Summer is a time for fun and relaxation, but only if you do not live in the countryside. And I was lucky to be born here. Cheerful raspberry. An inconspicuous point on a huge map of the country. Although what am I. Villages like ours are not marked on maps. Beautiful landscapes, clean air, terrible roads and vast land planted with guess what? Of course, raspberries.

“Alinochka, Alya,” a warm hand stroked her shoulder. - It's time to get up.

- Well, Mom, - I covered myself with a sheet with my head. Just like in childhood. And do not care that eighteen. I will hate getting up in the morning even in my old age. - Five more minutes.

“You've been saying that every five minutes for the last half hour.” Mom laughed. Come on, the coffee is cold. Or do you want to pick raspberries in the heat?

“I don’t want to collect it at all!”

What a life?! Summer, and you need to get up so early that the room is still dark. Yeah, I hoped to sleep off for the holidays. I squinted disapprovingly at my mother, who got up from my bed. Tall and skinny. Light long hair without a hint of gray hair is twisted into a bun, and her facial features are catchy, and this is without makeup. At the institute, she performed in the theater in the lead roles. They predicted a great future for her, they even called her to the capital. But she traded everything for dad and raspberries. Funny. The neighbors are still whispering about how such a beauty ruined her life, but my mother did not complain. And yes, she looked happy.

Maybe true love? What once and for all life? Maybe yes. It's not about money, that's for sure. Of course, we are not starving, but we cannot live in grand style either. Especially now.

Dad's business is not very good right now. Although the harvest was successful this year, almost all the stores with which we worked either refused or significantly reduced the price and volume of purchases. How special, huh! Dad was very upset, mom supported him. Romance. I would like that. But only to have something other than a garden and inexhaustible raspberries. I hope for another life.

I was lucky with my appearance - almost a copy of my mother. Only her eyes are brown, and mine are blue, and her lips are fuller and more pronounced. Because of this, he got it in high school. The girls teased me with a duck and a fish, and the guys tried to pinch me in the corridor, but such numbers do not work with me. Received in the ear, stomach or much lower. Was it in vain that dad, a former kickboxer, arranged self-defense training? Something, but I can stand up for myself. It came in handy, by the way, when my now ex-boyfriend was caught red-handed. Fell some girl and it's right before the exams! Eh, I beat him a little.

Okay, I think too much. Gotta get up.

Reluctantly pulling myself out of bed, I performed the daily ritual: washing, brushing my teeth, fighting my hair, not wanting to lie symmetrically. And why did I cut this idiotic caret? Who founded the tradition of cutting your hair when you start a new life? I dressed in a light gray T-shirt and colorful trousers, and then padded into the kitchen. Mom and Dad were busy in the yard, loading empty baskets onto the tractor trailer. After drinking barely warm coffee in one gulp, with a slight taste of cinnamon, and having a bite of a crispy toast with butter, I also went out into the yard.

“Oh, and here is our Berry, ready to pick berries,” dad let go of his invariable joke, it seems, for the millionth time, and laughed bassisto.

“If I can only distinguish them through my eyelids that stick together.” I yawned exaggeratedly and rubbed my eyes.

“Nothing, I grabbed a pitchfork just in case. You can support if it gets hard.

- Thank you, dad. You are caring itself, - I smiled wryly, but he laughed and, pulling me to him, ruffled my bangs with a huge palm.

I, too, could not stand it, laughed and kissed my father on the cheek. That was enough for me to be free and bring my bicycle from the veranda.

“What, you don’t believe in our technology?” Dad jokingly grabbed his heart.

“It doesn’t hurt to play it safe,” I retorted. - Okay, let's go.

- As you say, commander, - dad nodded and climbed into the cab, after which he started the engine. Mom sat next to me, and I sat in the trailer between the baskets, garden tools and trouble-free transport.

When the tractor started off with a hum and a slight rattle, I closed my eyes, but I knew where we were. So often they traveled the same way.

At first there was little shaking, but from both sides came the cackling of chickens, the mooing of cows, the soft ringing of bells, and the cries of shepherd boys. While we follow the main rural street along the houses and barns. Then turn to the left and the feeling of pleasant coolness and humidity touches the skin - we drove to a wide lake half hidden in the forest thicket.

I will definitely come here in the afternoon, for this I grabbed a bike. Relax and cool down after a hard day's work. Well, then the descent. So sharp that you have to grab the side of the trailer with both hands and ... stop.

“We’ve arrived,” dad said cheerfully, although this is understandable.

I took a look around our area. Bright green raspberry bushes, planted in neat rows, stretched so far that they seemed to go around the entire globe and end on the other side of the field. And on each of these bushes there are more than a dozen berries, to which my lazy cheerful days are dedicated.

Dad took the tools and went to set up drip irrigation. This made it possible to irrigate the raspberries sufficiently and save water well. Mom and I scattered around the rows.

Girls, sing a song! - There was a loud and cheerful voice of the Pope.

I wanted to say that all the villages in the area will soon hate us for the discordant howl, which we call singing. But then my mother dragged on:

“The ceiling is icy, the door is creaky…”

Very relevant. Yeah, in such a frying pan. But my mother sang so contagiously that the words of the song began to break by themselves. What dad is exactly right about is that the song is easier and faster to work with. In the end, even that stopped helping. When the sun rose to its zenith. My hands ached, my throat was dry, and in my head, except for the dream of putting myself in the refrigerator, there was absolutely nothing.

- So, I think it's time for a break, or rather a siesta, - dad deliberately distorted the last words, trying to sound like a Spaniard. - Home to enjoy cold wine on your hacienda?

Mom laughed.

- How beautifully you beat the offer of a drink. And something tells me you'd prefer something stronger than wine.

Dad clicked his tongue mournfully and raised his hands to the sky.

– Oh, what a pragmatic woman is my wife? No romance.

“I’m a realist,” my mother nodded and put her hand on my shoulder. - Well, home?

“No, I don’t like Spanish traditions,” I waved him off. - Better in Russian - I'll swim in the lake.

- Oh great! - Dad revived. - And according to our traditions, after working in such heat, you should not drink wine, but ...

“Here,” Mom folded her arms across her chest and squinted. - That's what I was talking about.

- I meant kvass, - dad quickly got out and also narrowed his eyes. - What? And what did you think? “Then he shook his head. - Oh, a drinking wife - grief in the family.

“But a drinking husband is just walking happiness,” my mother laughed and nudged him with her elbow. - Okay, let's go already, Spanish lover of kvass.

Chapter 2

- Alya, come with us too. Let's take it," Dad suggested.

- Just say that you need another helper with loading baskets of raspberries, - I laughed, and dad raised his hands to the sky.

“Pragmatist number two. Who do I live with?

“Not a pragmatist, but a realist,” I repeated my mother's words, and we all laughed.

I was going to help my parents anyway. They are just as tired as me. And it turned out faster and more fun. Having loaded all the baskets, we moved back. As soon as we got to the lake, I took a deep breath of the cool air. How good!

The tractor stopped and I got out of the trailer. But as soon as she dragged out the bike and looked around, her heart began to beat joyfully. On the shore, I saw a lonely figure sitting right on the grass in a snow-white top and jeans. Alina! Arrived! Grabbing a bucket of raspberries from the back, which I was going to use for personal needs - in other words, to gobble up, I stalked towards my friend and shouted loudly:

- Why are you sitting here, city? Look, let's go!

She started and jumped up. So frightened, as if I fired a gun over her ear, but when she saw me, she relaxed and her brown eyes flashed slyly:

“What are you yelling at, you redneck?” Do you know how intelligent people behave?

“No, I don’t know,” I drawled in the most stupid voice, after which we burst out laughing and hugged.

Alina and I were not only namesakes, but also very similar to each other. Straight sisters. Both are tall, thin blondes. Only she has straight and light blond, which she leveled with paint, and I have curly ones that cause a lot of trouble. Well, thanks to the gardens and the eternal stay in the sun, darker skin, in contrast to the white, almost marble of a friend.

As a child, we were inseparable, but then Alina's mother married a wealthy capital businessman and life changed dramatically. Chic clothes, fashion accessories, studying at a prestigious university and secular parties. But every summer she came here, preferring Malinka and communication with me to expensive resorts. At first, I even envied her. But then she began to notice that every year Alina came more and more silent and withdrawn. And now… she looked not just depressed and sad, but frightened.

- Everything is good? I pulled away and frowned, looking into Alina's eyes.

“Yes.” She quickly turned away, tucking a curl behind her ear. - That is, not really. I mean…” she sighed and looked at me. You have no idea how much has happened.

- So tell me, - I stroked her shoulder and picked up a bucket of raspberries. - Look how beautiful it is. I remember you ate so much that you were sick afterwards.

“Us,” Alina corrected and pulled off a bright berry, but did not put it in her mouth, but looked at it thoughtfully, holding it between her fingers. - Who would have thought that I would remember such an abomination with warmth and consider happy days.

- Oh, have we slipped into the old man's "it used to be better"? I clarified. - Do you have ten years?

“Exactly so,” Alina nodded without a shadow of a smile.

What's wrong with her?

“But I’ve cut my hair,” I said, straightening the fluffy ends. “Yes, yes, thanks for noticing and all that. I broke up with my boyfriend and according to a long female tradition ...

- You're nuts? Alina frowned suddenly. “Damn, do such stupidity. And what kind of ideal is worthy of sacrifice?

“Oh, he deserves the fat ass in the leopard leggings I caught him with. Got excited. It was necessary to beat him harder, then there would be no nerve left for a haircut. Anyway. It's not a hand. Will grow back.

“Still, it’s bullshit. Alina shook her head. “I dream of curls like yours.” Local handsome men are not even suitable for entertainment. However, she looked down. - Non-locals are not interested in people like you and me. Or only in a certain sense. You understand.