Chapter Text
“Fuck!”
Dirt streaked across Ralph’s cheek as he hit the ground hard. The sharp sting of gravel bit into his palm, and before he could even sit up, laughter echoed behind him. He groaned. The heat of embarrassment matches the heat from the sun, helping to hide the blush that crept onto Ralph’s face.
A hand reached out to Ralph, offering help. The blonde boy took it, ignoring the laughs that came from his so-called friends.
“Dude, how’d you even trip? There’s, like, nothing there.” One of the boys said - probably Sam or Eric. Ralph was too busy wiping the dirt off of his face to care who.
“Damn. First day out and Ralph has already eaten shit.” That voice, Ralph knew. He didn’t have to look to see Jack smirking like he’d just won something. His jaw tightened.
“Whatever. I tripped on a branch.”
“I don’t see a branch.”
Ralph turned his head to look at Jack angrily. “Just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there, genius. I tripped on a branch. End of story.”
Jack rolled his eyes, and opened his mouth to say more, when somebody else spoke up first.
“Aren’t we there yet?” A whiny voice called. Ralph turned to his side, where Piggy was complaining to their instructor.
“Not yet, Peter,” the instructor, Miss Marlowe, replied sharply. “And you two - Ralph, Jack - stop arguing. The moment’s gone and done with.” That’s not fair, Ralph thinks. Why’d he have to get in trouble, too? He wasn’t even the one that started it. He glances at Jack, who looks back with a smug glint in his eye. Ralph sticks his tongue out in retaliation.
“How much longer, miss? I’ve got asthma, and my auntie said not to walk for too long or I’ll-”
“Sucks to your ass-mar,” Ralph cut Piggy off, giggling.
“We’re almost there, Peter. I promise. You can stop asking now.”
Piggy looked at Ralph with a pained expression, but the blonde only shrugs his shoulders and keeps walking. The trees began to thin out little by little as the group pressed on. That was when the instructor called out to them, just as Ralph’s eyes settled on the clearing just up ahead.
“Alright boys, we’re getting close now. Keep up,” she said sternly, and increased her walking pace.
A collective groan rippled throughout the group, as they increased their own pace to catch up with her. Maurice muttered, “Dude, close better mean in the next five minutes, or else I think my legs are going to fall off.” Sam snickers.
Jack rushes forward, his shoulder tapping Ralph’s lightly - just enough to make a point. Ralph didn’t flinch.
“Keep up, golden boy. You better not slow us down when we set up the tents too,” Jack says smugly, his tone sarcastic. “Or maybe it would be better if you and your fat friend should just watch us choristers set up the tents after all, since we don’t want to be waiting all night.”
“Shut it, Jack.”
Jack took a few steps forward and turned around, walking backwards. He had a shit-eating grin on his face as he playfully raised his hands innocently. “Hey, I’m just saying, you and Fatty over there aren’t exactly the best campers around.”
“Oh? And you are?” Ralph shot back defensively. A flash of annoyance hits him. “And his name isn’t Fatty. It’s Piggy.”
Piggy whips his head around towards the two and frowns. He pushes his glasses up his nose. “Actually, it’s neither. My name is Peter.”
Ralph scoffed, and turned his attention back to Jack, who was still looking at him. For a moment, he considers swinging at him - just once - and pretending it was an accident. His hands curled into fists at his sides.
“It’s cute how you defend him, Ralph. Just peas in a pod, you two are. But it still doesn’t make you fit for sleeping outdoors. I mean, come on! You’re already face-planting, and we haven’t even made it to the campsite yet. What’s next, getting lost in the-”
Before Jack can finish his sentence, he goes down with a crash onto the dirt. The boys burst out into laughter. Ralph felt a brief sense of satisfaction.
“And you were just making fun of me for falling, too!” Ralph laughs harshly, pointing at Jack. The redhead’s face quickly matches the shade of his hair. He swiftly stands up and brushes himself free of any lingering dirt.
“It’s whatever, then,” Jack says curtly.
“Okay guys, we’re here!” Miss Marlowe exclaims, eager to be done with the whining. Maurice sprints forward, shedding his bag as he runs. He plops himself down on a log near an already built campfire.
“Finally! I’m so sick of hiking. I don’t think I ever want to walk again.”
Samneric follows him, chattering as well.
“Me too! I never want to walk after this-”
“God, I’m so tired-”
“When do you think we’ll eat dinner?”
Ralph turns his attention away from the loud boys, and instead focuses on finding his own plot to set up a tent for him and Piggy. He fumbles with his equipment, and realization dawns on him: he has no idea what he’s doing. He grits his teeth and furrows his brow; Ralph refuses to prove Jack right. He calls Piggy over. Maybe he’ll know how to do this, he thinks. He could not have been more wrong.
30 minutes later, Ralph and Piggy have still failed to put up their tent. He stares at the tangled poles and fabric, frustration bubbling up. This was supposed to be simple. Even Samneric could put their tent up - and they were idiots. Ralph looks around, hoping that someone else may be in the same situation he’s in.
There’s not.
So, he begins to look around for Miss Marlowe to ask for help, but she’s nowhere to be found. He scans the campsite, curious as to what the others are up to. Jack and Roger have busied themself with hunting and killing small insects, while the twins and Maurice are caught up in their usual roughhousing antics. Ralph spots Simon sitting quietly on a log, his shoulders relaxed and eyes soft. He pays no attention to the boys around him.
“Hey, Simon, where’s Miss Marlowe?” The blonde asks as he approaches Simon.
“Uhmm,” the younger boy looks around, searching for the instructor, before answering. “I’m not sure. Why?”
“I, uhm, need help setting up my tent,” Ralph admits, cheeks burning with embarrassment.
“Oh! I can help, don’t worry!” Simon smiled shyly, and stood up.
“Thanks, Simon.”
The pair return to Piggy, who has engrossed himself with reading the instructions. He’s muttering to himself, but Ralph can’t quite hear him. Simon kneels down next to Piggy, and reads the instructions from over his shoulder.
“Maybe,” he extends an arm to point out a pole, “this one goes there?”
“It couldn’t, just look!” Piggy snapped, shaking his head. He taps the instructions harshly. “Don’t you think I’ve tried that already? It obviously doesn’t go there, because that one does-”
“Well, I was just making a suggestion-”
Ralph sighs. Even with Simon’s help, they were not going to finish this tent. Ralph squints at the mess of fabric and metal. “Hey, maybe it’s this we’re looking for. The corner piece, right?”
“No, this is the corner piece,” Piggy argues, jabbing at a different rod.
The three of them fumble in silence for a moment. Poles fall. The tent collapses again.
Ralph lets out a groan and runs a hand through his hair. Sweat sticks to his skin. He can hear it now; Jack’s relentless teasing about how he was always right and that Ralph really should have listened to him and that the choristers are the best. Right on cue, the annoying redhead’s voice cut through Ralph’s thoughts like a knife.
“Wow, guys. I can’t tell if this is abstract art, or a poor attempt at putting up a tent. Keep up the great work!” Jack mockingly says, approaching with a smirk.
“Oh, pipe down, Jack,” Ralph huffed. “We’re almost done, and we don’t need your mindless talk in our ears.”
“Are you now? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like your tent is still a mess on the floor.”
“I swear to God Jack, I’m going to-”
Ralph stepped closer to Jack, close enough to grab him. He could feel the heat of anger rising in his chest, and his fists curled. He imagined finally hitting Jack square in the jaw, just once, wiping that stupid smile expression off of his face -
“Ralph! Jack! Break it up!” Miss Marlowe’s voice snapped Ralph back to the present. He froze, his eyes still locked on Jack. “You two have been at each other's throats all day.”
Ralph looked at her pleadingly. “But I didn’t- He started it!”
Miss Marlowe shot back the deadliest look Ralph had ever seen. “I don’t care who started it. If you two are going to behave like children, then you’ll share a tent. Maybe then you’ll learn how to cooperate.”
Ralph blinked. “Wait—what?”
Jack looked horrified. “No way.”
“Yes way,” she snapped. “You clearly need some practice getting along. Piggy, you’ll bunk with Simon and Maurice. Roger, I want you in Samneric’s tent.”
Ralph looked at the ground, cursing under his breath. He kicks absentmindedly at a stray pole. He could already feel the headache coming.
Jack leaned in close, his voice low. “Better not snore, golden boy.”
Ralph gritted his teeth. “Better not talk.”
A beat of silence passes through the group before Maurice speaks up. “I give it one hour before they strangle each other with their sleeping bags.”
Ralph didn’t respond. He just stared at the heap of nylon and poles that was supposed to be his tent.
He was starting to think strangling Jack might be worth the jail time.