The Dysfunctionals

I spend nearly an hour at my little spot, swatting bugs away and throwing rocks and listening to the plop they make when they break the groggy water’s surface. Somewhere between the thirtieth and thirty-fifth minute, I stop thinking entirely and my senses take over. The aromas of musky moss and rich soil surround me. There is the whisper of cricket wings and the croaks of frogs and the rustle of leaves, like miniature glasses shattering. I’m so still, forgetting about Camp Camp, tied down by the vines that surround me. It’s not until an angry, blue-black pall takes over the sky that I decide to head back.

I’ve only been navigating my way through the narrow trails of the forest for a minute when the clouds decide to cry all over the place. Stupid clouds, I accuse internally, Stop being so emotional. And then the light drizzle grows into a brutal torrent.

The trees, though plentiful, are too scrawny to create a formidable roof above my jacket-less shoulders and hoodless head. The cold water instantly seeps through my thin sweater. The fabric suctions to my skin and chills me to the bone. My jaw begins to throb from being clenched so tightly to stop my teeth from chattering.

Between the shadows and the constant downpour, it’s nearly impossible to decipher the unfamiliar pathway sprawled out in front of me. I cannot pinpoint the landmarks I’d focussed on remembering earlier. Where is the cluster of tree trunks that had spiralled around each other? Where is the pine that has a star etched into its bark? With my arms stretched out, I grasp for outreaching branches as a last resort for guidance. All I can think about is how you’re not supposed to hide beneath a tree when lightning strikes.

And then I begin to think about other things. I hope the others are cooped up in the trailer, waiting patiently for my return. Hopefully they wouldn’t be stupid enough to come searching for me. I picture Finn sitting at the table saying, “Ollie’s a big girl. She can handle herself.” I even imagine Beth and Nathan huddled beneath a wool blanket together on one of the mattresses, but quickly shake the thought away.

Soon, I become so distracted by my own concerns that I don’t notice the roots that are more frequently protruding from the slippery track. Then suddenly the world is coming out from under me and my hands have clawed their way through the soil and my shins are stinging. With a grunt, I heave myself up. I wipe my dirtied hands down my shirt and push the soaked tendrils of hair off my forehead. I continue walking because if I’m going to die, it’s not going to be here.

I can’t hear my breath through the pounding rain, but it feels ragged and shallow in my lungs. I don’t dare to inspect the dirt embedded beneath my fingernails because I do not want to see the translucence of my skin. There is an aching numbness grabbing a hold of my chest and forcing it to remain contracted. Panic blossoms and I’m sure there are tears seeping from my eyes but I can’t tell and damnit.

My boot catches on another tree root. I collapse, sliding across the ground and cutting my knee on possibly the sharpest rock ever found in any forest ever. In fact, it could have very well been a knife. My legs feels shredded. My left shin is sticky and warm but it doesn’t hurt. Not yet, anyway. I revel in the heat that my own spilled blood provides - God, I sound like a melodramatic wounded soldier - and, during a brief loss of sanity, I consider turning back and hunting for that sharp edge so I can bleed more.

I don’t know how long I stay with my cheek pressed to the ground. No more than a couple of minutes but long enough for it to be considered unhealthy. Once I do manage to push myself up, I ignore the building throb in my tight knees. I wipe my hands on my top again, but the new mud is replaced by the old mud.

What’s black and white and red all over? Olivia lost in a forest during a rainstorm.

After that, getting back is a blur. It is a constant transfer of numbness and aching over my skin. I’m breathing hard but the oxygen isn’t getting anywhere. My muscles begin to seize and when I do find an opening that leads to one of the campsite’s roads, I collapse onto my stomach, unable to feel the prickling of gravel into my body. My clothing feels like a second skin, tight and heavy on my frame. The road is sloped. I choose going downhill instead of uphill for obvious reasons. I momentarily contemplate just rolling instead of walking, but my pride has chiselled its way into my brain. I channel it and, paired with my waning adrenaline, it carries me to Camp Camp.

When I notice Pig’s bulbous nose, I want to stop and lean my head against the truck’s hood. I am alive and the last person I see will not be my own reflection in a puddle as I lay defeated in the middle of a pathetic attempt at shrubbery.

Calling it pathetic makes me feel a little better.

“Ollie!” A male voice shouts. If I guessed whose it was I would have a thirty-three percent chance of getting it right but I don’t care at this point. It could be Jay and I’d still be glad. Then I’m being engulfed by a chorus of shouts and I’m flinching against the noise but part of my tension is lost because the yelling means they’re okay.

A pair of arms encircles me. I am tugged against Elliot’s warm chest and I say, “No, you’ll get your shirt dirty and-” but a horrible shudder rips through me and the thought is lost along with my words. He only holds me harder, cooing against my soaked skin. Beth is there, too, detangling my hair and rubbing my back. No one asks me what happened, probably because they can assume, but it makes me feel better nonetheless.

The rain begins to dwindle. My sobs become more forceful, taking over my entire body. When Finn says, “Look at her leg,” it seems like his voice is some coarse, omniscient thing.

Elliot doesn’t step away, but Nathan, who had at some point approached, does and his face drains of colour. He whistles, attempting to seem nonchalant. “Ouch,” He says lightly, “We should probably take her to the hospital. Make sure she’s okay.” I try to remove myself from the clasp of Elliot’s arms so I can inspect it for myself, but when I try, Nathan gently cups my chin and says, “Eyes up, Ollie,” with a goofy grin slung across his face and a concerned glaze over his blue irises.

A weird, detached curiosity has taken over. I am inside my own bubble of shock. I know what’s going on, but when my brain is halfway through registering it, it immediately halts and restarts.

Elliot asks Finn to go find some dry clothes; he does so willingly. It’s decided that Elliot and Nathan will take me, because it’s Elliot’s vehicle and Nathan is the only one has CPR training. “Just in case,” Elliot says. Beth attempts to interject, but Nathan shoots her a toxic glare and her mouth snaps shut.

I haven’t forgotten about Beth or the situation that forced me into the forest in the first place, but it’s not at the forefront of my mind. Her presence at my back has been subtle but significant. Only she knew that having my hair played with calms me down. I don’t want to think about how chapped her fingers are from tangling themselves within my freezing knots. I want to thank her, tell her that I appreciate her, love her, but my throat has constricted and I can’t move my neck.

“I can walk to Pig,” I whisper with weak, raspy conviction. Beth weaves her fingers with mine and trudges along with me. I did not know it was possible to stumble if you’re feet do not leave the ground, but it is. She squeezes my hand after every one of my hitched breaths. I am frozen everywhere except for where she grasps my palm. The boys stand huddled near the trailer behind us, murmuring to each other.

When I meagrely attempt to reach for the door handle, Beth finally speaks. “No, the back seat,” She breathes softly, “You can lay down there.” She holds most my weight as I scramble into the back of Pig. My soaked clothing immediately suctions to the fabric of the seat. “I- We were so worried.” I can count on one hand the times that I’ve heard Beth be this quiet. Beth is never quiet. She stares at me for a few moments as I adjust myself. “Oh, Ollie, you should’ve seen us. Finn was pacing and Nathan wouldn’t stop tapping his fingers against the table and Elliot and I just sat at the window. I think I only blinked twice during the whole time you were gone.”

“I’m scared,” I admit, my voice hoarse and broken. Just the simple statement leaves me takes away my breathe and brings back the tears. Beth’s thumb gently strokes across my knuckles. “I’ll tell you everything when we get back,” I say with effort and then vow to stop talking because it hurts too much. In my own ears, my voice is distant, like I’m talking through a very quiet megaphone.

Beth gives my hand one last pat. “Me, too.”

Then Elliot is behind the wheel and Nathan is taking Beth’s spot and she is backing away and Finn is still muttering something to Elliot. All of the doors close and we pull out of the lot, jerking and bumping along the road I’d wandered down helplessly minutes ago. The only sounds are Pig’s whirring heater and my ragged breathing.

Nathan helps me peel off my clothing and replace it with the dry stuff. He is methodical and assured in his movements, and is also very respectful. He reminds me of a doctor. Just like Beth’s quietness was surprising, Nathan’s seriousness is. I am a robot, doing what he tells me. Lifting my arms when he says I need to. Raising my butt so he can pull up my pants. I think I should be embarrassed, but I can’t find the motivation to muster up the feeling.

When the waistband of the sweatpants grazes my shin, I intake a sharp breath. It is a quiet hiss between my teeth. I still have not looked at the gash. “You’re okay, Ollie,” Elliot says from the front seat, glancing fleetingly at us through the rearview mirror before focussing back on the road.

I don’t respond. Nathan cloaks my shivering body with his own. He wraps his arms around my torso and then we are cocooned in the middle of the backseat. The heated air from the vents glides over my skin, like I’ve somehow become aerodynamic. I am still cold. I am afraid that I will remain cold forever, that’s how deep the freezing rain has settled into my skin.

“You’re going into shock, Ollie. You have to stay conscious,” Nathan says. I nod my head but close my eyes, anyway. “Are you awake?” He asks, jostling me lightly. I nod against his shoulder. He asks again five minutes later, and I nod. Eventually, Elliot joins in on asking, too. They take turns and keep it up the entire way to the hospital.