Remember Me

Six Summers Ago

I causally stared into the fire, one arm tucked up under my cheek, playing idly with the rounded edges of my book. I was too tired to really do anything, but too awake to go to bed. The flames of the fire entranced me, ever moving, ever changing, drowning out the world around me. Nothing but their orange flicker, the crackle of burning wood and the ever present, rhythmic crash of the surf here at Willow Tree Park.

I should put my book down, I thought, but it felt weird to put my book down. No one was calling for me and it was comfortable in Nathan's large camping chair. I shut up my thoughts and snatched Nathan's headlamp from where it laid on the picnic table. It was peaceful reading in the midst of the forest, with no one but myself and my comfort characters. I made sure to pack my favourite book, The Maze Runner by James Dashner, for Ruck n' Rumble this year. Whenever I felt anxious or didn't know what to do, Newt, Thomas, and Minho always had my back. I managed to read a few chapters of the book before shifting and contemplating heading off to bed.

The adults were off somewhere, probably on the field drinking and obnoxiously singing. The older kids were still at the beach. My siblings were asleep, and I didn't know where Nathan had wandered off to. No one would notice or care if I slipped off into bed.

It would take some stress off my father.

Should I?

Why, though?

I had nothing better to do. Why not take a while, and lay back here on one of the lounge chairs? I did a lot today. There really was no reason not to enjoy my free time.

"Charlotte!" Someone called in the distance.

"Nathan?"

"Ground control to Major Charlotte!" The voice said again.

I dragged my eyes away from the fire, up, and then up again to Nathan standing above me. He was smiling, wide, and his eyes were squinting against the light of the fire. It was cute and I wish I could take a picture to savor the moment.

"I'll trade you a s'more for your book," Nathan said, proffering the treat, the gooey melted marshmallow center threatening to drip onto his fingers. I frowned.

"No way!" I cried. "You'll get marshmallows all over the cover. Absolutely not."

"No I won't see," Nathan said, licking the marshmallow off his fingers and wiping them onto his pants.

"You're so gross, you know that," I chuckled.

"But my fingers are clean," he whined. "Now I can make you the best s'more ever!"

I shook my head but sat up anyway. Nathan took his pocket knife out of his pocket and placed it next to the camp stove. He snatched a bag of marshmallows from the table, alongside a roasting stick and began toasting the marshmallow. Only once the treat was deemed perfect, he then handed me the dessert.

I bit into it, bracing myself for the overwhelming sweetness, but I was pleasantly surprised to find how well balanced the taste had turned out. Nathan took in the pleased look on my face and beamed.

"Dark chocolate!" He explained, "to counteract the sweetness, right?"

"Yeah. I can't believe you remembered" I replied. "You've been paying attention."

Nathan took the opportunity to slide onto the lounge chair behind me, causing it to creak alarmingly. "It was my dad's idea," Nathan smiled, "so not technically mine but I'll gladly take the credit." I looked over to Nathan, who winked as he ate the second half of his s'more, licking marshmallows off his fingers lewdly and slinging his other arm over my shoulders.