August turned out to be unusually hot. It was unbearably hot. The grass withered and no longer caused pleasant sensations when the foot, accidentally slipping out of the sandal, touched it; on the contrary, with each step, emitting a disgusting crack, it crumbled into dust. The sun was burning with incredible force: linger under the heat for a minute and sand immediately poured out of your eyes. It seemed that even time could not stand the suffocating heat and dragged on slowly, like melted Camembert cheese. The second hand on the clock was lazily moving in a circle, just about to freeze, and the clock itself, located on the terrace above a shabby chest of drawers, threatened to spread like an oil pancake of Salvador Dali, as did Lizka.

She had never seen such heat at the end of summer. Exhausted by the suffocating embrace of August, Lizka was swinging in a hammock under the apple trees in the garden and, sadly realizing that she was living the last days of summer vacation, gnawing on an apple and looking at the tablet at the next episode of the Korean romantic drama. Every now and then Lizka looked up from the tablet and looked around with a hazy gaze: now at the clock, now at the drooping heads of the ageratum in clay pots.

«Something Makar can’t see,» Lizka noticed, as slowly as the creeping hand on the clock, and again returned to the intrigues and love affairs unfolding on the tablet screen.

An hour later, Lizka, upset by the lack of «chemistry» between the actors (no matter how hard they tried), turned off the tablet. She had a tingling sensation in her shoulder from lying there for a long time. Indignant at the myriads of invisible needles pierced into her body, and feeling like a cactus, she went in search of Makar.

Makar was Lizka’s only and best friend, and also the most popular guy at school. Tall, slender, fit, with thick dark brown hair, blue eyes with a tint of ice, filled with unshakable youthful self — confidence — all this attracted the girls. They followed him around and, in an effort to one day become the girlfriend of the most popular guy, showered him with smiles and gifts. However, with the girls, Makar remained an impregnable rock, arrogant and cold. He was only close to Lizka.

Makar and Lizka have been friends since birth. Even earlier — in the bellies of their mothers. Makar’s mother, Irishka, an emotionally restrained blonde — haired woman with sky — blue eyes, and curly — haired brunette chatterbox Marishka, Lizka’s mother, became friends in the maternity hospital. They were in the same room. Very often, Lizka and Makar, feeling an invisible connection, greeted each other with pushes and kicks in the womb. They were born one after another, first Makar and a couple of days later Lizka. And then it turned out that Lizka’s parents, after the birth of their daughter, ended up as new residents in a high — rise factory building in the town of Metallurg. Now new mothers and their children were connected not only by the maternity hospital, but also by a common landing on the seventh floor.

The family friendship grew stronger.

From their first days, Makar and Lizka spent time together — first in a cradle, and then in kindergarten, school and even at the dentist. As children, they played on the flight of stairs, while Makara’s mother was busy in the kitchen with borscht or jars of pickles (preparing, so to speak, a container for vegetables from grandmother’s dacha). Or at Lizka’s house, while her dad — tall, thin and clumsy, in a word, lanky Vasily, and Makar’s dad, Uncle Lenya with great «authority» on his stomach, crushed the sofa, shouting in unison: «Goal!!!» On the other hand, what happened most often, the children sat in the yard for days on end: picking in the snow, if it was winter, or rummaging in the sandbox.

Once on one of the wonderful summer days, five — year — old Makar was sitting in the middle of the sandbox and «baking» shortbread cakes. Five — year — old Lizka was busy nearby, building a castle for the princess. Of course, she was the princess herself. Lizka was already erecting a fortress wall around the castle when suddenly the thought occurred to her that the princess could not live in the castle without the prince. Lizka glanced sideways at Makar. There were already a dozen cakes in front of him. Lizka stood up, rested her plump little hands (at that time they were still chubby) on her soft sides, and standing in the middle of the sand castles, she demandedly turned to Makar with a very immodest proposal: «Merry me!»

It so happened that at this important and fateful moment, a large green booger smoothly rolled down from Lizka’s small nose upturned to the sky. With his mouth open, Makar watched as the booger slowly slid down, and when it hung on Lizka’s upper lip, he grimaced. Lizka calmly licked the snot, sniffed and with a sincere smile full of love, leaned towards Makar. Makar could not stand such a revelation. With disgust, he shouted «Fi!» and threw a tin mold at Lizka along with a sand cake.

Makar often later recalled this ridiculous situation with laughter and jokingly called Lizka a «snot — nosed wife.» Each time, hearing the nickname, Lizka swung at Makar, threatening to hit him on the back of the head, and in the depths of her heart cursed that snot that she hated. «If it wasn’t for the snot, maybe it would have worked,» thought Lizka.

Of course, Lizka was flattered by the idea that the most handsome guy in the school was friends with her, and her classmates, no! — all the girls were openly jealous of her. But in her heart, Lizka wanted to cross the line and one day leave the friend zone. Her friendly affection for Makar had long grown into sympathy and even something more — for more than a year, Lizka had been secretly sighing and pining for Makar.

She didn’t have to search for long. Makar, crossing his legs cross — legged, sat under the shade of a huge oak tree that spread wide branches at the edge of the potato field — hiding from the scorching rays of the sun.

«Oh, there you are! I was following you!»

Lizka, slyly narrowing one eye, quickly ran along the beds with onions, then quietly crept between the layers of potatoes, once green with tops and full of Colorado beetles, but now standing with withered gicha, and stopped a couple of meters from Makar. Drawing her head into her shoulders, Lizka squinted her other eye, which made her look like a Mongol khan in ambush, and, bending double, stepping carefully, tiptoed up to her friend from behind.

Unsuspecting Makar, bowing his head over the plantain, thoughtfully fingered it in his hands. His T — shirt became wet, leaving a dark stain between his shoulder blades, and Lizka noticed dewdrops of sweat on the young man’s tanned neck.

— Oh! — She exhaled, feeling a pleasant thrill in her chest, and rushed at Makar. She grabbed her friend by the neck and whispered ominously in his ear:

— You can’t hide from me, my friend, — and even more ominously than she expected, with an obvious wheeze, as if she was tormented by asthma, she blew into the same ear, «ha — ah!»

Makar shuddered and pressed his shoulder to his ear.

— Back off! — He elbowed Lizka in the side. Not hard, but enough to feel his elbow brush against the girl’s ribs.

— Oh!

Lizka squealed and plopped down on the ground next to Makar. The earth trilled the laughter from her chest.

— What are you doing here without me? — Lizka rattled off, laughing.

She stretched out her long legs in front of her, and then her gaze fell on a book in the withered grass — another book that Makar carried with him everywhere until he read it.

— Why am I asking? And so everything is clear. And why don’t you rest in the last days of summer?

It was Makar who insisted on relaxing at his grandmother’s cottage last summer before final school year, although Lizka had been dreaming with inspiration all winter about enjoying the white sand and the splashing of gentle ocean waves somewhere in Thailand or the Caribbean. She was already accustomed to the fact that Uncle Lenya, the head of the Albatross travel agency, every summer gave the children a ticket to a summer camp on the sea coast, and, which happened very often, somewhere abroad. However, this year it didn’t work out, and instead of white sea sand, Lizka was greeted by a muddy pond with Baba Lucy’s ducks swimming in it.

Grandmother’s country house was located in Mishkino — a tiny village of two streets and an alley that connected the streets together, like the letter «N» — somewhere on the steep slopes of Udmurtia, devoid of trees, but well warmed by the sun.

Makar told Lizka that Mishkino used to be a Tatar village, and it was called differently: «Something to do with a sore throat,» he said. According to one of the versions (which Makar did not know, but he remembered from his grandmother’s stories), the descendants of Abylai Khan lived here — how miraculously the descendants of the Kazakh Khan ended up on Udmurt land has remained the greatest secret for many centuries for the village residents; According to another and more plausible interpretation, Mishkino is an ordinary village and there is nothing remarkable here, except that gaffer Abylach once lived in this village, quite blazing with a passion for araki. But no one knew for what reason the village, once fenced with plowed hills, but now completely overgrown with grass, suddenly began to be called Mishkino.

The summer cottage of Grandma Lucy, Makar’s grandmother, was a neat two — story house made of whitewashed brick with a blue door in the spirit of Provence, leading to a terrace — buried in flowers in summer, and covered in snow in winter — with a view of the main street, and an apple orchard in the yard. Behind the house there was a vegetable garden consisting of a couple of beds and potato plantings.

Makar’s grandmother, an exotic personality and an avid lover of Indian cinema, in her youth, thanks to the quarterly magazine «India», was extremely keen on yogic science: she wrapped her body in unimaginable asanas and over and over again wrote the mantra, essence and meaning with red henna on her right shoulder blade which were known only to her alone. Even now, if you accidentally look under Grandma Lucy’s shirt, you can see dark, blurry spots ingrained in the flabby and wrinkled skin, in which you can barely recognize the intricate squiggles. Makar’s grandmother often threatened, chanting mantras, in a bright sari to go to the homeland of yogis — to look for her guru in order to receive true knowledge from him and achieve liberation from illusion. Maybe for this reason Uncle Lenya founded a travel agency — so that one day he could send his mother (and Grandma Lucy was his mother) on a trip to India.

However, instead of the coveted country with an extravaganza of colors, flower garlands around the neck, endless dancing and meditative practices, for many years now, with the onset of the spring — summer farming season, Grandma Lucy went to the country house, where until late autumn she selflessly spent her peaceful days growing vegetables and ducks, and hanging garlands of garlic under the terrace roof. Perhaps it was here, in Mishkino, and not in distant and mysterious India, that she discovered her moksha.

«Well, okay, okay,» Lizka agreed with a note of regret in her voice about the loss of a euphoric vacation abroad and the fact that her new swimsuit is not at all suitable for a village pond. And yet Lizka did not regret one bit that Makar invited her to his summer cottage, because this summer brought them even closer together, making Lizka’s heart flutter.

The guys had fun all summer. They woke up early in the morning, jumped out of the house into the garden to run barefoot on the grass strewn with silvery dew, shining in the rays of the rising and still gentle morning sun, and then returned to breakfast. By this time, Grandma Lucy was bringing fresh cow’s milk, cottage cheese and butter from her neighbor. Lizka always had corn flakes on breakfast, pouring milk over them and adding Nesquik to it. And Makar loved sandwiches with butter sprinkled with granulated sugar. Sometimes, instead of sugar, he put sausage on top of butter and drank sweet cocoa.

After breakfast, the guys walked the ducks. There were few ducks, only five, but for Lizka and Makar, who grew up in the city, it was a real exciting adventure. Chasing the living creatures in front of them, the guys went down the main street to the end of the village, turned into an alley where there were only two houses, and ran out to the pond. While driving the ducks into the reservoir, Lizka and Makar also rushed into the water with wild laughter, and with the ducks spent half a day there, splashing in the muddy water.

After lunch, the guys each did their own thing. Makar preferred to read and Lizka preferred to watch dramas or languidly lounge in a hammock under the apple trees, dreaming about this and that, but most often, she dreamed of Makar. Sometimes Lizka’s conscience would overcome her, and she would jump up, like a scalded duck at Christmas, and run into the garden to help Makar’s grandmother to weed out the weeds from the onion beds, surrounded by tomatoes and vines with bean pods hanging from them.

In the evenings before going to bed, if the weather was clear, the teens leisurely strolled along two streets, then returned home and went to the garden, where they looked for a long, long time at the night sky dotted with stars. Makar told Lizka about space and the planets, showed Ursa Major and Bootes constellation, and Lizka didn’t care where each star was, she was simply attracted by their unattainable beauty and the opportunity to make a wish if one of these stars suddenly decided to fall.

— Makar! Desire, desire! — Lizka screamed once, seeing an asteri flashing and fading in the sky. — Make a wish quickly! The star is falling!

She herself immediately put her palms together, and her face took on an innocent-childish expression with slight impatience in anticipation of a miracle, exactly the kind when children believe in the Tooth Fairy and look for chocolate under their pillow in the morning.

— It didn’t fall, — Makar objected mockingly. — And not a star at all, but a meteor that entered the Earth’s atmosphere.

Makar did not explain why the meteor invaded the atmospheric space of the planet, for fear of disturbing Lizka’s mind, which was already driven by the «Korean wave.» And she didn’t need his explanations: what other meteors are there when it’s important to have time to make a wish?

A couple of times at the beginning of summer, the guys saddled up their grandmother’s old bicycle: Makar took control, Lizka sat on the trunk, her long legs slightly bent, and rode a good three kilometers to the Tatar village next door, to a disco.

To say that discos in that village were chic and glossy would be a pretentious statement — neither Makar nor Lizka, who had never been to real discos, with the exception of school parties, had the slightest idea about such entertainment for adult youth. But it’s worth it should be noted that discos had their own vibe, exotic for a city dweller.

Discos were held in a small, devoid of glamor, rural club that could barely accommodate fifty people within its gray walls — no dress code or face control. In the cramped foyer, swaying and trampling in a circle, danced the villagers — collective farmers and the rare youth who could not move away and remained in the village. Children, schoolchildren younger than Makar and Lizka, scurried back and forth — they mostly bullied each other and ran across the creaky floor with the linoleum worn and torn in places. In the corner, hiding behind a huge subwoofer, a local DJ in a black T-shirt with «Tik Tok» written in neon across the chest and a beaded skullcap on his head played local hits. A shabby disco ball flickered dimly above his head. Along the walls, on wooden chairs painted red, forming a kind of chill-out, the older generation sat like parrots on a perch. Suffering from lack of attention and rheumatism, they entertained Lizka and Makar, seeing them as potential interlocutors, feeding them local stories and horror stories.

— Have you heard? — Gaffer Mansur, somewhat deaf in one ear, shouted. — The red dog has returned. I howled last night, and it sent chills down my spine.

— Come on, it’s all lies! — The lean Gaishe-apa shouted in response in a thin voice. — Agil-aby shot her last year. I saw it myself. — And wrapping herself more tightly in her quilted vest, she added:

— Creepy. It was true what they said that she has a human face.

— Well, well, my darling, don’t be afraid, — Jabir-aby, an old man with gray hair like a dandelion on his head, clapped Lizka’s hand, confusing Lizka’s bewilderment with fear. — They really shot that dog and boarded up the windows in that house. Although they say that at night, through the cracks, you can see a red dog dancing on two legs in the flickering of a candle.

— In which house? — Lizka asked, and Dzhabir-aby turned to Makar and answered:

— The one on the outskirts of the village. Near him stands a withered elm. You guys are just heading past him. Did you see anything suspicious? No? You will be returning back, linger, and suddenly you will see something.

— What did you say?! Have you seen her?! — Gaffer Mansur craned his neck, putting the ear that heard forward. — What am I saying? You can’t kill a bat, they don’t die, but when they turn around they become even angrier, worse than before. If you give it a drink, soon the chickens will start dying.

— Oh, you damned evil spirits, — inserted the word Lyalya, a miniature, like a doll, old woman with a round face tightly wrapped in a painted scarf, sometimes blue with red poppy flowers, sometimes motley like a peacock’s tail.

Sometimes gaffer Mansur would start a conversation about the babayka: that they had seen her by the pond, but she didn’t care at all — she was sitting on the shore, her furry arms outstretched, laughing and splashing water, and her wild eyes burning with yellow fire.

— Well, sure enough, soon the Balalar will start disappearing! — He said at the same time. — The babayka stole away from Agil, and all because he shot the redhead. Now the payback has returned to him.

Or:

— Are you from Mishkino?! — Gaffer Mansur asked loudly. — Which way are you coming?!

— And what? — Lizka timidly asked. — Are there werewolves there?

— Yes, there is one path here, a favorite place for sorcerers. It leads straight through the forest, right to Mishkino, — Dzhabir-aby answered insinuatingly, smoothing the gray fluff on the top of his head.

Each time, after another terrifying story, returning home along the dark road, Lizka felt uncomfortable and shuddered at any rustle. After several more uncomfortable rides, Lizka finally invited Makar to switch places, and when the guys got ready for the disco, she enthusiastically grabbed the handlebars of the bike. There was another reason for this, Lizka didn’t like every Friday, sitting on the hard trunk, counting the bumps and bumps with her fifth point, which made her bruises on the soft spots turn purple. But pedaling turned out to be even more unbearable, and soon the guys stopped attending local parties altogether. In addition, neither Makar nor Lizka were avid partygoers, preferring to enjoy evenings in the company of each other, books and dramas.

July flew by unnoticed. Mainly because of the Colorado potato beetles, which multiplied so much that the potato tops were full of red and yellow «berries» and even the birds confused the beetles with the berries, circling over them every now and then. None of the pest control chemicals helped, and Grandma Lucy, handing Makar and Lizka each a bucket that was emitting kerosene fumes, instructed them to act the old-fashioned way: walk between the layers and, with a well-aimed snap of a finger, throw the insects into gasoline purgatory.

«Eh,» Lizka curled her lips in disgust after walking a couple of rows, and her hands became covered in sticky yellow goo.

Although the field was small, at the end of the work, Lizka’s lower back ached, her shoulder hurt and her thigh itched where the bucket made contact with the skin. And the next day, on top of everything else, Lizka’s eyes started to light up as soon as she went out into the garden and saw potatoes dotted with red and yellow peas.

And with a bitter sigh, throughout July, day after day, Lizka swept the beetles into a bucket. Then she began to crush them, putting all her fury into her fingers, and they burst with a loud pop, like unripe gooseberries, until suddenly, at one moment, the beetles strangely disappeared on their own, leaving behind gnawed tops.

August came, and Lizka had a new hobby. When darkness fell, she turned off the lights in the room, opened the window and, listening to the summer night, indulged in dreams.

It was already well after midnight when, wrapped in the heady aroma of lilies wafting from the garden, Lizka was awake again. Pulling her knees to her chest, she sat on the bed by the open window, and, inhaling the night air, saturated with the incense of flowers, listened to the rustling of leaves, the chirping of crickets and the croaking of frogs, when suddenly, unexpectedly for her, there was a knock on the door of her room.

— Lisa, are you sleeping? — She heard Makar’s muffled voice, and then there was a knock again.

Lizka jumped out of bed, turned on the night light and ran to the door. Opening it sharply, she knew that she would see Makar, but she was still surprised to notice his sad eyes on his pale face.

— I can’t sleep. Can I stay with you for a while?

— Of course, come in, — Lizka stepped aside, letting her friend into the room. — Did you have a nightmare? You look so-so.

Makar did not answer; instead, he stood rooted to the spot in the middle of the room, making Lizka even more wary.

— Does something hurt you? — Lisa walked around Makar and looked into his face.

Makar did not answer, he looked intently at Lizka. Her attentive and excited gaze of brown eyes was fixed on him, her eyebrows were slightly raised, a barely noticeable mole was visible on her right cheek, and a fallen eyelash on her left; her loose light brown hair fell in a soft sheet over her back and shoulders, and the T-shirt that Makar lent to Lizka as pajamas hung like a robe on her slender body.

«A funny sight,» thought Makar, and lightly touched Lizka’s cheek with his finger, picking up an eyelash from it. The eyelash obediently stuck to the finger. Makar blew sharply on her; she flew into the air and smoothly dived to the floor.

— You should have told me, — Lizka rubbed her cheek in embarrassment. — I didn’t even have time to make a wish. So are you okay?

She barely had time to ask, when suddenly Makar hugged her tightly and, leaning his head against her shoulder, muttered:

— It’s so good that I have you.

— Ah… — Lizka’s heart skipped a beat and began beating furiously, — … well, yes…

The next morning, Makar behaved as usual, and did not even say a word about the night’s incident. Lizka even thought that her friend was having an attack of sleepwalking — he looked too strange: he came suddenly in the middle of the night and after standing for a couple of minutes, squeezing Lizka in a tight embrace, just as suddenly and as if nothing had happened, he left. Lizka was sure of one thing — Makar was the only dear and most valuable person in the whole world for her. Well, after mom, of course, and dad.

Lizka sighed happily, suddenly remembering this incident, stretched, looking sideways at Makar; he never answered her why he couldn’t rest in the last days of summer. Sprawled on the ground, Lizka laid her head on his lap. Closing one eye, the girl stared dreamily at the oak tree crown, through which the cloudless sky glimmered faintly blue.

— Well, why are you silent? Tell me. Just don’t say you’re tired of resting. I won’t believe it. You’ve been cramming your books all summer, not a day of rest. How people get tired of resting? I don’t understand. If it were up to me, I would enjoy the rest of my life. No studying, which melts my brain, no tedious work in a stuffy office among office plankton, — saying «office plankton,» Lizka smiled, pleased that she was able to use a phrase from the drama, — dreaming of only one thing — about vacation and the end of the working day in order to quickly get home. Not life, but melancholy.

Makar looked at Lizka, smiled at her and leaned his back against the rough trunk. Then he picked up the book and began to read:

— According to modern views on the origin of light, radiation in the space under consideration, found when applying Maxwell’s theory to the case of dynamic equilibrium…

Makar was one of those smart people who never stopped learning for a moment. Even in summer. However, this did not deprive him of his status as «the most popular guy in the school»; it only added to his coolness in the eyes of other students. But Lizka hasn’t been doing well with her studies and with teachers since first grade. That day, the director dropped in on the young students for class. Excited by his presence, Lizka poked Makar in the side and whispered loudly, so that the whole class, including the director, heard her: «Look, Makar! The divergent has arrived!» Lizka’s parents were immediately called to the director for a moralizing conversation. And while the chatty Marishka was talking to the school director, Sergei Leonidovich, who was seriously offended by the child’s joke, and Uncle Vasya was nodding to the rhythm of his wife’s words, another incident happened — Lizka fell asleep in the middle of a math lesson. And when the teacher, having pushed the dozing girl away, reprimanded her, Lizka just yawned and replied: «Auntie, you’re so boring, how can you not fall asleep here?» From then on, Lizka fell under the curse of being a careless student, and not a single teacher wanted to deal with her.

— ...at least if… — Makar continued to mumble.

— Oh, I’m begging you, — Lizka moaned, — shut up.

— And what did you read?

— What are you talking about?

— Well, don’t tell me you forgot? Have you looked into the chat? Have you seen your homework for summer? The minimum is to read at least one book for independent study. What topic did you choose?

— I am, — Lizka grinned slyly, grabbed herself by the shoulders and said languidly with a breath: «the story of kisaeng.»

Makar looked at his friend with suspicion.

— And when did you have time? You didn’t leave the tally, you didn’t pick up a single piece of paper, let alone books.

— And why should I do this if the drama was shown on Kiwi, — Lizka opened her eyes wide, put her index finger forward and, carefully tracing each letter in the air with it, said syllable by syllable: «The history of kisaeng.»

— Are you planning to tell your class teacher the plot from the drama?

— Well, she doesn’t know about it, — and Lizka smiled slyly.

Makar just grinned at her words and went back into silent reading, while Lizka indulged in her own dreams:

«Oh, last summer, and goodbye to a carefree childhood life! Final exams, university… I wonder where Makar is planning to go? I hope not to medical uni. I don’t want to go to medical school: injections, blood or something worse — ugh! And I can’t handle chemistry… But it would be great: Makar is a doctor, and I’m his nurse, lol… Oh, no, no, no! If Makar becomes a doctor, he will start looking for all sorts of illnesses in me, it would be better if he were someone else. Businessman, entrepreneur. And what? Not bad either. Then I can become Makar’s manager, or — even better! — his partner. Let’s open our own company, Makar will lead it — he will become the president of the company, and I will become the general director, and then we will get married and… in general, a truly serious adult life. Oh-oh-oh, work is not for me. As soon as I think that I will have to work, all my limbs are taken away, brrrr. Doing nothing and enjoying life is my job! Although I can become an actress, go to South Korea and act in dramas. I will become famous and will travel around the world on tours and organize fan meetings. Where should I go first?»

Lizka turned over on her stomach and looked at Makar’s sharp chin with barely noticeable stubble breaking out from under the skin.

— Hey, maybe stop reading already?

Makar took his eyes off the book and looked at Lizka in bewilderment.

— Who came up with the idea of planting an oak tree here? Your grandpa? — She asked, looking fascinated into her friend’s blue eyes, which strangely exuded warmth and at the same time gave coolness, like a glass of cola with ice on a hot day.

Makar looked up at the patterned leaves.

— Grandfather has nothing to do with it. The oak grew on its own.

— Then how long do you think it takes for a tree to grow so huge?

— How should I know?

— Well, you’re smart, come on, use your brains.

— But you, apparently, don’t, — Makar sighed. — A person has one brain. One! He has no brains, he has only one brain!

And he tapped Lizka on the head with his finger.

— Well, what are you doing? — Lizka shook her head, dodging Makar’s hand.

— And you don’t even have one, it’s empty!

— And why do I need him if you’re next to me, — Lizka smiled ingratiatingly.

Makar was briefly embarrassed by Lizka’s words, and then suddenly asked:

— What do you dream about?

— And you?

Makar put the book aside.

— I want to be a millionaire.

— Uncle Lenya’s travel agency went bankrupt? — Lizka was surprised and even raised herself up on her elbow.

— Why suddenly? — Makar was no less surprised.

— If you want to be a millionaire, then something is wrong.

— Just like that. It’s good when you have a lot of money.

— Well, yes, — Lizka nodded her head in agreement and again lay down on Makar’s lap. — Fine. In that case, my dream is… to become a millionaire’s girlfriend! And then I definitely won’t have to work. I will spend the rest of my life doing nothing.

Makar was about to point out to Lizka the stupidity of her dream, but at that moment, his grandmother’s voice came from the yard:

— Makar! Lisa! Where are you? — She shouted. — Here are the crazies, where did they go? Makar! Lisa! The parents have arrived!

— Eh, — Lizka sighed, — summer is over.

She rose to her feet and extended her hand to Makar:

— Get up, future millionaire; it’s time to go home. And how lazy I am to go to school!

Makar grabbed the girl’s hand, and Lizka, squinting her eyes to the side, smiled slyly and, waiting for Makar to rise from the ground, pushed him back with force, so much so that the guy fell on his back. Watching how Makar absurdly raised his legs and goggled his eyes at Lizka, she laughed, and then suddenly threw up her head and, putting her hands like a mouthpiece to her face, shouted at the top of her lungs:

— Summer, goodbye!

— Why are you yelling like that, Lizaveta? You’ll scare away the neighbors, — Uncle Lenya said loudly. Putting the «authority» in front of him, he clumsily walked towards the guys in light linen trousers and the same shirt with wet stains in the armpits. His forehead and nose were covered with sweat.

Lizka turned around, revealing her teeth and gums in a wide smile. At such moments, she was charming: her sincere smile shone with happiness, which involuntarily filled heart with warmth. However, Lizka didn’t like her own smile — and all because of one fang, which protruded especially strongly from the general even row of other teeth — and she smiled like this extremely rarely.

— What other neighbors? There’s no one here, — Lizka looked around busily and shrugged.

— Hello, — Makar rose from the ground and shook his father’s hand.

— Hi, — Uncle Lenya answered and looked at the guys. — Well, are you ready for school?

Makar nodded affirmatively, and Lizka, sticking out her lower lip, squinted her eyes to the side.

— Come on, Lizaveta, — Uncle Lenya grinned, — there’s only one year left, just be patient. And then you go to university, and go for a walk — freedom!

And he patted the girl on the shoulder encouragingly.

— Uncle Lyon, your words are in my brother’s ears.

— Which brother? — Uncle Lenya raised his eyebrows in surprise.

— God’s ears, — Makar explained and shoved Lizka on the shoulder. — Don’t be stupid.

— Yes, I know, I know, — Lizka answered, moving away from Makar. — I just mixed up the words.

— Well, yes, she got it wrong, of course…

— Dear! Makarchik! Lizonka! Well, where are you stuck? — a lyrical mezzo-soprano sounded from the direction of the garden and all three saw a slender and gentle creature standing in the middle of the apple trees and looking around in confusion.

— Come on, mom is calling, — Uncle Lenya commanded and pushed the guys forward.

Returning to Izhevsk in Uncle Lenya’s Volvo, the guys listened to the music station “People.Plus». Song with oriental motifs was heard from the speakers. Lizka knew the singer, she had once seen his video on Muztube, and now she was stamping her foot and shaking her head to the beat of the music. She even opened her mouth slightly to sing along in her own way, when suddenly Uncle Lenya turned down the volume and asked:

— Lizaveta, do you want to visit Turkey?

— Well, Lenechka, what kind of Turkey? Look at our Lizonka, — Mom Irina intervened.

— What’s wrong with me? I really want it. Especially to Istanbul!

And Lizka vividly imagined the square through which the red tram was driving. Then suddenly a picture unfolded in her imagination: that same singer and she — the heroine of his video! — with flowing hair in a long red dress with a thigh-high slit, he runs to the red tram, jumps on the step and, proudly raising his chin, gives a delightful and sly smile to the crowd of people, among whom Makar stands and looks at Lizka with a pleading, loving gaze…

— Oh, Lizonka, I didn’t mean that there was something wrong with you. You’re too beautiful here, and you’re always in the clouds. If you are going to Turkey, you will need an eye and an eye.

— What does she need Makar for? — Uncle Lenya interjected.

— Well, they can’t always be nearby! — Mom Irina was indignant.

— So I can handle it alone, — feeling that an argument was brewing between Makar’s parents, Lizka leaned forward and buried her chin in the seat of Irina’s mother. — I’ll also have to protect Makar from local beauties. Isn’t that right? — She turned to her friend. — Why are you silent?

— She’s right, mom.

— Didn’t understand. What do you mean, son?

— Well, I mean that although Lizka is faddy, she can give you a turn. It’s not for nothing that she watches Korean dramas, she learned all sorts of tricks, how to sew all sorts of types. You’re worried about this, right? What if they start pestering her on the street?

— Well… yes, — Makara’s mother sighed, — and yet…

Mom Irina looked worriedly at Uncle Lenya. He smiled encouragingly at her.

— And yet, Turkey is not Korea, — mother said with conviction, and no one began to contradict her. But Lizka, filled with the pleasant hope that suddenly fell upon her, was already selflessly dreaming: «Does this mean that next year we will go to Istanbul?»

***

— We’ve arrived, get out, people!

Lizka woke up from her nap. She didn’t notice how she fell asleep, and all the way to Izhevsk, dreaming about the eastern city, the heart of Turkey, she slept through it, leaning her head on Makar’s shoulder. She quickly jumped out of the car and, spreading her arms to the sides, stretched.

— Let’s unpack your suitcases, — Uncle Lenya opened the trunk, and Makar helped him take out bags and boxes with gifts from Grandma Lucy’s garden. Lizka also grabbed a box of tomatoes and a bag of beans, but Makar took the luggage from her.

— It’s better to roll them, — and nodded towards the suitcases to the side.

— Yes, sir! — The girl saluted and, grabbing her suitcases, ran to the entrance.

Out of habit, wrinkling her nose at the stagnant smell of cat urine and fried pies that permeated the walls of the entrance, Lizka called the elevator.

— Go first. We won’t fit everything. — Said Uncle Lenya, who had arrived after everyone, when the elevator doors opened in different directions, and pushed the guys forward into the narrow space of the cabin.

On the seventh floor, the elevator jerked, releasing the guys, and making a grinding sound, it went down again to the first floor. Makar put the box of tomatoes on the floor and took his suitcase from Lizka. A moment later, the elevator returned, delivering Uncle Lenya and Mom Irina.

— See you tomorrow, — Makar said to Lizka.

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