Samuel
June 2019
The rain lashed down; thudding and patting hard against the various luminescent domes scattered across the grass in front of Samuel and his dad.
He had gotten off lightly when they had returned from the lake. His dad had found the boating, or rather falling off the boat, incident more amusing than frustrating. After all, they couldn't hike today anyway on account of the weather. Joe's dad, Andy, on the other hand hadn't stopped going on about how long it was going to take for Joe's brand-new Nike Airs to dry out.
'It sounds like someone's holding a huge sheet of plastic up and then firing loads of BB pellets against it,' Joe described, almost shouting over the sound of the rain.
'We're not going anywhere whilst it's like this,' Samuel heard Andy, Joe's dad, comment.
'Guess this is all part of the camping experience,' Samuel's dad chirped in, optimistically.
'Sure,' Andy mumbled. 'Will this thing ever boil for fu-'
'-Here, Andy. Let me do that for you.'
Samuel watched as his dad took hold of the small metallic blue camping stove and pressed and held a button down firmly until it clicked into life with a little flame.
'Looks like the wind had blown the flame out.'
'Perfect weather for water Pokémon,' Billy commented.
Samuel smiled. 'Lotad, too. He's a water grass type after all.'
'And Lombre. Ludicolo. Couldn't you just imagine Poliwag or a Squirtle walking around here.'
'They'd love it,' Samuel smiled, the familiarity of conversations surrounding his favourite topic, Pokémon, warming his insides.
'What are you nerds talking about?' Joe sniped.
'Something far beyond your mental capabilities I feel,' Billy remarked.
Joe thumped Billy quickly in the top of his arm and Samuel saw the flash of pain that Billy was masking in his eyes.
'I hit like a Hitmonchan,' Joe grinned.
Samuel couldn't hide the surprise in his voice. 'You play Pokémon?'
Joe laughed. 'No. I just tried that Pokémon Go thing. Everyone plays that.'
Samuel smiled. It was still Pokémon, he thought to himself. But he wasn't about to challenge Joe for fear of a dead arm – and if he did punch like a Hitmonchan then Samuel didn't think he'd be able to hide the pain as well as Billy had.
The five of them stood, huddled together around the washing up area's large steel washbasins with their stove and camping kettle teetering on one of the draining boards.
'I reckon we'll only get two cups out of this kettle,' Jason joked.
'Why do they make them so bloody small?' Andy grunted, angrily folding his anoraked arms with a rustle.
Jason laughed, and Samuel admired that his dad was ever positive in any situation.
'I'm having the first cup,' Andy added.
'Of course,' Jason smiled.
'What are we going to do all day if it stays like this?' Billy questioned, watching the rain from above slowly form into pools in any cavity deeper than a few centimetres across the campsite.Samuel looked over to the camp shop where a few other campers were gathered around one table in bright blue and red hooded coats. Between them they discussed a map – cleverly protected in a plastic sleeve. Behind them, a few others shielded themselves from the weather underneath the porch of the shop.
'They're mad to go out on a hike in this weather,' Joe remarked.
'Well, if we're staying in then, I think I brought Uno?' Samuel suggested.
'Thought you were going to say Pokémon then, geek,' Joe grinned, almost maliciously, as he bolted on the final word.
'Shame we can't put him inside a Master Ball and leave him in our bag,' Billy joked to Samuel quietly.
Samuel chuckled.
'What did you say?' Joe snapped.
'Nothing. What do you think to Uno?' Samuel covered for Billy to avoid another dead arm.
'Well it beats just standing here in the cold. I'll tell Isla. We will come over to your tent, I think it's bigger than ours,' Joe confidently instructed before running out into the rain and over to a yellow and black tent not too far from the shower block.
'Here you go, Andy,' Jason offered a steaming metallic mug of coffee.
Samuel watched as Andy slurped from the cup and then yelped before spitting it out into the rain.
'That's bloody scalding.'
'Sorry, Andy. There's no real science to these kettles. Doesn't switch itself off, you see. Just whistles.'
'And burns your whole bloody mouth apparently.'
'Want me to add some cold water?' Samuel heard his dad offer.
'No, it's fine. I'll deal with it.'
And with that, he grumpily stormed off towards a large, blocky tent a little further away.
'Gets it from his dad then,' Billy observed.
Samuel and Jason laughed.
'Sorry about not climbing the mountain boys.'
'It's fine,' Samuel and Billy chorused.
'Either of you want a coffee? Billy? Sam?'
Samuel's heart skipped a beat and he lifted his eyes steadily to meet his dad's. In return, his eyes quickly widened and then turned to the miniature kettle to refill it under the basin tap. 'Samuel. Sorry.'
It's fine! Samuel wanted to say, once again. But didn't. He sighed.
'Yes, please, Dad.'
'And me, thank you, Mr. Knight.'
'I've just realised I'm not sure these taps are actually drinking water. I'll go get some from the water bottle tap. Hopefully it won't poison Joe's dad,' he winked, before letting out a trembling laugh then stumbling his way over to one of the brass taps that loomed from a patch of grass besides the wooden shower hut.
'I don't think I've ever heard him call you just Sam,' Billy noted as they both looked back out over the tents.
'Yeah,' Samuel wasn't quite sure what to say. 'He's done it twice on this trip. It looks like it scares him.'
'Why would that be?' Billy whispered.
Samuel creased his brow. 'My mum.'
'Oh, I'm sorry.'
Samuel heard the crinkling of Billy's coat as he moved his hand to clasp his shoulder in a comforting squeeze.
'Thanks, Billy. It's fine. I just wish it didn't bother Dad so much.'
'Have you tried to mention it to him?'
Samuel shook his head. 'Part of me worries it would make him too upset. It's something my mum was always quite strict about. Dad once told me she considered finding a name for me that could definitely not be shortened by anyone. But then dad and the nurse who helped my mum give birth convinced her that pretty much any name can be shortened to something. So, in the end, she stuck with Samuel and then just ensured my dad always referred to me as my full name. And I guess it just stuck. Just as she wanted.'
'Oh...' Billy fell quiet for a second, then turned his head to face Samuel. Samuel stared back at him, bemused. 'Sam. Sam.' He laughed.
'What?' Samuel reiterated the giggles. Billy was definitely a little odd at times, but it always kept Samuel entertained.
'So, you would reply to it?'
'Of course. I mean, you're staring right at me. What option do I have?'
'Do you like it?'
'I guess. Samuel has always felt like I'm being told off.'
'Do you want me to call you just Sam?' Billy asked, almost excited, as though he was giving Samuel a new name.
'Erm...' It made Samuel uncomfortable. If Billy were to start calling him Sam, and then the others caught on and also started to do it, it might upset his dad if he overheard it. Samuel could feel his heart pulsing, his chest tightening, his mouth drying.
'Samuel. Samuel!' Billy's podgy hands pressed around Samuel's cheeks and he pulled him to face him. 'It's fine, I won't. I won't do it.'
Suddenly, the thumping in Samuel's ears subsided and the rain and Billy's voice returned.
'Don't panic about it.' Billy's hands moved to Samuel's shoulders.
Samuel took in a deep, nature-filled breath and let it expand his chest, and then escape slowly through his lips.
'Thanks, Billy. Sorry.'
'Who's for coffee? I can probably make two cups from one full kettle! You two want first dibs?' Jason offered, kindly.
'Thanks, Dad.' Samuel smiled.
As they returned to their tent, Joe, Isla and Arty were already sat inside. Joe and Isla to one side and Arty as far into the corner away from them as he could get. Samuel and Billy clambered their way in, carefully balancing the camping mugs of coffee.
With five of them in the tent, it instantly felt warm so Samuel made sure he was sat near the door to the tent – and that only the insect deterring netted door was closed so a breeze could move over his neck and through the tent.
The faces of everyone around the tent had a soft, reddish glow from the over sheet.
'Where are the cards, Samuel?' Isla asked.
'Just here.'
Samuel reached somewhere behind him and felt for the zip to his bag. The size of the tent and the amount of people in it didn't allow for Samuel to turn around fully to peek into his bag. He focussed on identifying everything with his hand. Boxers. Socks. A crumple of paper. His heart wrenched and nerves ran from his fingertip, shivered up his arm, and warmed his cheeks. And then he felt the plasticky box of the Uno cards. He pulled it out and handed it to Isla.
'Let's do this then.' Joe clapped his hands.
'Everyone understand how to play?' Isla asked as she unsheathed the pack of cards from the Uno box.
Everyone nodded. 'You sure, Joe? It's quite a complex game?' She jibed with a wink in his direction. It was met with a steely gaze. Samuel and Billy laughed, and even Arty seemed to crack a very, very, slight smile.
'How many rounds do I need to win to have officially kicked your butts?' Joe confidently questioned the group.
They exchanged glances, and then looked to outside where beyond the netted doorway the thick streaks of grey rainwater continued to flow.
'Let's just keep a tally until the parents grab us to go somewhere,' Isla offered, and everyone nodded. 'I'll keep score on this bit of paper.'
Samuel looked at Isla bemused. He hadn't removed his mum's notebook from his bag, and it was hidden beneath his jumper so not easily visible. And then, as Isla's hand moved back past him, he saw that it was in fact a scrunched-up piece of paper with inky letters just visible between the creases:
I know your secret.
...and now everybody might. Suddenly, the air was hard to breathe in. Everyone would know that Samuel had a secret. The breeze from outside was disappearing, and heat replaced its cool brush strokes against his face. The questions would start flowing.
What's your secret? Is it that you like Pokémon? Or is it that you like...?
Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. The group laughing. Joe clapping his hands in determination. Arty moving his headphones to his neck. Billy patting Samuel on the back. And Isla, unfolding the note. Her eyes tracing the shape of the words as the ink started to connect up like a webbed dot-to-dot.
Maybe he could pass it off as some trivial secret. Like that he didn't like how fizzy or bitter beer was, or that he hadn't ever kissed a girl...
On the other hand, if everyone did see the note, might this be Samuel's chance to understand who from this group might have authored the note in the first place? They might be sat right here in this tent. The one that knew.
This was all actually happening. The ticking time bomb that came with someone knowing the actual secret was about to be ignited at the fuse. The short fuse that would go from him having a little secret and nobody knowing, to everybody knowing.
Kaboom!
Samuel could feel his chest tightening, his forehead warming, and droplets forming along his brow. If he could stay calm, perhaps this was his opportunity to identify who authored the note by judging their reactions. But no, panic overpowered the sensibility.
Billy's face turned to concern, and Samuel could see his lips moving but all Samuel could hear was the deep, rhythmic thumping in his ear drums. His eyes flashed to outside. The storm would be cool. Isla unfurled the note fully and Samuel saw her lips mouth the words. And then they looked to him in puzzlement.
Samuel sloppily handed his coffee cup to Billy and could just feel a few streaks of warmth running down his hand where it had flowed over the rim of the cup. He clumsily grabbed for the tent zipper and yanked it back.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
His throat became dry, his face burned, and his breathing was now at a second at a time. In.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Samuel pushed his way out, not taking care nor time to spin and place his feet out first. His hands pressed into puddles of slushy mud, but he didn't care. Splodges of cool rain sploshed over his head and rang around his curls. Each drop, a tiny chink in the heated armour that was his scalp.
He pushed further out feeling his knees dampen in the same mud puddles and then clambered to his feet at the start of a run.
Now free of the tent, he walked at pace forward, and forward, and forward. His arms, torso, hair, and legs were all now sodden, and Samuel rested behind a tree. He closed his eyes and counted. His breaths started to slow. The heat gave way to the chilly storm air. And saliva started to form in his cheeks again. He pulled at his neck and felt the familiar rising plumes of warm air move from his chest and the rain drops streak down instead. He dropped to the ground.
A tremble shook his chest and moved to his lips. His eyes opened, but creased, and drops started to form in the corners. Tucking his knees up to his chest, Samuel let his head, now feebly supported by his tiring neck, drop onto his crossed forearms. Air pushed its way up from his chest in deep, slow, sobs.
The thuds in his ears silenced, and all that could be heard were the swoops of the wind, and the breaking of rain against the leaves above. Samuel sniffled, and lifted his head to look out.
The campsite was peaceful, even in the storm. In the distance, between the thick trunks of the tall trees, Samuel could see clouds shaping themselves around the peaks of the mountains. What he would give right now to be at the summit of one of those peaks – miles away from the tent, and the worry, and the note...
'Samuel?'
He turned and met the dark hazelnut eyes of Isla.
'You okay?' she asked, genuinely concerned.
Samuel stared at her, but no words would come to his mouth. His eyes instead fell to her hand where the note still sat, pinched into her palm.
'They're all worried about you,' Isla said. 'Even Arty.'
Samuel sniffled out a half-laugh.
Isla smiled, and lowered herself to sit beside him – so close that Samuel felt her bum shuffle its way down his side to rest on the ground immediately next to him.
'What happened back there?'
Samuel shook his head. How much should he say? How much did he want to say?
'It's fine if you don't want to tell me. Did... did you write the note?' Isla added, quickly, almost as though she could read his mind. Samuel shook his head.
'You know, whatever it is, if you need to chat about it, then you can talk to me. I'm not a judge-y kind of person.'
As Samuel turned to look at her, he noticed that she just stared ahead, calmly. Something about her very relaxed nature seem to flow through the air and tingle down his own spine. He was starting to relax.
'Thanks,' Samuel replied.
'And, just so you know, it wasn't me.'
Samuel nodded again.
'That's one less person to worry about, I guess.'
She placed a hand on his and turned to face him, her deep brown eyes warming the grey of the rain around them. The freckles around her face lifted as an empathetic smile rose her cheeks.
'You coming back in? We can't let Joe win, you know? He's already cocky enough as it is!' she laughed.
'Definitely. Just give me a minute.'
'Sure. And don't worry about what they're thinking when you join us back in there. They were all genuinely worried, so whoever wrote that note, Samuel, I don't think they're in that tent with us.' With a gentle squeeze of his hand, Isla hopped back to her feet and Samuel listened as the squelching of the ground quietened as she moved away.
Samuel moved his eyes forward, to the sweeping branches as they rode the wind. Isla's words stuck in his head for a minute, rattling around in a disconcerting flurry of realisation.
'...whoever wrote that note, Samuel, I don't think they're in that tent with us...'
Samuel let out a long, slow breath in an attempt to stop the words ricocheting around his chest. He wiped his eyes and sniffled away the rest of the tears from his nose.
Could Isla be right? Could it possibly be one of the adults that knows his secret? It didn't make sense that they would leave him a note to let him know that they knew. But then again, it was weird that one of the four people in the tent playing Uno with him would take an interest. And then, another realisation. If it was one of the adults, it could also be his dad... was his dad trying to let him know that he knew Samuel's secret?
He rested his head back against the bark of the tree and felt it gently scratch his head. Maybe he should tell Isla his secret... Maybe she could help him figure all this out. At least now, he had one name he could cross off in his notebook. There was one person for sure who would not have written that note. Isla.