"Quorra,"

I switch sides, hugging my pillow closer to my head and scrunching up my nose at the disturbance.

"Quorra."

I roll over onto my face, welcoming the warmth of my duvet and pulling it tighter across my body.

Finding solace in the silence as the noise disappears, I slip away once again into a warm cocoon of sleep. A drowsy sensation washes over me and smooths over the creases in my forehead as I slip further and further into the velvety, comforting depths of-

"Quorra," a heavy weight rests on my shoulder.

With a groan, I blindly reach out a hand to stop the source of the voice. It collides with something hard.

"Ow," I mumble.

"That was my collarbone. Quorra, wake up, or we'll miss the coach," the voice I now identify as Slater says, patience withering away like an unwatered flower.

I don't reply, dreading the early start to the morning as I remember that the lake trip is today. Lara successfully coerced my parents into paying for it a week ago, and since then all I've been doing is deliberating whether I even want to go anymore. The whole Martha-May situation is definitely overshadowing my excitement.

"I don't want to go anymore," I decide, my words dampened by the pillow flattened against my face and blocking out any streams of yellow light.

Slater sighs, the sound audible even through all the duvet bundled up around me. His hand now strokes a rhythmic pattern down my back, trying to convince me to get up. I focus on the pleasant sensation, the warmth from his hand seeping in past the covers.

"You've already paid and there are no refunds. Come on, Quorra. It's already six and the coach leaves at 7," he persuades, the bed dipping down as he sits down next to me.

I groan groggily, knowing that there's no way out of this. Despite that, six is still an ungodly hour to be awake. A silence settles between us for a moment, but I shake off the strong desire to fall asleep again and turn over onto my back, ungracefully pushing the tangled hair out of my face and rubbing my eyes.

Slater chuckles, satisfied with his victory as he claps his hand against my leg and gets up, "Okay, get ready and come downstairs to the lobby. I'm going to go down there now and sort out some paperwork. Can I trust that you'll be down there before seven?"

I barely process his words, still drunk with bleariness.

"Yeah," I sigh, sitting up and grabbing the hairband around my wrist to tie my unruly hair back.

I spend the next half an hour last-minute packing, regretting my decision to postpone it with each article of clothing that I haphazardly fold and throw into a bag that I'm only half-sure is mine. Zipping it up and tossing it in the general direction of the door, I stumble into the bathroom and get myself ready for a definitely-eventful and mentally-draining day of... god, I don't want to say it...

Physical activity.

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

"You are literally the biggest drama queen I know," Hannah sighs, sitting elegantly as I drop into my seat and proceed to get in a heated argument with my seat belt.

The coach engine starts with a loud splutter as we start towards our destination.

"And you've been using the word 'literally' a lot lately," I insult bitterly, trying to bring the seat belt around to the other side of my neck, "And it's not my fault that the coach almost left without me. I was out my room at 7, as I should've been.

"Hannah sighs, like an impatient adult disciplining an unreasonable toddler, "Quorra, you were running down the lobby and tripping over your bag at 7."

"The lobby was the meeting place, so I was there. Technicalities," I wave it off and finally manage to unstrangle myself, adjusting my shirt so that it lies underneath the belt.

I press the fruity sweet in my mouth against my tongue, savouring the sugary taste of satisfaction as I think back to how my expertise in coach-chasing and loud yelling stopped the coach from leaving without me. The scene belonged in an epic movie.

Something clatters to the coach floor beside me in the aisle. Realising that the device is my phone, I quickly reach down to grab it, catching Slater's eye from a few rows in front of me. He looks at me, thoroughly amused, as if my great chase was comical.I narrow my eyes in reply and shove my phone back into my pocket as Hannah giggles beside me.

Whipping my head to her, I point an accusing finger, "Don't even start, Hannah. Do you want me to harass you about Lucas?"

That shuts her up for the next few hours.

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

"Okay, everyone, we're here!"

At the muted sound of a professor's voice, I reluctantly tear out my headphones, cutting off one of Tori Kelly's heavenly runs to glance out the window. Instantly, the coach is consumed in chatter.

A huge expanse of water lies before us, cloaked in a navy hue and reflecting light like a mirror. Pondweed and tall strands of grass line the edges of the lake, adding flecks of green to the scenic view. The water lies so still that anyone could easily mistake it for a solid surface, and in combination with the small mountains in the backdrop, all I can muster up is a, "Wow."

We're all filing out moments later, detangling ourselves from our seat belts (or is that just me?) and grabbing our bags from the storage area near the front of the coach. The moment I step out of the vehicle, I'm hit with the distant, low melody of buzzing insects, and instantly take note of the pond skaters dancing across the surface of the water.

"The heck. They didn't say there were gonna be insects," the nasally voice of Martha-May-Not-Have-A-Brain whines like a shot donkey.

I adorn a scowl and turn to the entrance of the coach where she's just stepped out, "Right? Who would've thought that being outside in nature would mean a bunch of bugs? God, it's almost like they live here or something."

The plastic barbie tilts her head at me and narrows her eyes at me in an unkind expression, "Don't test me, Neversea. Watch your back."

I return her glare with ferocity.

"Ladies, is everything fine here?"

I break away from our intense staring contest to meet the observant gaze of Slater. As expected, Martha-Man-Whore-Magnet softens up and smiles an obsequious grin so wide that I worry her pink lipgloss is going to smudge, "Simply terrific, Sir. Catch you round, Quorra."

She leaves with a faker-than-her-own-tits smile and idiotic-looking sway to her hips.

Slater crosses his arms over his chest and gives me a pointed look.

"You don't need to babysit us, Slater. I'm not going to spontaneously burst into a cat fight," I bite out as he leans a hand on my shoulder to guide us towards the main campsite where the other 29 students have already settled.

"I don't know about that anymore. Just stay away from each other," he emphasises, turning to walk away towards the other professors, "Oh, and one more thing."

I set down my bag, looking up at him.

"It's Sir, not Slater, while we're here. I'll see you later, Miss Neversea," he says firmly, casting me a look over his shoulder before walking away.

I roll my eyes, unzipping my bag at his antics. Is he seriously worried about what Martha thinks? She's practically irrelevant. I'm sure nothing is going to happen on this trip - except that I'm probably going to need anti-itch cream by the time I leave this place.

"Ouch," I mutter, rubbing my forearm where I feel a mosquito bite start to form.

Spotting Hannah walking towards me without a hair out of place (seriously, how is she always so composed?), I break out in a smile and stand up to greet her. She sets down her polka dotted bag beside mine.

Sighing in satisfaction, she sweeps her gaze across the broad scene, "Isn't it gorgeous? And we have a good three nights and four days here. I could get used to this!"

I can't help but return her contagious smile, washing away the dread that lingers in the back of my mind as I soak in the serenity of the outdoors, "Me too."

Hannah claps her hands together suddenly, bright eyes turning to me, "Let's set up our tent."

"Sure," I agree, and we head towards the professors to collect one of the many tents they are hauling out of the storage section in the side of the coach.

Little did we know that we were signing ourselves up for two and a half hours of complete and utter confusion. And I thought seatbelts were uncooperative?

I turn the tent over for the umpteenth time, "Wait, but I thought this was the front."

"No," Hannah reiterates for the umpteenth time, "That's the back. The front is the other side," she turns the waterproof fabric over, "see? It has the entrance on it."

"I don't get it," I say for the umpteenth time.

"I know you don't," she sighs for the umpteenth time.

"Let's just go ask one of the others for help," Hannah suggests, getting up and wincing at the pain in her knees from kneeling for too long, "Most of them have theirs up."

I stand up to join her, frowning down at the mass of material lying at our feet, and then looking up at the others' tents, "if you count one as 'most', then yes. Keep in mind that that one tent is Martha's because she made one of the professors do it."

I instantly recoil in distaste at the sour taste of her name on my tongue, but force down the bile in my throat (and retract the knives ripping out of my knuckles) to save myself some embarrassment.

"Well she'll probably still know how to set it up if she watched. All the professors are busy helping others and I don't know about you, but I'm desperate," Hannah admits, and with nothing more than a lift and fall of her shoulders, she marches towards Martha's tent, which settles near the edge of the beautiful lake.

My eyes widen as I hurry after her, not keen on approaching the airhead but not keen on being left with our devilish tent either. I nearly trip over myself as an unannounced dip in the grass catches me off guard, but brush it off and continue towards Hannah with the grace of a one-legged giant.

I was practically made for the outdoors.

"-help with ours?" I catch the last few words of Hannah's sentence, settling at her side and recomposing myself as if jogging a few metres didn't exhaust me.

Martha bursts out in laughter, as if offended by my very existence on the same patch of ground as her, "Oh, honey. Honey, no. Not while you're staying with that... toilet water."

I lift my eyebrows at the new insult, "Yeah? Well I'd rather be the toilet water than the scum around the edge."

She gapes at me like a fish out of water, "Bitch! Hannah, there's no way in hell that I'm helping. I'd be willing to forgive you for abandoning the squad-"

I snort loudly.

"-because you're like family and I love you-"

Even Hannah quirks an eyebrow in suspicion, very confused.

"-but I'm never going to help you if you're still around her."

The three of us stand in an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds as her words sink in.

"And you called me a drama queen," I mumble under my breath to Hannah.

"Look," Hannah shakes her head, ignoring my comment and looking at Martha purposefully, "I don't know why you're suddenly being so 'nice' to me, but I made the educated and correct decision to leave you guys, and I'm not coming back. I never fit in, and I was only there in the first place because Jesse was, and because I'm her twin, we must do everything together, right?"

I'm slightly surprised at her outburst, but mentally cheer her on anyway, sensing that this confrontation was needed for a long time.

"Wrong," she continues, stunning Martha-May, "So no, I'm not returning to your 'squad'. And don't say you love me if you don't mean it. Thanks for the help with the tent."

With that sarcastic finish, we turn around in synchronisation and walk towards our mass of unintelligible polyester like the badasses that we have never been before. I feel the absolute shock of Martha through her helpless gaze on our backs, and smirk knowingly.

But alas, our satisfaction is short-lived.

The familiar claw-like grip of a hand on my shoulder makes me stumble back, and before I know it, another pair of hands and shoving me so hard that I lose my footing and fall to the ground.

Only it isn't the ground I hit.

It's the water.

●（=｀～'=） ●

I'M BACK, BITCHES!

Exams are bloody over! They ended yesterday! AAAAAH HELL YES. Thanks for all your support, everyone. You were all so patient and it really allowed me to focus on revision without worrying about this story.

I'm back to weekly updates now! I'm going to start revising for my real exams in May/June now, but it'll be more relaxed so updates won't be affected.

Thanks to the following readers for the Martha-May nicknames! Any more ideas?

Martha-May-Have-A-Brain @SilentAssassin6 (modified to Martha-May-Not-Have-A-Brain)

Martha-Man-Chowder-Loving @TirsasInspiration (modified to Martha-Man-Whore-Magnet ahaha)

I look forward to the upcoming chapters! A LOT happens...

Over and out,
Spud 🥔