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“Go, go, go, go, go,” Dark says, planting his shoulder in between Chosen’s shoulder blades and shoving him forward. “Let go of the doorframe, Chosen, c’mon.”
“I have in no way agreed to this,” Chosen grunts, tightening his grip on the wooden doorframe. It creaks rather alarmingly, and Purple watches anxiously from the foot of the stairs. “I can’t just leave!”
“It’s only for the weekend,” Dark says, twisting so that his back is to Chosen’s. He toes off his socks, clearly hoping to get better traction on the hardwood floor of the entryway in bare feet. “The last time you went on a vacation was seven years ago, Chosen!”
“I am perfectly fine with that!”
“I’m not,” Dark says. “I’m a full-grown adult now, in case you haven’t noticed, and I will do just fine by myself for two days. Even if I do set something on fire, Mango’s right next door. He’ll put it out!” He pauses, a calculating look crossing his face. “Besides, Purple’s coming with you, right Purple?”
“Um. Apparently?” Purple woke up this morning to a plate of pancakes and the announcement that she was to pack for the weekend. Since Purple didn’t properly wake up until she’d had the chance to snag some coffee – by which point Dark was dragging Chosen out of bed, a pre-packed duffel bag and camping tent already lying in the hallway – she’s still confused.
“You took me on a camping trip when I graduated high school,” Dark says, “which, have I mentioned, was at the very impressive age of sixteen – ”
“You have.” “You literally bring it up every chance you get,” his siblings say.
“Whatever,” Dark says, completely ignoring them. “It’s time to continue the tradition! Also both of you have your birthdays within a month of each other, so this is also my birthday present for you two, you’re welcome, have fun, get out – ”
The doorframe gives with a groan, and Chosen stumbles onto the front porch.
“I’ll fix that,” Dark says, nonchalantly pulling the nastiest of the splinters now sticking out of the doorframe off and sticking it in his pocket. He snags the duffel bag and tent from their spot on the floor, throwing them at Chosen.
He doesn’t throw Purple after the bags, per se, but she is quite enthusiastically pushed out the door with a “Love you, have fun, don’t come back for two days!”
The front door slams shut behind her – the movement somewhat arrested by the damaged doorframe – and they can hear Dark’s triumphant cackle through the peephole.
Chosen looks at Purple. Purple looks at Chosen.
“I guess we’re going camping?” Purple says, holding up her backpack.
Chosen sighs, then shakes his head and laughs. “I guess so.” He picks up the duffel bag and tent, slinging the straps for both bags over one shoulder. “You know any good camping sites?”
“I’m a city girl,” Purple says as they start down the sidewalk. “Born and raised. So, no.”
“Guess I get to pick then. Want to stop at the corner store and grab some snacks?”
“I get to buy those sweet-and-sour fruit things.”
“Deal. Although I’ll never understand why you like those.”
“I’m a sweet-and-sour person.”
“Wait, what does that make me?”
“A coffee bean. One of those chocolate covered ones.”
-
Camping is…an experience. Purple has never encountered so many mosquitoes in her life, and to make things worse, none of the mosquitoes seem to be able to get through Chosen’s skin, so they all flock to her. But other than being sucked dry by bitter, vengeful insects, camping is fun. She and Chosen burn a lot of marshmallows, find a lot of cool leaves for Gold, and even attempt to go wading at the cove.
(Purple gives up on wading after two minutes and ankle-deep water. The ocean is, simply put, absolutely freezing in early March.)
(Chosen stands in water up to his waist, seemingly unaware that he’s wet at all, and laughs at the faces Purple makes.)
They arrive home several leaves heavier and (in Purple’s case) what feels like several pints of blood lighter to find Dark, Gold, and Mango waiting in ambush with a triple-decker cake.
“It kept falling over,” Gold explains, pointing to the three single-layer cakes all crammed together on one baking sheet. “So we had to take it apart. But it’s still a triple decker, you just gotta eat the decks separately.”
“I see,” Purple says, inspecting what appears to be a portrait of her painted in frosting on one of the layers. “Did you draw this, Gold?”
“Yup.” Gold grins, so incredibly proud of himself, and shows her his multicolored fingers. “I got so much frosting on myself.”
“Wow.”
“I did your portrait,” Dark tells Chosen, pointing to one of the other layers. The entire thing is frosted completely black, with two sugar eyes stuck on.
“It looks just like me,” Chosen deadpans, pulling Dark into a headlock as Gold snickers.
Purple and Chosen trade; Chosen eats a slice of Purple’s ponytail, and Purple takes one of Chosen’s eyes. When they finally wake up from the sugar crash, a few hours later, they agree that this was an excellent birthday.