Mark didn't talk to me for almost an hour. He just stared out the window with his earbuds in, ignoring me. Eventually, his mom noticed and asked if everything was okay, and he gave her a sarcastic look like she didn't know anything.
He glanced over at me every once in a while but looked away as soon as I noticed. But, of course, I knew him well enough by now that I knew he was purposely trying to annoy me.
I wondered if he planned on doing this the entire weekend. Usually, he dropped his bad moods after a while, but I still didn't like it.
I still didn't deserve it.
It was lunchtime when we finally got up to the mountains, and we stopped in this little cafe in the village before heading to the cabin. He all squeezed into a booth. I sat next to his mom, and he sat next to his dad, which meant he was forced to sit right across from me.
I was secretly happy he was annoyed.
"How much has Mark told you about the cabin?" his dad asked.
"I don't know," I told him, "Just that it's there, I guess."
"It's a bit primitive," his mom added.
"Primitive?"
Finally, Mark had something to say, "It means you'll have to poop outside."
His dad quickly corrected him, "It's an outhouse."
"It's not that bad," his mom assured me, "the main thing is that it's not a house with heating, so you have to bundle up under blankets at night if it gets cold."
Mark smirked at me, saying in a little-kid voice, "Did you bring your baby pajamas? It'll keep you warm."
I glared at him and didn't answer—but his dad did.
"Okay boys, this has got to stop."
"What's going on with you two?" his mom asked.
Mark rolled his eyes, "We're just joking around."
I could have said something, but I could tell his parents didn't believe him.
But then they looked at me, "What's going on, Charlie?" his mom asked.
I wouldn't have said anything—this was between Mark and me. But I knew his warning stare by now—the one that meant he was about to put me down for something I did. I was so tired of it.
So I turned to his mom, "He likes to push me around, and he doesn't like it when I say no."
"Liar."
"I'M NOT LYING!" I didn't mean to shout in the middle of the restaurant, but I was so frustrated I could barely breathe.
Mark's parents took us out of there in minutes. We left half of our food. I knew without looking at him that Mark would blame it all on me.
Their cabin was just ten minutes from the cafe. I imagined it would be an Abe Lincoln-type log cabin, but it wasn't like that. It was a simple, tiny house, but it was bigger than the one-room cabin I had imagined. It had two rooms instead, plus a separate little outhouse—a shack in the woods.
They unlocked the door and let us in. Everything was covered in sheets. Mark's mom took the sheet off the couch and told us to sit down.
Next to each other.
His dad laid into us right away.
"We don't know what's going on with you boys, but you're not going to ruin the whole weekend. You're good friends, and you'll work it out."
"You—" Mark tried to say something, but his mom cut him off.
"You two are old enough to work it on your own. Go for a hike and figure it out. You've got half the day. Don't come back until you figure it out."
Mark didn't move, so neither did I.
"NOW!" I had never heard Mark's dad shout before, and I never saw Mark flinch, either.
He got up.
I got up, too, and followed him out the door.
I wasn't scared of Mark anymore, but I knew this hike idea was a huge mistake.
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