Page 76 of What Happened Last Night

When we set up camp that evening, I discovered why my tent was so light. It was, apparently, a child’s tent. Or maybe it was made for a very large dog.

“I didn’t even know they made tents this small,” I admitted when I had it pitched. The rain was starting to come down from the night sky.

Tanner shrugged. “Sorry, man. It’s the only one I had available.”

I climbed in, fully clothed. I had to bend my knees. It was like lying inside a Ziploc bag with water running over it. It sucked.

The next morning, I emerged, damp and unrefreshed, to find Mack standing at the edge of our campsite, proudly pissing into the bushes. “Sleep well?” he asked over his shoulder. His color had finally gone down.

“Do I have to smell your piss while we cook breakfast?” I asked, not bothering to answer the question.

“We’re not cooking breakfast,” Mack replied, zipping up and doing absolutely nothing to clean his hands. “We’re breaking camp and going fishing. Eat only what you catch. Think you can handle that? If not, you can go back.”

It was a stupid challenge, and I made a note not to eat anything any of these guys had touched on this trip, or maybe ever. “It’s fine,” I said.

He’d expected an argument, so he looked mad again, and then he calmed down. He was probably thinking of whatever they were planning.

I didn’t even know the point of all of this by now. It didn’t seem to be about Luna anymore. So I’d pissed them off. So what? Jay wasn’t quite so mad at me, but he also wasn’t backing out of whatever this was.

And neither was I. Call it stubbornness or male stupidity, but I was in this now, and I was still determined to win.

We broke camp and hiked to the fishing spot. I didn’t mind the hiking part. It was calm, like a meditation, and I could admit that it was refreshing to be without my phone. If I ignored the dampness—in my shoes, my clothes, my balls—it was actually pleasant. I pulled ahead to walk next to Jay, who pointed out plants and trees and talked about his life as a hiking guide. Mack and Tanner were silent behind us.

The fishing gear was stored in a small shed on the riverbank, which Jay unlocked with a key. A boat was docked, waiting for us. “You know how to clean a fish, genius?” Tanner asked.

Of course I didn’t. “I’ll figure it out,” I replied.

He snorted.

I took a fishing rod from Jay before someone could sort them to give me the shittiest one. I grabbed a carboard container labeled BAIT. “I’ll take this. See you guys later.”

As I turned away, Mack said, “But we’re fishing on the boat!”

“You’re fishing on the boat,” I corrected him. “I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want.” I’d find somewhere to fish from shore, somewhere they couldn’t push me in. I’d had enough of these assholes.

“It’s the rules of guys’ trip!” Tanner called after me.

I gave him the finger as I walked away.

“You won’t catch anything!” he insisted. “You’ll go hungry!”

* * *

Two hours later, I found the three of them next to the docked boat, sitting and talking quietly, our backpacks in a pile. I dropped two fish into the middle of their circle. The fish weren’t big, but they were there.

“Well?” I said.

Silence. All three of them looked at me.

“Do we eat now?” I prompted them.

The silence drew out.

“I only caught two,” I persisted, calling their bluff. “But I’m sure if we add those to all of the fish you three caught, we’ll have plenty. Who’s going to start cleaning? Who’s going to start a campfire?” I looked around. “Tanner? Mack? You’re experts, right? Let’s get this going. You guys eat what you catch all the time. Jay? Give me a knife and I’ll clean this fish. I’m ready. Where’s your catch?”

Jay dropped his head into his hands. “Oh, man,” he groaned. He reached into his backpack, took something out, and tossed it at me. I caught it. It was a turkey sandwich wrapped in cellophane. A bottle of water followed. I caught that, too.

“Thanks,” I said.

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