The Boy With the Cigarettes in his Pocket

4: Getting Wet

Jamie takes control over my bike. I don't mind, in fact I was glad to have a break - or at least that's what I tell myself. I know I wouldn't mind anything Jamie does.

We speed down the hill from the town to the campsite. I'm on the seat and Jamie is standing up and pedaling. I'm a bit scared, to be honest. I'm only holding on to the saddle and it doesn't give much balance; but I try not to think of that.

It's still early, and the early morning wind rushing through my hair feels amazing. I close my eyes to try and distract myself from the possible consequences, but it just makes me feel even more scared.

It isn't long until we reach the campsite. Jamie and I flash our passes at the guard and the barrier rises to let us in. 

"Shall we go back to mine?" Jamie asks me.

I nod. "Sure,"

When we get to his, Jamie leaves my bike on the porch and lets himself in like he did the other night. He turns to me and puts a finger to his lip, instructing me to be quiet. I, of course, obey. We enter his caravan, which smells of stale alcohol and tobacco. Jamie doesn't seem to react to it at all, maybe he's used to it.

"Brother's asleep," he explains while shutting the door to his room.

I sit on the spare bed again, crossing my legs as usual. "It's okay,"

Jamie goes into his cupboard with his "stash" and takes out a cigarette. After he takes a drag or two it doesn't surprise me as to why the caravan smells like it does.

"Sorry, do you mind?" he asks in a polite way that, I expect, was put on.

"No, it's fine,"

Admittedly, I don't mind the smell of cigarette smoke. If anything, I actually quite like it. It's a little uncomfortable in a room as small as his, if I'm being honest, but out in the fresh air it's not too bad.

I don't talk to Jamie as he smokes, and he doesn't talk to me. This makes us both feel a little uneasy, but still nobody says anything. I find talking to Jamie quite a bit of effort but he always keeps conversation interesting.

"What shall we do today?" I ask, finally breaking the silence.

He shrugs, "I don't know,"

"I guess we're stuck then,"

"Unless..."

"Unless?"

"You'll see,"

"When?" I inquire, growing impatient.

"Later, later," he replies waving his hand in the air.

"Oh my God, you're so annoying!"

"Piss off then,"

"Considering you're the one who stalks me - no."

Jamie flashes me a smile and then stands up. He holds a hand out to me. As I take it and he pulls me up he says, "Let's go,"

 ~*~

Jamie and I sit on the swings in one of the parks. It's the more quiet one, too distant from the centre of the campsite for children to wonder off to. There are a few Dutch kids running up the slide and sliding back down it repeatedly.

"Here," Jamie says as he hands me over his bottle of Pepsi.

I take a swing, but can't help but notice it tastes quite different.

"This tastes weird," I tell him.

"It's just because it's been sitting in the sun for a while."

"Where did you get it?" I ask, taking another drink.