The Wet Tent

The woods were very green and very wet. It was spring. The trees had new leaves that looked like small, bright hands. Shawn stood in the middle of a flat patch of dirt. He held a bag that was empty. He shook it. Nothing fell out. There were no metal sticks to hold the tent up. The tent was just a big pile of green skin on the ground. It looked like a giant leaf that had died. Shawn looked at Vera. He looked at Bram. He did not want to say he lost the poles. He wanted to be the boss. He had watched three movies on his phone about how to live in the woods. He thought he was a king of the dirt.

"The structure refuses to stand because your thoughts are too heavy," Shawn said. He used a big voice. It sounded like he was in a play. "Your bad moods have pushed the poles into another place. We must find peace to make the tent rise."

Vera looked at her shoes. They were white. They had cost a lot of money. They were meant for walking on nice paths, not in this sticky brown stuff. She felt a tickle of anger in her chest. It felt like a tiny bird was trapped in her ribs. "You dropped them in the creek, Shawn," she said. "I saw the metal splash. You were trying to use them like a spear to catch a fish that was not there. My feet are cold. I want to go home to my bed."

Bram did not say anything. He was looking at his pocket. There was a small light coming from his pocket. It was blue. It was the light of a phone. But there was no signal here. The sky was getting dark. The clouds looked like big, bruised pieces of fruit. Then, the sky broke. The water did not fall in drops. It fell in sheets. It was loud. It sounded like a thousand drums being hit at once. The ground turned into soup. It was thick and brown and it grabbed at their feet.

"My boots!" Vera screamed. She stepped into a hole. The brown soup went over the tops of her white shoes. It went inside. It was cold and slimy. She felt like the mud was trying to eat her legs. "These are ruined! They are dead! You said this would be a dream, Shawn! This is a nightmare of dirt!"

Shawn tried to catch the rain in his hands. "The sky is washing away our digital sins!" he shouted. He had to yell over the noise of the water. "Do not mourn the leather! Celebrate the bath!"

"I am not a duck!" Vera yelled back. She was shaking. Her hair was flat and stuck to her face like wet string. "I am a person who likes dry socks!"

They crawled under the green skin of the tent. It was not a house. It was just a wet blanket. They sat on the mud. It was tight inside. Their knees touched. Their elbows bumped. Every time they moved, the noise was like a wet slap. Bram was still quiet. He was huddled in the corner. He had his hands tucked into his stomach. Shawn smelled like old gym clothes. Vera smelled like expensive perfume and wet dog. The air was thick. It was hard to breathe.

Shawn closed his eyes. He thought he looked like a wise man. "We shall sit in the dark and find our true selves," he said. "No screens. No ghosts of the internet. Just the three of us and the heartbeat of the world."

Then, a sound happened. It was a tiny sound. Bloop. It was the sound a phone makes when it starts to charge. Shawn opened one eye. The tent was dark, but there was a glow. It was coming from Bram. Bram had a white box in his lap. It was the power bank. It was the only one they had. It was supposed to be for emergencies. Like if a bear bit them or if they got lost. But Bram had a cord. The cord went from the white box to his phone. The screen was bright. It made Bram’s face look like a ghost.

"You are stealing the light!" Shawn roared. He lunged across the wet fabric. He hit Bram in the chest. It was a messy hit. They both slid in the mud under the tent.

"I need to see my likes!" Bram shouted. His voice was not formal anymore. It was sharp and fast. "I have a post that is doing numbers! I cannot be in the dark while people are talking about me!"

"The battery is for the collective!" Shawn yelled. He grabbed Bram’s wrist. Their skin was slippery with rain and sweat. "You have broken the law of the camp! You are a traitor to the detox!"

Vera joined in. She didn't want the battery, but she wanted to hurt someone because her boots were ruined. She grabbed Shawn’s hair. "Give it to me!" she screamed. "I want to call a car! I want to leave this wet hole!"

They tumbled out from under the green skin. They were in the mud now. It was a pile of legs and arms. Shawn got a mouthful of dirt. It tasted like old pennies. Bram kicked Shawn in the shin. Thwack. It was a solid sound. Shawn groaned. He felt the pain shoot up to his hip. It was hot and stinging. He didn't feel like a king anymore. He felt like a wet bug.

"Remember your post from three years ago?" Bram hissed. He was holding the power bank over his head like a trophy. "The one where you said you were an alpha wolf? Look at you! You are a wet puppy in a puddle!"

Shawn gasped. That post was a secret shame. "And you!" Shawn pointed at Vera. "You posted a picture of your toast and called it a religious experience! You are shallow! You are a puddle!"

"At least I have a house!" Vera screamed. She pushed Shawn back into the soup. "I am going to the highway! I am walking until I see a light that isn't your stupid, lying face!"

They stood up. They did not help each other. Shawn’s face was smeared with black earth. Bram’s shirt was torn. Vera’s boots were no longer white; they were the color of a grave. The rain slowed down to a mean drizzle. The trees dripped on them. No one picked up the tent. No one picked up the bags. They left the green skin in the mud.

They started to walk. The forest was huge and they were small. They walked in a line. Shawn was first, then Bram, then Vera. They did not speak. The only sound was the squelch of their shoes in the muck. Every step felt heavy. Every step felt like a door closing. The air was cold now. The spring flowers were crushed under their feet. Shawn looked at his hands. They were shaking. He had wanted to be a hero, but he was just a man with no poles.

They reached the black road of the highway. The streetlights were tall and yellow. They looked like fake suns. A car drove by. It was fast. It was dry. The three friends stood on the shoulder of the road. They did not look at each other. They stood far apart. The silence was not the good kind. It was the kind of silence that happens after a glass breaks. You can try to glue it, but it will never hold water again.

Shawn reached into his pocket and found a small piece of plastic. It was a cap from a tent pole. He looked at it. He looked at Vera. She was staring at the horizon. Her face was hard like stone. Bram was staring at his phone, but the screen was black. The power bank was gone. It was back there in the mud, buried under the green leaf of the tent.