Snakes and Ladders

Chapter 24: I Hate Blowhorns

Tatum Beaumont couldn't sleep.

His left foot kept fidgeting in a rhymic tap uncontrollably, as his wide blue eyes stared at the rainfly of the tent.

He kept thinking back to the moment at the beach with Emilia. He remembered how she had shortly distracted him from his scouting, catching him off guard.

He rubbed his cheek.

The girl could pinch.

But afterwards, his paranoia crept right back up, even when he was talking to Arabella, he felt self conscious. He knew they were coming for him. He just didn't know when.

He had screwed up big time, and now he was paying the price.

His throat felt suddenly very dry, Sahara desert dry.

His hand reached towards the ground, grasping his metallic blue water bottle, quickly screwing off the cap and chugging it's leftover contents in a matter of seconds. The aqua reminding him that he was still alive. That he could still perform simple tasks such as in taking liquid to rejuvenate his body, as silly as it sounded it was a great relief.

He heard loud yawns and quiet chatter beginning to surround him, alerting him that everyone was starting to wake up.

It was only a matter of time till-

A blow horn sounded, making him instantaneously clasp his earbuds roughly.

That happened.....

"Alrightttyyyy campers!!!! Up and at em. Breakfast is in fifteen. Don't be late!!!" Mr. Berkshire's voice bellowed out of his equally as insufferable microphone. 

Apparently, Mr. Berkshire was an advocate on living the whole 'camping experience' insert obnoxious horns, pointless card games, boring board games, and daily wilderness hikes, in which Tatum had the pleasure of getting a rash from a run in with poison ivy.

Which was just so much fun.

Throughout the whole thing, he got continuously reminded on why he hadn't attended this field trip since freshman year. It's because the trip was in less than desirable circumstances, had corny stupid things like marching sing along songs, and worst of all to his horror had no proper bathrooms!

This trip was a complete waste of time.

The only reason he came, was to keep an eye on Emilia. Of course it was under strict orders from his late father, nothing more than that.

It's not like he liked her or anything...

"10 minutes campers!!!"

Tatum groaned, face planting himself back onto his pillow.

Telling himself mentally to suck it up and endure this just a little more, he slowly pushed himself off the dirt floor, and stood, brushing off strips of grass sticking from his knees.

He made record time in changing, as he stripped and tossed clothes off him left and right in under a minute.

New khaki white shorts adorned his legs with a pullover green hoodie to contrast, Birkenstock's on his feet.

Groggily, he made his way to the picnic tables, rubbing his eyes in the process.

Five long wooden tables came into view, cross hatched red cloths covering the rough surfaces. Tatum could hear idle insubstantial talk such as the exchanges of good mornings and discussing of nights rest being conversed among the campers as he came closer.

God. He wanted to go back to bed....

He forced himself to keep moving and eventually got to his table, not even attempting to address any of the Five as he plopped himself onto an end of a bench, and returned to his previous face planting position.