Max Barkat
Blah. I do not want to go back outside. I want to sleep for fifty hours, and eat jerky. When I see the adults outside, however, I know that isn't going to happen. Donning my still-wet blazer, I trot out of the house to wait for instructions.
The tarp looks like it's covering out bags; my stomach whimpers in hunger at the thought of my mom's homemade jerky. Hopefully we'll be able to access our stuff soon. There are also four tents waiting to be set up, two wooden tables, and two awkward metal shed things - what are those, anyways?
"You all look hungry," Marina says, looking at the sorry group.
"I am." I agree rather loudly. Then I stand, awaiting further instruction.
