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Authors: Daphne Lamb
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me.
I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“You’re thinking about going there, aren’t you?” Robert asked.
I turned around and saw that he looked genuinely concerned.
“I’m sure it doesn’t matter,” he said. “What matters is that Iris is okay and that we continue to look out for each other.”
“Priscilla,” I said.
“Priscilla,” he said. “Her too.”
He was thoughtful for a moment.
“Promise me something,” he said sternly.
I stared at him, inwardly refusing to move my head in agreement to whatever it was he was about to say.
“Don’t go down there,” he said. “At least not by yourself.”
He turned around and left.
Bruce entered, still holding the can of soup. “This is disgusting,” he said. “I would kill for some beef with broccoli at that place we used to go to. You know the one? By your house?”
I shook my head and smiled, thinking about what it’d be like to be in a house full of different people. I tried to imagine my parents huddled by the fire, singing songs and grateful for the clam chowder that was in front of them.
I waited the entire day, long into the night, before I left the house again. I bundled up as best as I could and made sure everyone was fast asleep before quietly shutting the door behind me. I said a quick prayer under my breath and tried to follow Priscilla’s vague directions.
I tripped several times and felt an eerie chill, but pressed on until I could see lights—fire lights down below followed by human voices that sounded actually happy. When I was able to get a clear view, I saw everything just as Priscilla described it—a few RVs on the sand. There were people going in and out, and I smelled a hot meal cooking over flames. My stomach rolled over and begged me for it, but I stood still, taking in as much as I could.
A blond-haired man came out of the middle RV, holding a guitar and stood at attention in the center of the campsite.
“Hey, everyone!” he shouted. “Who’s up for singing a few songs before we say goodnight?”
The others clapped and cheered in agreement. He had a nice voice, but there was something familiar about it. I knew I had heard his voice somewhere before.
“It’ll be a few more minutes until dinner’s done,” he said. “Who’s got a request?”
A man raised his hand. “I know we did it last night, but it was so much fun to sing that song about how we’re all fireworks,” he said.
There were a few groans. Someone else raised their hand.
“Let’s sing that song about being stronger,” a young college age woman said. “You know the one. Stronger as a people, or dreaming something. That one.”
There was some scattered applause, and the leader tuned his guitar. Within a few minutes, he had hit a few opening chords and people started to sing. I hummed along, wondering the last time I had sang aloud in a group.
I crawled closer to the action and tried to sit myself down comfortably where I could hear everything. The smell of food was more powerful than ever and my stomach growled incessantly. I had only eaten two pieces of stolen bread, mostly because Debra made fun of Robert and Bruce for it and I wasn’t in the mood. But now I wished I had.
There was a rock poking me in the backside, so I shifted around, only to accidently sit on a branch and break it. That stopped the music and caused everyone to freeze.
“No one panic!” the leader whispered.
I froze too. These people seemed nice and were happily adapting to a simpler time, but here I had disturbed it, setting off whatever anger they’d unleashed at Priscilla. I turned around and made a move to crawl back up the hill when I heard someone shout. My pants were now slipping and I had to pull them up.
“There!” they said. “Someone’s spying on us on the hill!”
Just then, someone shined a light on my backside, perfectly framing my ass crack, which was now exposed from the slipping waist of my jeans. I tried in vain to climb up, but a mild sand
I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“You’re thinking about going there, aren’t you?” Robert asked.
I turned around and saw that he looked genuinely concerned.
“I’m sure it doesn’t matter,” he said. “What matters is that Iris is okay and that we continue to look out for each other.”
“Priscilla,” I said.
“Priscilla,” he said. “Her too.”
He was thoughtful for a moment.
“Promise me something,” he said sternly.
I stared at him, inwardly refusing to move my head in agreement to whatever it was he was about to say.
“Don’t go down there,” he said. “At least not by yourself.”
He turned around and left.
Bruce entered, still holding the can of soup. “This is disgusting,” he said. “I would kill for some beef with broccoli at that place we used to go to. You know the one? By your house?”
I shook my head and smiled, thinking about what it’d be like to be in a house full of different people. I tried to imagine my parents huddled by the fire, singing songs and grateful for the clam chowder that was in front of them.
I waited the entire day, long into the night, before I left the house again. I bundled up as best as I could and made sure everyone was fast asleep before quietly shutting the door behind me. I said a quick prayer under my breath and tried to follow Priscilla’s vague directions.
I tripped several times and felt an eerie chill, but pressed on until I could see lights—fire lights down below followed by human voices that sounded actually happy. When I was able to get a clear view, I saw everything just as Priscilla described it—a few RVs on the sand. There were people going in and out, and I smelled a hot meal cooking over flames. My stomach rolled over and begged me for it, but I stood still, taking in as much as I could.
A blond-haired man came out of the middle RV, holding a guitar and stood at attention in the center of the campsite.
“Hey, everyone!” he shouted. “Who’s up for singing a few songs before we say goodnight?”
The others clapped and cheered in agreement. He had a nice voice, but there was something familiar about it. I knew I had heard his voice somewhere before.
“It’ll be a few more minutes until dinner’s done,” he said. “Who’s got a request?”
A man raised his hand. “I know we did it last night, but it was so much fun to sing that song about how we’re all fireworks,” he said.
There were a few groans. Someone else raised their hand.
“Let’s sing that song about being stronger,” a young college age woman said. “You know the one. Stronger as a people, or dreaming something. That one.”
There was some scattered applause, and the leader tuned his guitar. Within a few minutes, he had hit a few opening chords and people started to sing. I hummed along, wondering the last time I had sang aloud in a group.
I crawled closer to the action and tried to sit myself down comfortably where I could hear everything. The smell of food was more powerful than ever and my stomach growled incessantly. I had only eaten two pieces of stolen bread, mostly because Debra made fun of Robert and Bruce for it and I wasn’t in the mood. But now I wished I had.
There was a rock poking me in the backside, so I shifted around, only to accidently sit on a branch and break it. That stopped the music and caused everyone to freeze.
“No one panic!” the leader whispered.
I froze too. These people seemed nice and were happily adapting to a simpler time, but here I had disturbed it, setting off whatever anger they’d unleashed at Priscilla. I turned around and made a move to crawl back up the hill when I heard someone shout. My pants were now slipping and I had to pull them up.
“There!” they said. “Someone’s spying on us on the hill!”
Just then, someone shined a light on my backside, perfectly framing my ass crack, which was now exposed from the slipping waist of my jeans. I tried in vain to climb up, but a mild sand
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