"Pelham!"

Pelham turned from his locker one morning to see his best friend, Roshon, hurrying in his direction. He noticed that Roshon was carrying a stack of papers in one hand while the other one was trying to adjust the strap of his backpack over his shoulder.

"Roshon," he greeted back.

"Met my Biology teacher on my way out of the cafeteria," Roshon told him.

"What, did Mrs Blaise give you a lecture about nutrients again?"

Roshon clicked his tongue impatiently. "Anyway, good news, Pel. Remember after that incident with the students attacking a pair of wild boars three years ago during a school camp and resulted in five of them getting injured?"

"I don't remember any of it. But since you're gonna tell me anyway ... what about it?"

"It was cancelled ever since, right?"

"Right, and?"

"Well, Mr Blaise told me that school camp is back," Roshon simply said.

Pelham's eyes widened and he was quite certain that his eyebrows had gone all the way over his head. He had always wanted to participate in their school's camping trip. Unfortunately, because of those mad (and rather daft) students chasing wild boars and dealing their own, well-deserved consequences, the school camp had been removed from one of their school's outdoor activities ever since then. Still, those who had joined always said that the camping trip was thrilling.

"You're serious, aren't you?" Pelham said, feeling sceptical.

"What are these for, then?" Roshon waved the stack of papers again in front of Pelham.

Pelham quickly grabbed a piece. Before he skimmed it through, he asked, "You're joining, right?"

"That was a daft question,"

Pelham grinned. "I'll take that as a yes," he nodded. He skimmed through the memo and his grin widened all over his face. "Awesome. They're gonna have night games and those who participate will be given certificates - which I need in case I'm applying for scholarships - and sweet lord, this will be a half-day's drive!"

"Half a day?"

"You didn't read this, did you?"

"I don't read. I listen."

"Anyway, it sounds a lot cooler than the last time I heard it," Pelham said mostly to himself. "Are you gonna hand those out to students or are they just for our class?"

"I honestly don't know why Mr Blaise chose me to hand these out, but I feel quite honoured. Anyway, this is for anyone above fifteen only," Roshon explained. "You see, my friend, if I pin this to the noticeboard, nobody'll really pay attention. People basically hate reading. So it's best to shove 'em up their noses."

"Right,"

"Watch," Roshon said. He looked around and started walking, while Pelham tailed behind him. "You!" Roshon said to a boy Pelham had bumped into a few days back. He had been stuffing books inside his bag and was quite startled to have been called by Roshon. "Leondre."

"Lucio." The boy corrected, frowning slightly.

"Right - Lucio. Are you above fifteen?"

"I'm sixteen,"

"That question requires a 'yes' or 'no' answer ... Irrelevant. Anyway. I know you're still kinda new here. But our school used to have this epic one-week camping trip. So here's a memo for it and it begins a week from today."

"Are you in charge?" Lucio asked, his eyes darting to Pelham and back again as though they were sensitive to him.

"No, I'm just handing these out. And I'm good at choosing people. Help me out, will you?" And Roshon divided the memos into two, giving the other half to Lucio. "Make sure they read it or they'll regret ignoring it. People honestly need to read a lot more often."

"Says the person who never opened a book," Pelham added.

"That's a downright lie," Roshon told Lucio.

Lucio took them and skimmed through the page. "All right." he smiled before hurrying off to his class.

Pelham didn't realise he was holding his breath the whole time until Lucio was out of sight. He had never really seen the boy properly up close. The girls who talked about him a lot during in his Psychology class were right; Lucio really was stunning. The last time he ran into him, they had both been in a rush. And he'd thought Lucio was some sort of a shy boy who only mumbled in response when talked to. Well, he was kind of wrong on that part as well. Despite the thick accent that was evident when Lucio spoke, he at least carried a sense of self-reliance around him.

When they entered their first lesson of the day, the camping trip was what everyone could talk about. Clearly they were all looking forwards to it after three years of giving up home. Some wild presumptions were thrown in, like they were actually going out of the country ("Maybe we're going to Asia!"), or camping high up in the mountains. Pelham tried not to get his hopes up too high on the latter, as he had always wanted to climb the mountains. Other rational presumption included them going to an island. Not until they were called for a short briefing in the hall during lunch hour did they find out exactly what they needed to know.

The headmaster stated that it would be a one-week trip, just like it said on the memos, with a maximum of three hundred and fifty students, ranging from the Upper Secondary level to Sixth Form level. Pelham thought it was quite a lot, and might as well include the whole of his batch. The headmaster also noted that they will be staying in small cabins assigned to them later on if they were going to sign up, so there was no need for them to pack their own tents. "Might be a hassle," he said. And the teachers will be the ones to decide who they will be staying with; "For the sake of the students' safety."

"I wonder if they assign girls and boys together," Roshon mused with a cheeky grin during the last period after they'd returned to their classes.

"No chance," Pelham huffed, jotting down a random answer on the paper, having had given up trying to figure the real answer out even after searching through the thick Chemistry textbook.

"Why not? Don't you want to?"

Pelham gave his best friend a dirty look. Roshon merely grinned.

"Only joking, mate,"

"Stop saying 'mate', you American. It doesn't suit you,"

"I am an immigrate and I have been here for almost thirteen years. And in case you haven't noticed, I sound nothing like an American," Roshon said with a such precise English accent. "And 'hydration' is the addition of water, not steam." He added to Pelham's messily scribbled answer on the paper before getting up to hand in his own work.

Fortunately though, for the two best friends, Pelham and Roshon were assigned together for their one-week stay in the cabin after they had signed up later that afternoon, having had shoved other students out of their way as they raced down the hallway to get to the administration room after the ball rang to signal the end of the school day. Students were already lining up by then, all looking enthusiastic like kindergartens going for a trip to the park - lucky the queue hadn't been too long, otherwise they had to wait all the way at the back of the line. By the time they exited, there were at least four hundred students lining up, ranging from the Year Nines to the Year Elevens, the Upper-Sixth students looking quite pleased for being early.

Clearly, they had been looking forwards to the school camp ever since it was cancelled. And clearly, they weren't going to miss the chance this time - who knew whether some deranged students wanted to hunt for more wild boars and get the school to cancel the whole thing again? That might as well bring out the same outcome as it had been over the past few years. All in all, Pelham couldn't blame the students for wanting to participate.

On their way out of the hallway to head to the parking lot, Pelham was relatively surprised to see April heading towards the library with one of her friends. It was odd enough to see her walk into the cafeteria when most of the school were lining up in front of the administration room. He quickly headed in their direction with Roshon tailing behind him.

"Aren't you gonna sign up?" He asked her.

April's friend flushed deep crimson at the sight of him and hid a bashful smile that was tugging at the corners of her lips. Pelham always assumed that she might have a thing for him, like a mild crush. But, like everything else, he paid it no particular heed.

"Nah," April answered airily. "It's too mainstream. Way more mainstream than Drake's latest single."

"Excuse you, girl!" Roshon exclaimed.

"Well, everyone's talking about it. Nobody expected the registration to be today," she said.

"It was a rush, I heard," Pelham nodded. "Besides, the trip is within a week. Registration ends tomorrow. And by the sounds of it, the trip sounds downright smashing. You sure you're not joining?"

"Are you?" She asked.

"I've just signed up," he grinned. April pouted a little.

"Called it," she said. "I guess I won't be seeing you in a week."

"I know,"

"Well, as long as you're happy!" She beamed and pecked him on the lips. "Have a good time, Pel! And don't say 'likewise' to me because I can assure you that this school will still be the same except for the number of students. Imagine the Lower-Secondaries ruling the cafeteria."

"And teachers," Pelham pointed out.

"Hopefully."

Pelham chuckled before he and Roshon headed in the direction of Roshon's car, having had been called by his father that he couldn't pick him up today. He was planning to get all of his school works done before assembling the equipment that he will be needing for the trip when Roshon suggested that they buy snacks first. It was mentioned in the memo that they will be provided with food and drinks, but Roshon still insisted they buy some for their own, stating with a rather level-headed justification that they, as adolescents, will undoubtedly be starved at midnight. And Pelham couldn't help but concur with him.

"Who knows if the whole thing turns out to be like the Hunger Games?" Roshon said.

"The Hunger Games is simply a group of twenty-four teenagers having no control over their id while their superego-"

"Here we go with the psychoanalysis banter-"

"-but if I find you stealing my food-"

"Damn, Pelham," Roshon said. "You shouldn't have mentioned that. You're giving me ideas now."

"You better watch and it will be the Hunger Games,"

Roshon huffed. "Fine."

Soon they ended up buying a crate full of different types of sour-cream-and-onion crisps they randomly picked from the rack of a supermarket, three packets of Maltesers, some chocolate-topped, digestive biscuits and two bags of mint-flavoured sweets. It might be too much to fit into their bags for the whole week. That didn't stop them from adding more snacks, however. They ended up spending an hour running around aisle by aisle, bickering over which snack had the better flavour.

When Pelham asked Roshon where exactly the snacks will fit into if they didn't have any more space in their bags, all his best friend could say was, "They'll end up in our tummies."

Upon returning home, however, Pelham simply had to decide on using his schoolbag to keep all of the snacks in, owing to the fact that he didn't think everything will fit into his duffel bag along with his clothes. The will to do his school assignments had long since chucked into oblivion, he started going down the list at the back of the memo and stuffed in any clothing item that first came to his view into his bag as soon as he opened his wardrobe doors. He knew he should at least fold them neatly, but he was feeling too spirited. Too energetic, in fact, that when he exited his bedroom to head for the laundry room downstairs, he ended up tripping over something on the first landing and went tumbling all the way down the stairs, finally hitting his head at the back of a one-armed couch in the hallway.

He nearly cursed at the top of his lungs, when Oris' head peeked from behind the door that led to the kitchen, followed shortly after by his mother, Jody. She looked reasonably sceptical at the loud crash earlier as she scanned the hallway before finally landing her attention on Pelham, who was sprawled on the floor and clutching at his head.

"Plump!" Oris exclaimed. "On the floor!"

"Pelham, what are you doing-" his mother began.

"Trying to get a role for a double stunt, that's what I'm doing," he said tartly, groaning in pain.

"You all right?"

"Splendid,"

His mother sighed. "You're always doing this,"

"Do what? Fall down the stairs? I know. Quite of a flair I have, don't you think?"

"Apparently so,"

"Not my fault I have such long legs and am still hitting my growth spurt at seventeen, Mum,"

"Take it slow next time, all right?" she shook her head.

"Will do,"

"And why do you have your duffel bag with you?" she asked, then shock registered on her face. "You have not, by any chance, been trying to sneak out, have you?"

"What are you talking about?" Pelham frowned as he stood up and brushed some dust off his clothes. Then he noticed that one strap of his duffel bag had been clinging around his ankle. How it got there, he had no idea. But at least he knew why he fell in the first place. "Oh. It's not what it looks like - I swear."

She folded her arms over her chest and studied her son with narrowed eyes.

"Don't look at me like that, it's scary," said Pelham, picking up the duffel bag from the floor. "Besides, Mum, I'm too smart to sneak out of this house through the front door at daylight."

"But I still have to ask why you have-"

"Right," he nodded, realising that he hadn't told either of his parents about the trip. "Our school is having this trip next week and I have to prepare everything."

And so he told her everything and handed her the memo before she demanded it. It was only then that he realised there was also a permission slip that he had completely neglected, attached at the bottom of the memo - the part where he hadn't bothered reading. How was he going to go without informing either of his parents? He wasn't a terrible son. He couldn't help, though, but to put his palms together in front of his mother and beg that she sign the permission slip.

"Since you've packed about half of your needs," she said, her eyes travelling to his bag, "and since you need to have more outdoor activities ..."

"That last part is irrelevant and quite offensive in my defence. But I'll take that as you permitting your son to leave the house for a week."

"Oh, I don't know about your father."

"Don't worry, Mum, I'm good with words."