AFTER OUR GROUP ‘CHAT’, Nathan sent everyone but me from the hut—at which point I knew a roasting was forthcoming.
From a lot of growls, promises to lock me up, a couple of stresses on how stupid he thought I’d acted, he went on to tell me exactly how Sean looked when I told him who I had on my tail—which was a low blow because that part hurt the most.
He mumbled on and on about how, if I hadn’t gone gallivanting again, I wouldn’t have been in trouble in the first place.
I apologised, again and again, over and over, and he ended his almost whispered rant with: ‘If you pull a stunt like this again, I’ll have your a*s in a sling, Jem,’ whatever that meant.
As if the roasting hadn’t been enough, he went and locked me inside the blasted box, and I had to yell if I wanted something. Did I t
