"What now?" asked Greg. He looked almost as full as me, after stuffing ourselves with marshmallows.
"I dunno." I said. "Molly? John?"
"We could go into the forest, I suppose." said John.
"I thought we weren't allowed to leave camp except to go to the shop!" said Molly, looking at John.
"Since when did that stop us from doing stuff?" he said. Molly shrugged.
"I'm happy to go." said Greg. I nodded. We stood up, leaving the marshmallows, the tent, the safety, unaware of why we weren't allowed to go into the woods, especially after dark...
"I think we're lost." I said, after four hours of trawling through trees and forest growth, wanting marshmallows and the relative warmth of our tent.
"You don't say?" said John, who was looking and probably feeling miserable. It was pitch dark, being the middle of winter. It was also freezing cold and raining, the water falling in icy sheets, and I was more glad than usual to have my scarf with me, but I wished my coat was waterproof. It could be worse. It could be hail instead of rain.
"This was all your idea, John." said Greg grumpily. He hadn't brought any food with him, which was bad for the rest of us, because he wouldn't shut up about the lack of food, the cold, the dark, the rain. We eventually took shelter under a tree, sitting on the grass underneath it. Molly hugged me for warmth. None of us talked, feeling too miserable, cold, tired and exhausted to do anything but breathe. There was a deadly silence in the woods; all I could hear was the sound of rain hitting the floor and mine and Molly's breathing; well, until I heard something else. Something all together more sinister and terrifying than rain. A howl.
The four of us jumped up and ran in the opposite direction of the wolf, dog, hound. I sprinted along the muddy bank, tripping more times than I could count and slipping at every footstep, my trainers squeaking and sliding in the mud. We eventually found our way back to camp, soaked and covered in the wet soil. I tried to convince myself that I had over reacted- after all I only heard a howl, really more of a bark, I didn't actually see anything.
I went to the toilets and changed into pajamas, wrapping my duffle coat tightly around me on the way back to the tent. Everyone else had gone to sleep except for us four; it was well past midnight, and everyone was tired. I slid into my sleeping bag, cocooning it around myself to retain the warmth, eventually falling asleep next to Molly.
I woke up the next morning very cold and sore. Molly was curled up against me, still asleep. John was on the other side of me, his toes next to my head, and Greg on the other side of Molly, his toes next to her head. Only Molly and I had slept with our heads together, but then we were boyfriend and girlfriend.
Everyone looks younger when they sleep, I thought. Molly's eyes were closed softly, the end of her nose covered by her sleeping bag. She looked like she could be about eight, not a thirteen year old who had been kidnapped, caught in a bombing and beat up the school bully and his friends, although she was beautiful either way.
I was the only one awake, so I tried to sleep, but I couldn't. I got out of the tent, putting on my coat and scarf for warmth. There was only one other person up- Dimmock. Oh joy of joys.
"Hey, Shirley. D'you have a nice time with your girlfriend?"
"Shut up, Dimmock. You're just jealous."
"Jealous? Of you?" he said, laughing. "Why would I be jealous of you?"
I tried to ignore him.
"Oh, I see. I should be jealous of you because I don't have Molly."
I ignored him, again.
"I should be jealous because I'm not sleeping with her." he taunted, choosing his words carefully. I knew exactly what he was hinting at.
"Shut up, Dimmock, you pug faced imbecile."
He laughed. Not a great insult, I know. I still needed to develop my wit a bit, but it worked, because he left me alone after that. I hated him. I hated him so much.