The Camping Trip
By Amy Baumhoefner
I take a deep breath and the crisp air fills my lungs. It had taken some cajoling but finally Mel had convinced me into escaping for a weekend camping trip. Now that we are out here I can’t regret it. I haven’t felt this free in months.
‘Where did you say this campsite was at?’ I ask.
Before us lays a fork in the road. Mel glances down at the map, and then up at our two options, ‘It should be up here.’ Mel is always so certain about everything, she’s gotten me into trouble before; but I need her. I don’t know what I’d do without her—probably hide in my room, refusing to face the world. Leaves rustle as a light breeze whispers through the woods; a shiver runs down my spine. I shift my backpack, trying to relieve the pressure of the straps digging into my shoulders.
‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’
‘What do you mean?’ Mel knows what I’m talking about, but I can tell she’d rather not discuss it.
‘We didn’t even tell Jane,’ I point out.
‘She would’ve tried to stop us and I needed a break.’
‘Maybe she should have stopped us.’