8

Pushing off from the sandy bottom, Lily emerged from the enveloping coolness and turned her face to the light breeze.

The sundress did not fetter the girl. With lazy movements, she kept herself afloat.

To the shouts of approval, Trubnikov hurried along the path. He raised the bottles over his head, showing off his booty. They flashed, reflecting the light of the lanterns, and joyful cries filled the night.

“I hope he doesn’t start talking now about what he saw,” the girl jumped out of the lake at this thought. A wet cloth covered her body. A sharp gust of wind, and the skin is covered with goosebumps.

Lily dived into the tent, changed her wet clothes for thin summer jeans and a top, hurrying to close her mouth to her overly talkative classmate. She knew Trubnikov very well: he told what he saw in a matter of minutes, and also embellished with his perverted inventions.

The guy was pouring alcohol into plastic cups.

“Hold it, Lilka, I added lemonade,” the cocktail handed out.

“And that’