Turmoil

Following Trails

I am never, ever letting Elsie pick a camp again. I curse her brother in my mind and curse my friends' bad judgment too. People who take on challenges from stupid people and drag their friends down to hell with them are the worst type of people.

But hey, I tell myself, at least next year it's Abigail's turn to pick camps, and we'll be on a sandy beach in Malibu, wherever Malibu is next year, getting gorgeously tan.

"Ow shit, "

Atlanta slit her shoe open a while back and Tim suggested that she'd just go trekking barefoot, instead of hopping around in one shoe. Phoenix actually offered to carry her, and while Atlanta tiny, that is some serious dedication on his part. She refused. If I had a boyfriend like Phoenix I'd let him carry me everywhere. So now we were showered with a torrent of curses each and every time she stepped on a jagged stone.

"Shut up Atlanta, " Tim mumbles " I'm trying to concentrate, "

Even though Tim proved to be intelligent initially, we quickly discovered that his intelligence did not extend to map reading. So far, we were led astray five times, and two out of the three bases we did reach were already stripped bare.

All we have so far is a sheet of polyester, which I guess will substitute a home for us during the coming weeks. Thinking about two more weeks of this is like swallowing cough medicine because cough medicine never tastes like what it said on the bottle. All cough medicine must be made by morbid, twisted humans with no taste buds. On the website of Camp Turmoil, it was not mentioned that activities included wandering around a forest aimlessly.

I'm hot and sticky, we've been wandering around for hours on a fruitless shirt, and the darkness is shimmering in the air, dusk descending gradually with grace. Atlanta's eyes, they flash in the darkness, like two lightbulbs set alight by a jolt of electricity. Phoenix is looking at me, and instantly all I can think is - uh oh.

"If you had given me the map when I had asked for it, we wouldn't be in this situation Tim, " her voice is like nails scratching against a blackboard, full of venom " but no, your manly ego cannot handle being outdone by a girl, "

"Come on A, just leave it, " Phoenix tries to take hold of her, but Atlanta wriggles free, and hops over to a tree, near to where I stand. She lifts her foot up gingerly, and I can see it, it's bleeding, the bottom of her foot a mess of red and dirt. I don't know much about wounds, but I do know that if she doesn't clean that out, it's going to get infected.

"Oh so this is my fault then, " the map in Tims' hands trembles a little " my fault for taking the blame when none of you can even read a map, "

Atlanta scoffs and her eyes roll backward in her sockets.

"If you were listening, you'd know that I know how to read maps, " she lets go off the tree and sets her foot down.

"But you hate maps," Tim exclaims, and I grit my teeth. I'm so tired of this tiny spectacle. We're all tired, and hot, and hungry because the snacks that Atlanta had brought are at the end of our digestive system by now, somewhere in the small intestine.

"And I hate you, " she says very calmly and walks over to him " now give it to me, "

"No, "

The map, already dog-eared and battered from our adventure, is now clasped between them. Both of them are glaring. And all I can think of is if they tear that map to pieces, we'll never get to the last base, we will never set up camp, and we will die in these woods from starvation, eating the soles of our runners.

This scene, it looks exactly like something you'd see in a playschool, two children fighting over a toy. And every snotty child needs a responsible adult. I'm the adult.

"Stop it, " I say, and step forward so that I'm positioned between them.

My head is spinning. Usually, I didn't have to deal with situations like these. My friends are all civil and do not try to tear vital parts of information from each others grasp in the middle of the woods. I swallow back a curse word and reach out.

"Tim, give the map to me, you'll tear it, "

I'm not pretending to be an adult. I am an adult.

Our eyes clash, his cold with defiance, mine red hot with the heat of dominance. Neither of us is willing to lower our gaze. It isn't long, however, before the ice melts under the intensive scrutiny of the fire. Tim let's go, and the map is in my hands.

"Thank God, " Phoenix sighs. Yes, Thank God, I think, Thank God that there is at least one responsible human amongst these children.

"Tim, I think it's Atlanta's turn to have a go now, " I say as if speaking to a toddler at the age of five. My tone of voice doesn't slip by unnoticed.

"What do you think I am, two? " Tim snorts.

I want to snap at him that yes, I do think he is two, because he is acting like a small child. But I take a deep breath. Responsible adults, do not sass five year olds. Responsible adults are calm and cool and controlled. The smile that brushed against my lips is flawless.

"No, of course not, " I say to him and then I turn and hand the map to Atlanta telling her " if you mess it up Tim gets it back, "

She hobbles over on one foot, and she's probably in pain but her face doesn't betray anything. As I'm handing her the map, I lower my voice so only she can hear.

"Please don't mess this up, "

Her eyes, two storm clouds caught in a mist of sky sparkle as they draw out my own.

"Don't worry, " she assures me " I won't, "