Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 30148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
His grin was menacing, all straight, white teeth mocking me.
“But…” I sniffled. “I mean, I’ve camped before, but there were always bathrooms close by. So, you’re telling me I have to pre-dig a hole for…things?”
He took a deep breath. “Yes, you need a pre-dug hole, so you aren’t digging at night. It gets really dark. It’s not like you have to go far into the woods. I’ll put the TP by the small table I brought to set up along with the disposable bags we’ll throw away in the trash bag later. No big. What were you going to do? Just hold it and explode?”
“If I must,” I said a bit too loudly.
He held his hands up. “Everyone pees, Hazel.”
“Well, I mean, I know that.”
“So?” He shrugged. “Grab the damn shovel.”
“Yes, sir, right away, sir. Gonna just go grab the poo shovel and put it by the food, sounds awesome.” I stomped off and grabbed the shovel from the back of the Jeep. It was a small, black thing, maybe two feet long, and it looked brand-new. I had this sudden horror that I’d been riding in the Jeep with human feces covering metal just waiting to be looked at.
I put it near the campsite then grabbed the small table and started unloading the food. After I was done doing that, I found a few rocks nearby and made a campfire circle by the tent—not too close since we didn’t want to burn down the only shelter we had.
I was actually proud of myself when I finished up. It was already getting pretty dark when I grabbed the firewood and started setting it in the pit.
August came over by me and stared down at my handiwork. “Are you making nature Jenga?”
“Huh?” I looked up. “I read somewhere about making a campfire where you stack it back and forth, then shove the kindling and everything else underneath and blow.”
His smile was full-blown beautiful, reaching his eyes in a way that made me look down to not feel its effects. “Well, you have the blow part right.”
Before I realized what I was saying, I answered, “I blow just fine, thank you.”
“Sure, you do,” he said under his breath. “I’ll grab the rest of our supplies so we can start dinner. You good with hotdogs and chips?”
I nodded, even though he couldn’t fully see me. “Yeah, I’m starving. I’ll grab the small grill from the back. Or are you wanting to cook it on one of the griddles?”
He suddenly clapped a hand over my mouth and pulled me against him. “Don’t move.”
Heart thudding against my chest, I waited for more instructions. Everyone was already in their tents or RVs, and they weren’t that close to our campsite. The rustling didn’t sound like a large animal, but I was still freaked out.
August pulled me closer against his chest and looked around. Slowly, he tugged his phone out of his pocket and turned on the flashlight, pointing it at the woods.
A small squirrel stared up at us as if we were the crazy ones, but behind the squirrel, a raccoon.
“Shhhh,” August whispered in my ear. “I’ll scare it away, but you can’t be too careful. A lot of them have rabies, and our trash attracts them. We’ll have to dig the bathroom closer to camp.”
Lovely.
He got up and grabbed a stick from the firepit, then smacked it against a tree. “Hey.”
The raccoon scurried off into the woods, but the squirrel stood strong. Ah, brave little one, who would likely steal our food later. We should probably keep all the food in the ice chest and put it away at night in the Jeep.
I made a mental note and looked at the shovel beside the table. “No time better than the present.”
August turned around as I saluted him with the shovel. “Where am I digging?”
He grinned. “There.”
He pointed at a tree behind the tent. It was maybe six feet away. “And don’t forget to bury.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “I can’t believe our dads are making us do this.”
“They have their reasons,” August said quietly. “I’ll start dinner.”
Chapter Nine
“Always, and I do mean always, bring a shovel.” —Hazel Titus
August
She was pretty quiet for having to dig a hole to squat over. I almost got worried when she didn’t return for a few minutes, but when she did, she looked like she’d accomplished something. I refused to tell her that she had some dirt on her cheek. I liked the way it dirtied up her pretty skin.
Fixating on her would not make the pain of leaving Mom and Dad go away, nor would it do anything but offer the time I needed for all of us. At least I had Hazel and her many distractions, dirt included.
I smiled down at the ground and rolled the hotdogs around with the tongs. I’d decided to go with the grill since I felt bad about the shovel, and no, I didn’t actually make beans; I just wanted to scare her a bit or maybe get a reaction. These last years, helping Dad take care of Mom, giving everything up, knowing what the end result would be, I’d felt so sad, so numb to everything. Watching her every reaction kind of made me feel alive again.