That smile is going to be wiped away quick

Getting in Trouble, Saturday morning

This time when you wake up, you can tell that the sun is shining brightly outside the tent. But that’s not the only thing that’s different.

First, you notice that your blanket is missing; you’re lying exposed on your thin mat. You quickly sit up and look around – the tent is practically empty. You don’t see your blanket, you can’t find your dress, and Patrick and his sleeping bag are both gone. Aside from your sleeping mat, all that remains are the clothes Patrick changed out of last night before going to sleep.

So you wait. Nice joke, you think to yourself. You try to make yourself laugh at the prank because you don’t want to be mad at Patrick. But in all honesty, it’s a shitty thing to do, and you’re pretty embarrassed that Patrick had the chance to see your tits. Well. You’re not _only _embarrassed, you come to realize. But mostly so. And you want the joke to end.

It doesn’t. The minutes tick by – how many you can’t tell without a watch or phone. And in the silence of the tent, the only thing you can focus on is your need to pee.

Fuck it, you think, and you throw Patrick’s shirt on over your shoulders. He’s bigger than you, thank goodness, but his shirt doesn’t go much farther than the bottom of your ass. You slip his shorts on, and you have to hold on to keep them from falling down. You know you look ridiculous, but what choice do you have?

You slip out of the tent and look around, and your heart catches in your throat.

Patrick is standing in the middle of the campsite, talking quietly with the unusually silent teenagers, who sit on the ground in front of him. As you emerge, he turns to face you, and his face looks sterner than you’ve ever seen.

“Good morning!” you call, not sure why he looks so livid. “Very funny joke, by the way,” you say. “I’ll get my dress back in a sec, but I really gotta pee.” Nothing from them. “So, um, be right back.”

“Don’t move, Vicky,” Patrick says, freezing you to the spot.

“What? Why?” you say, trying again to lighten the mood with a chuckle.

“We have a problem,” he says severely. Not sure what he’s up to, you waddle over to the group, really needing to pee but not wanting to turn your back on your friend.

“What’s the problem?” you ask.

“Vicky, you’re supposed to be a role model to these boys here,” Patrick says. “But you’ve acted disgracefully.”

Your heart is beating inside your chest. What the fuck is he talking about? What is going on here? “What do you mean, Patrick?”

You’re astonished when Patrick quickly slaps you on the mouth. It stings, but more than the pain is the complete shock at his utter transformation. “Don’t you dare address me like that,” Patrick spits as you.

“What? What do you mean? What should I call you?”

He hits you again, harder this time. The surprise and the pain cause you to lose control of yourself, and you turn bright red as the boys howl in laughter. You’ve pissed yourself right in front of them.

“What a disgusting whore,” Patrick says to your continued amazement. He locks eyes with you. “To answer your question, you will address me from now on as Sir. Now, take that filthy thing off.”