Camping with the Johnsons PT1

In the summer of 1998, I had the camping trip that would change my life.

I jumped out of bed and crept downstairs, while still adjusting my glossy brown eyes to the brighter hallway.

“Mornin’, Noah.” mumbled Dad, who also had just rolled out of bed. “Are you ready for the big day? The Johnson’s are on there way over, and in just a few hours we’ll hit the road for camp.” I cursed in my head, remembering that we were going camping today. I still hadn’t packed yet and we were leaving in about 3 hours to go camping on Finigan Lake.

“I still have to pack, I’ll be down in a bit.” I said, and I headed back to my room to pack up my clothes. Turning into my room, I flipped on the light and pulled out an old red and black duffel bag from the closet. It was worn down and had a few broken zippers. I groggily grabbed the needed clothes for the weekend campout. I went through an imaginary checklist, a few pairs of underwear, a few pairs of socks, and a couple each of jeans and t-shirts.
The doorbell rang. My father called me down to greet the Johnson’s at the door, although I wasn’t too excited to see them. The Johnson family had been a family friend for years, even since before I was born. They had a daughter, my age, named Clara. Clara was always very timid, for reasons that were never revealed to me. The most that I had said was a kind, “Hello.”

It was 1:32 in the afternoon and the car was bumping down the road. The car had been silent for what felt like forever. Clara sat next to me, but had her nose in a book the entire time. I couldn’t help but notice that she kept looking over at me, and darting back to her book when I had gazed over. I kept a long playlist of music going on my phone, and hadn’t taken my earbuds out for the extent of the car ride.

We arrived somewhere around 2:30 although I had lost track of time. I preffered a tent to myself, so I set up my own tent away from the others. I had all my things spread out among the tent, including my sleeping bag on the very middle and my backpack and duffel bag along the sides of me.

“Noah?” I turned around at the timid female voice coming from behind me.

“Who is it?” I responded.

“It’s Clara.” she said, with a bit more confidence. “My parents don’t have any room in their tent, they’re inexpereinced campers and bought a tent that is too small for our family. Your dad said you had room. Can I stay in your tent?”

My pulse started pounding. I was both angry and nervous. I was excited to stay up in my tent on my own, and the thought of another person bothered me. No one had ever stayed with me in my tent, let alone a girl, that I didn’t know.

“Sure? I guess?” I responded. And I heard her footsteps away as she went to gather her materials.

A few minutes later she knocked on the door of the tent, which came out as a ruffle of canvas on itself. Clara came in as I was moving my gear to one side, as I would have to share my tent space with her. “Sorry to bother you.” she said.

“It’s no problem. Make yourself at home.” I noticed that Clara was wearing a loose fitted t-shirt that hung low from her chest as she crawled through the door. I couldn’t help but to stare down her shirt and admire the small humps that hid within her bra. Clara met my gaze when I looked up and quickly looked away. She awkardly unpacked her gear with her back to me.

Clara layed down and started reading her book again, across from me in the tent.