The Thing About Samuel

Chapter One - Samuel

Samuel - June 2019

Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
The rest of the air in Samuel's chest then escaped in an 'ahh', as he fell backwards onto the airbed, and his tremoring heart climbed down from playing his eardrums and back into the embrace of his ribs where it rested underneath his palms. But, so did the note.
Four silly words had sent him into this; four little words on a piece of paper he had chanced upon inside his backpack sandwiched between a sixth form welcome pack and his notebook. But, how had it got there?
Samuel lay, breathing in the mix of plasticky tent lining and crisp nature filled air that gently flowed through the tent. As his heart resonated in his chest, and he pressed a cool hand against his forehead, his mind flitted back to the previous day. The day before the camping trip. Had the note been there then?

'Samuel, don't forget the hiking boots I bought for you. They're in your wardrobe,' his Dad's voice called from somewhere beyond his bedroom door.
​'Will do, Dad!'
​Samuel had lined up everything on his bed; the neatly folded boxer shorts sporting various geometric patterns, the balls of socks displaying reverse image Pokémon, and then his t-shirts – some of his own, some hand-me-downs from his dad. Where he had claimed second-hand clothes from his dad, he knew he had inherited his neatness from his mum. Her voice rang through his head as he looked over his belongings laid out on the bed - 'the only place that you're tidy is in the garden!' she would mock his dad.
​Samuel chuckled as he set the notebook, her notebook, on top of the pile of clothes.
​'Here you go, son.' His dad nudged Samuel's bedroom door open and held a recently dusted off sports bag in his direction. 'Use this for anything you can't fit in your backpack.'
​'Thanks, dad.'
​'Have you had a chance to read through that yet?' ​​
​Samuel turned back to face his dad who had nodded to the Saunders Sixth Form welcome booklet sat open on his desk.
​He shook his head. 'Not yet. All I know is my form tutor is an English Teacher.'
​The last year of school had flown by, too fast for Samuel's liking. And at the end of this summer holiday he was due to start Saunders Sixth form to study his A levels – in English, Mathematics, Geography, and Art. The only subject his heart had settled on from the very start was English. It had been his mum's favourite. The other choices had been the result of many evenings sat browsing the prospectus with his dad as Netflix played in the background and they dunked chocolate digestives into mugs of coffee. He lowered himself onto his bed and placed his hand on the notebook atop his clothes.
​'She would have been proud of you, son,' his dad offered.
​Samuel smiled. 'Maybe I'll bring it with me to read over the weekend.'
​'Good idea. I'll see you downstairs in five minutes, okay? We need to head up to the supermarket to grab our share of the food and drink.'
​'Sure.'
​As his dad moved back out into the hallway, Samuel moved over to the desk and half-heartedly flipped through the pages of the prospectus. A nervousness rising in him.
A chance at a new start... a new Samuel.
He scooped up the books and placed them to the back of his bag, followed by the neatly folded t-shirts, boxers, and socks. His eyes flitted over his Nintendo Switch that sat to one side of his desk, but his dad had already warned him that it wouldn't last beyond the initial charge.
No plug sockets in a tent...
Samuel sighed, and instead picked up the pack of Uno cards from his desk and threw them into his backpack, too. He moved over to the wardrobe, slid back the door, and grabbed the box marked 'Trek'. The fifty percent off sticker still shining a bright red from the side.​
As he popped open the lid and peeled back the tissue paper, a waft of new-shoe-scent hit his nostrils before he pulled the hiking boots out of the box and set them down on the floor. Samuel pressed his feet into them, catching a glimpse of himself in the tall mirror that ran along the front of one of the wardrobe doors as he did.
He stood up, taking in the look of the chunky boots that hung from his slender legs. He moved a little imitating a hiking stance and pretending to climb, lifting his legs high and then round, and then back to the floor.
'How do they fit, son?'
'Dad!' Samuel span, quickly dropped the character of 'mountain climber', and felt his cheeks warm. 'Good. They're comfy.'
He laughed. 'Good. Ready to go?'
'Yeah,' Samuel squeaked.
As his dad left the room once more, Samuel looked back to the mirror, his shoulders now high around his neck, and his small face blushing. He shook his head, swapped his hiking boots for his high-top converse, and then left his room...

No note...
The memory of the heat in his cheeks at that moment, brought him back to the tent.
Samuel gulped, his throat painfully dry, and wiped the damp blonde curls from his forehead. Reaching for his water bottle, he allowed several deep glugs to bulge their way down his throat. And he breathed, properly, for the first time in the last five minutes.
He lifted the small scrap of paper, and the four words, above his head. Someone here had done this. Someone knew.
The all too familiar rising thuds of his heart against his seemingly concaved chest wall signaled the initiation of a panic attack as his eyes scanned over the words once more.
The anxiety that they incited tickled his lip, and the palm of his hand. This moment had been playing on his mind for too long. He had been so careful about letting anyone know. He knew that with someone finding out, came the countdown to the world finding out. If he did let someone else know, it was then out of his control.
And now, someone did know. The words seemed to darken on the paper:
I know your secret