Rory wasn’t hungry. His stomach was bursting from the pressure of three days not shitting. He watched his classmates drinking hot chocolate and telling tales of their day abseiling across the forest. Sadie sat quietly next to him. Both of them were at the outer edge, too far away to feel the warmth of the fire.
Another wave of pain washed through him. He had to clench his teeth down hard to ensure his bum remained shut.
You okay? Sadie asked.
Rory could feel the stick of shit being forced out. Because of the pressure of the last three days, tears poured out of his eyes.
Are you sick?
Rory shook his head.
And then felt relief as the wave finished. He felt his face burn from the exhaustion of clenching every single muscle in his body.
I’m going to get help, Sadie said.
No, Rory grabbed her arm, preventing her from standing.
He wiped the back of his hand across his eyes.
Can I tell you something?
I haven’t gone to the toilet, you know, since we left.
This was their third night out in the bush with nothing but a spade and acres and acres of space.
All you do is walk out a few hundred metres, dig, squat and you’re done.
Rory knew this. It sounded so simple when she said it. But what if he dug where someone had already been? What was worse were the stories the boys would tell of digging one hole and they all watched as giant brown worms twisted on each other.
Rory would rather die.