Camping for Morons ✓

13: WE SHOULD GO CAMPING AGAIN

Extra Camping Tip : If, by some miracle, you do end up surviving, (in the words of Donna Meagle) treat yo self to some pizza. Does that need to be repeated? Treat. Yo. Self. 

We reach Linbeach Hospital close to four in the morning. We would have gotten there earlier if Oliver hadn't taken directions from a drunk old man outside a bar. We drove around the same fountain in the town square four times before Oliver finally understands that yes, those directions the drunkard gave him were wrong. Luckily, we did spot a sign that lead straight to the hospital.

I'm guessing not much happens in the small town of Linbeach (population: 845) because when me, Callie, Jack and Oliver step into the hospital's lobby the receptionist eyes widen so much I'm afraid they're going to fall out. I admit we aren't in the best condition. Jack's limping from the bleeding claw marks on his leg, Callie still has this glazed look in her eyes like she's been smoking too much pot, I look really unhinged with my badly cut hair and Oliver is grinning at his pocket knife, flipping it up and down in his hands. We're battered and bruised and a little gaunt in our appearance but it doesn't justify the way she looks at us like we're demons as we approached the reception.

"Excuse me," I rest my hands on the desk, I don't miss how she flinches back a little. "We really need your help." I nudge my thumb to the right, to Jack, "my boyfriend's been attacked by Pat – by a bear, it cut his leg with its claws." Callie sighs and rests her head on the desk. I point to her, "And my friend here ate some toxic berries in the woods and she's been acting really weird ever since."

The uneasiness seems to seep out of her body when I offer her a smile but the worry is still there.

"Don't forget the drugging, Peryn," Oliver says, leaning back on the desk with his elbows.

"Oh yeah," I say, "and we were all drugged by some weird married couple who live about fifteen miles north of here."

"Weird is an understatement," Oliver says.

"How? How did this even happen to you guys?" she asks as she goes to pick up the phone, hopefully to call a doctor and not security.

I chuckle, "It's a long story."

"Right," she says, her brown eyes flickering between the four of us, "take a seat, someone will be with you in a second."

I nod, "Great, thank you."

We walk into the large waiting room opposite the reception. Callie quietly sings along to the One Direction song playing on the small speakers on the walls. We're not the only ones here, there's a middle-aged man in the corner. He's leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. I'm just wondering what's wrong with the guy when Jack nudges me with his elbow.

"Hm?" I say, glancing at him.

He clears his throat, "Did...did you mean that earlier?"

"Mean what?" I say, even though I know exactly what he's talking about.

"When you said I was your boyfriend," he says, looking at me with those big brown eyes, "did you mean it?"

I answer him by leaning forward and pressing a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. "Of course," I whisper.

Jack grins.

Oliver makes gagging noises and we both give him the middle finger. Callie claps her hands. "Oh my God!" she beams, jumping up from her seat, "I knew it! I knew you two would work things out! You're, like, my OTP."