UNEDITED
Gemma Alder is used to being the unlucky one in the Alder family: from a nasty rumour about her back in high school to inexplicable mishaps, she seems to be the comical target for unfortunate situations. But if there's one thing she's good...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Jake
It's as if the world has decided it's time for karma to hit me. I wonder if this level of shame, this level of embarrassment is what Gemma felt when she walked through the hallways at school or read the derogatory posts on her Facebook page.
This has got to be the most embarrassing night of my life and I can't decide if it's because I've quickly become best friends with an outhouse in the middle of the forest or if it's because my cooking skills have potentially shifted the other company's view of us. Negatively, of course.
I groan, knocking my head against the weathered wood as I breathe in the fresh air and run my fingers through the dirt, wishing my stomach would cooperate so I could get off my ass and trudge back to the cabin. Hanna is probably worried sick about me. I need to get back and reassure her that I'm fine and probably just suffering from a little bit of food poisoning. I've lost count of how many times my intestines basically cleanse themselves of every fucking morsel.
Once again, I knock my head against the weathered wood, vaguely aware that something is crawling across the nape of my neck. I close my eyes. If it's a spider, I don't care – let it crawl where it wants. I'm too clammy and unsure of myself to move fast, concerned that it will lead to another puke fest. The only things grounding me at the moment are the view of the night sky and billions of stars, and the scent of pacific air. I don't know what time it is, but I'm positive it's well past midnight by now.
All my valid complaints aside, I do have to acknowledge the fact that something good came out of this. I watched Olive projectile vomit all across the linoleum flooring of the dining area, a priceless look of shame and horror on her face. Which is exactly why I'm hoping, praying that she'll realize she's forfeited any chances of getting in my pants. I'm not usually this shallow or incompetent when it comes to judging women. But with Olive's case, I just hope she's too embarrassed of herself, too self-conscious to realize I don't find the fact that she projectile vomited that disgusting. I hope her fear that it has possibly made me think less of her eats away at her promiscuous personality. It's unfair to judge someone based on one embarrassing moment – we all have them and the majority of the time we can't escape them – but I have to. I have to because this situation is far different from any other. Olive's been too confident around me. Far too greedy. If it had been Gemma that had gotten food poisoning and vomited her guts out across the floor, I would have been there to hold her hair back and make sure she was okay. It wouldn't have changed my perception of her in any way at all.
I close my eyes and yawn, deciding I need to brave the walk back to the cabin before the animals decide it's time to scour the campsite for food. The last thing I need is to run into a bear or a cougar. Wouldn't that just make my day?
With wobbly knees, I get to my feet, leaning heftily against the siding of the outhouse. To be honest, I don't know how I made it here without soiling my shorts and boxers. Those stomach cramps I experienced...Fuck. I never want to feel that sick ever again. Maybe I need to become a true vegetarian like Gemma just to ensure it.
