Sitting cross-legged on my lumpy getup, with my winter jacket zipped all the way up, I curse my lack of preparedness. Spring Break my ass. This fucking sucks.
I’m eyeing the bag hiding my vodka when a whistle sounds somewhere outside the tent.
Crawling, I unzip the flap and stick my head out.
Mr. Olson is standing near the main fire pit, whistle dangling from a string around his neck and a clipboard in his hand. He’s dressed in an outdoor version of his usual outfit. Tan cargo pants instead of khakis, winter jacket over his Darling Elementary polo and green tennis shoes rather than loafers. I think he’s close to my age, but he’s always dressed a decade or two older.
He raises a hand, “Gather round, everyone.”
“Gather round,” I repeat, shifting so my feet are sticking out of the tent and I can pull my boots on. I don’t remember a lot about camping but I do remember that shoes stay outside. The only way to make sleeping in a tent worse is to sleep in a muddy tent.
With more struggle than I’d care to reflect on, I get to my feet and head toward Mr. Olson.
“Hey, Miss Hall!” a trio of my students skip past and I feel the first real smile on my face since I got here.
I might be a touch salty about this whole experience, but I love my kids and it’ll be fun to spend time with them outside the constraints of the classroom.
Joining the crowd, I listen to Mr. Olson as he explains the outline for the next few days. Tonight is a dinner of sub sandwiches, brought by one of the parents, but the rest of the evening is just for us to settle in and get comfortable.
I almost snort at that comment.
Comfortable indeed.
Tomorrow we’ll loosely gather for breakfast, then an outdoors expert is coming to teach us about different survival techniques. Clearly I’m the only one who didn’t read the itinerary because no one else seems surprised by this. I’m not sure what an Outdoors Expert is, but that might be interesting. Then we’ll have dinner around a bonfire… And - wash, rinse, repeat - the same plan for the next day.
And then, god willing, we leave here alive.
I didn’t prepare properly for most of this, but I did bring a phone backup charger, so I might freeze to death at night, but I’ll still be able to text Maddie to tell her to wipe the browser history on my laptop.
“Hi.”
The deep voice startles me so bad I jump.
Trying to keep my heart inside my rib cage, my hand presses against my chest. Turning my head in the direction of the voice, and I find a man standing way too close.
He takes a small step back and puts his hands up, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
I vaguely recognize him. He’s a few inches taller than me. Black hair cut short. Clean shaven face. And blue eyes that are just a little bit… wild.
His smile is friendly, but a prickle of something runs up my arms.
I shake my head at myself. I can’t be acting this jumpy, or I’ll give myself a heart attack before the trip is over. “It’s okay, I was just zoned out there.”
“I noticed.” He holds his hand out, “I’m Adam, Ross’s dad.”
“Oh, right!” I shake his hand, my memory coming back. “Nice to see you again.”
Ross was a student in my class last year. He was a good kid - a little quiet, and very bright.
Adam’s grip tightens around my fingers for a half second before he lets go, “So, how’ve you been?”
“Oh, um… good.” I resist the sudden urge to wipe my palm off and tuck my hands into my coat pockets. The only thing that could make me enjoy tonight less, is small talk. But I still force out, “Yourself?”
I’m sure he’s a fine person, but I don’t really care. What I do care about is crawling headfirst into my sleeping bag and pretending I’m not here.
“Good. Good,” He hooks his thumbs in his belt loops and rocks back on his heels. “I’m doing alright. Got a divorce last summer.”
My mouth opens, then closes.