Fake Tracks

The doors opened. A gush of humidity scurried in as sweat droplets formed on my pale forehead. Ms Churchill yanked on the ramp, extending it. I walked down, my fingers wrapped around the wheelchair's rubber handles. As the wheels touched the dirt, they let out a shriek. "Be careful!" Penny spat, sitting comfortably. Walking into the forest, the sound of 24 pairs of boots squelching, sinking into the thick mud, filled the air. Penny eyed the ground in disgust before lifting her boots off their rests and placing them on her seat.

"I need soda," Penny demanded, clicking her perfect fingers. I swung my old backpack around and rested it on my chest. I unzipped it and grabbed a soda, placing it in her hands. Watching the bubbles rise to the top, I noticed boots moving in front of us. I bit my lip as I watched the class leave. Penny put the bottle down realising what had happened. Her eyes turned into chocolate buttons.

"We are lost, because of you!" she screamed as she stood in front of me, on her own two feet. I could feel the anger rushing through my blood as it reached my hands. I slowly clutched them to form 2 fists. "You can walk?" I yelled, staring into her hazelnut eyes. I slowly unclenched my fists, violence wasn't the answer. "You really thought I was still injured?" Her face scrunching up as she yanked her new boot out of the mud.

"What do we do?" I scowled. Penny replied with a grunt. She began searching through my backpack for her lipgloss. I rolled my eyes, squatting down on the mud. Penny eyed me from head to toe in disgust as she applied a thick layer onto her lips. I looked into the orange skies, clouds hiding the setting sun. I fumbled my fingers in the dirt to calm myself down. It wasn't moist anymore. Then it hit me!

I hauled myself up from the ground, dusting the soil off the back of my jeans. "Follow me!" I ordered. Penny scurried over to her wheelchair and sat down. "I'm not pushing you!" I hollered in annoyance. I started following the dried, fixed tracks Penny's wheelchair had left me. I could feel the night creeping up on us, Penny silently pacing behind me.

Looking up from the track, 'Hawked Forest' was engraved on an old oak tree. Burnt marshmallows and bonfire smoke filled my nostrils. My eyes floated to Penny. She stared back blankly, her blonde curls bouncing as she pushed the wheelchair. Looking around, I saw the fire. "There!" I pointed. I watched a smile grow on Penny's face. She squealed in excitement.

Instantly, 24 pairs of eyes were on us. Each mouth dropping at the sight of Penny pushing her own wheelchair. Ms Churchill turned, her eyebrows knitting together in anger. She offered me a seat, before gesturing Penny into the tent. Biting into the warm, gooey marshmallow, I was delighted that was over.

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