Broken Strings

Was it all worth it?

The morning sun raised its gorgeous head over the far away mountain range making me shuffled in my swag in an attempt to avoid its stinging rays. “You’re awake!” Peter was up and walking around. A pan in hand, the smell of a smouldering campfire overriding the smell of eggs and bacon.

“You’re up?” I questioned him. “It must be just dawn?”

“I got up early. I figured I shouldn’t have made you feel uncomfortable yesterday when I spilled my guts to you. You don’t deserve to be pulled down into my problems,” he said quite casually. “So I made you breakfast, eggs and bacon!” he held up the pan and waved me over. I wriggled from my swag and wrapped a blanket from Peter’s backpack around me. The sun blinded my sensitive eyes and I squinted in order to see the impressive campfire Peter had built.

“Lovely,” I praised him.

“Yeah, I’m actually quite proud,” he handed me a plate of eggs and bacon, the smell tempting me greatly.

“Well I’m still a virgin,” I laughed thinking nothing of what I had just said. Until I really thought about it. I looked to Peter hoping he understood, but his food was spat across the grass.

“Huh?” he looked so shocked and utterly confused.

“A campfire virgin,” I rolled my eyes, “I’ve never made my own campfire,” I corrected myself.

“Oh, that would make more sense.”

“What?” I questioned him, “You don’t believe I’m a virgin. I told you I’ve never had a boyfriend, does that mean that you think I’m a sl-” Peter cut me off.

“Hey ‘Lee, no!” he spat. “Of course I don’t think that. I just wasn’t sure what to make of what you just said,” he raised his fork and pointed to me, “You are nothing like that.”

“I am by the way. A virgin,” he looked up from his face, an awkward smile on his face. Oh how I love making him uncomfortable, it’s sad really.

“That’s good for you,” he smiled before bursting into laughter. “You’re queer!” he chuckled.

“You don’t need to remind me,” I huffed.

“So-”

“You’re gonna ask what we’re going to do now, aren’t you?” I nodded.

“Sure, go ahead,” I prompted.

“I think we should press on,” he sounded like my Father producing bad news.

“Ooh but I really wanted to go to the fair again!”

“’Lee we don’t have the money to go again,” he whined scraping his leavings onto the grass beneath his feet.

“Who says we need money,” a sheepish grin overrides my features as an idea that I would generally never go for pops into my head.

“You don’t mean-”

“Yes,” I assured him, “We’re sneaking in.”

“I’m not sure this is such a well thought through plan?” Peter questions me as we approach the coloured carnival flags.

“Don’t worry, I’ve done this plenty,” I assured him with a lie. Maybe just once.

“Well that’s okay then,” his tone was sarcastic, making me laugh. “So what? We just sneak under when the ticket guy isn’t looking?”

“Yep,” I whispered. By my side Peter was having a mini panic attack.

“You’re such a horrible influence one me,” he chuckled.