Somehow the lantern was still working, laying on its side, and when we stopped to look at each other, we both burst out laughing at the absurdity of i... all. The circulation had pretty much returned to my legs by then, and we finished our trek to the house hand in hand. By the time we got to the back porch, we were both shivering with the cold, and I realized we couldn’t waste any time with indecision about protocol. “Don’t worry about the floor,” I shouted over the din of the rain on the porch. Of course, I exaggerated how cold I was, and I scooted closer to Martin, pretending to shiver. None of them thought to offer me any spare clothes to wear. Instead, Martin just said, "Don't worry. Your clothes will be dry soon enough." "They're barely drying," I said. "And they smell like mud now." "That's camping." Every couple of minutes, I mentioned something about feeling cold or my clothes not drying. I think I was hoping one of them would jokingly suggest I take my wet clothes off and let. More

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