to be one of those rare types of people around whom Picture felt comfortable. He didn't treat her in a special way, didn't bombard her with questions about her appearance, and didn't tease her. Maybe it's because he's already an adult? But even among adults, she met unpleasant, ill-mannered people. There's probably something else here.
The girl's thoughts were interrupted by a car horn. So, they came back for her. Picture smiled faintly: she didn't mind riding to camp on the rear rack.
Demimoden slowed down. The khaki-colored Loaf[2] stopped, and an alarmed woman jumped out of it. Oh, what a lady! A snow-white short-sleeved shirt tucked into beige cotton trousers, a simple outfit that suited her slender athletic figure. Her beautiful face, glowing with mature youth, was framed by two black curls, and her hair was tied back in a ponytail. Elegant oval glasses were on the bridge of her nose. Through them, blue and green eyes anxiously stared at the guy.
"Hello there!" He waved to a woman who came up to him. "Did you lose the little girl?"
Picture slid off the rear rack and smiled amiably.
"Hello."
The woman resolutely approached them.
"Good afternoon! Picture, isn't that right?"
"It's me."
The woman examined the girl carefully. She seemed to be in perfect order, except for the hem of her sundress, which was a little dusty. The woman barely suppressed a sigh of relief.
"On behalf of Pioneer children's survival camp, I apologize for this incident."
"How did that happen?" Demimoden asked.
The woman looked at him.
"An oversight by the senior group counselor. She's new here, she forgot to count the children." The mask of officiousness fell from the woman's face for a moment, and she shook her head disapprovingly: "A mess, a total mess! The first shift this year—and it's already solid blunders!" Realizing that now is not the place and not the time or place, she caught herself. "I'm sorry. We have almost fifty children in our care, but there aren't enough counselors. A guy your age was supposed to have arrived yesterday, but he apparently had more important things to do!"
"Oops…" Demimoden looked down.
Picture giggled. The woman gave her a puzzled look, and then it dawned on her.
"The phrase 'at the beginning of the shift' meant that I should have arrived earlier, right?" Demimoden smiled apologetically.
"How… how could it be otherwise?" The woman was taken aback.
"I thought it was on the day of the shift, only in the morning…"
"You're Demimoden, aren't you?" The woman's eyes narrowed.
"Well... yes."
"And even so, you managed to be late!"
"But I found you a lost one!"
"And he took me for a bike ride!" added Picture.
The woman fell into a short stupor. She had a lot of thoughts in her head, so many reprimands, which, oh yes, she would certainly take out to two incompetent counselors, however… The girl seemed fine, the guy seemed good, which means that everything is not so bad.
Then she'll hold off on reprimands.
The woman looked alternately at Picture and at Demimoden. Then her face finally lit up with a smile.
"Well, my name is Сhromia, I am the senior educator and administrator of Pioneer. I hope we will work productively with you! And now, you lost soul," she turned to Picture, "it's time for you to reach your destination!"
She held out her hand, and the girl politely accepted it.
"As for you, Demimoden." Chromia glanced at her wristwatch. "I won't let you go to the assembly in this form. It means that your shift won't start until an hour and a half later."
"So I can get there on my own?"
"If you want to. Get yourself cleaned up upon arrival and come to my office. We will discuss further steps there."
Demimoden nodded with a smile and watched the unusual couple go. It looks like everything will be fine. That's nice!
[1] Taiga is the Russian name of boreal forest.
[2] This name refers to the Russian four-wheel-drive minibus type UAZ-452.