After another hour of biking, we reached the camp ground. The heat was waning but our hunger was waxing. In other words, we were starved. Thankfully, the campsite had a canteen—a wooden cabin which stood in front of the grounds like a guard on duty. We locked up our bikes and walked in.

The canteen was small, and its wooden walls were fuzzy and smelled warm. By the entrance, there were shopping baskets. We took two and filled them with beef jerky and marshmallows, chips and chocolate bars. It was the only thing around. We also bought this kind of space food—a bag of dried dinner to which you add hot water and, like magic, it grows into something barely edible.

We bought food to last a couple days. That was more than enough to get us to Camp Okanagan. And even though we were close, it didn't feel that way. There was too much to do between us and our goal.

As the cashier rung our purchases, as we stuck our hands in our pockets to fish out our fair share, a group of kids walked in. There were three guys and one girl, just like us. But they seemed older by at least a few years. I glanced at the first guy who entered. He was tall and handsome and walked confidently. As soon as he saw me, I turned away. I didn't want to stare.

Another one of them walked straight to the cash, and stood next to me. This one was tall too, but scruffy and thin every which way. His face, his hair, his physique—all scruffy and thin. His scruffy thinness was accentuated by the oversized, knit hoodie he wore. How one wore such an article on the hottest day in human history I couldn't understand.

'Hey, dude,' he said to the cashier. 'Do you have any more of those dried dinners?'

'Just sold the last one,' the cashier said. Unfortunately, I was the buyer.

The dude sighed, bought beef jerky instead, and then left with his friends. I hoped they weren't camping on the same grounds as us. I hoped they were leaving, and that we had the grounds to ourselves. My hopes, alas, were dashed. They were staying where we were staying.

The camp site was smaller than the previous night's—about the size of a baseball diamond. The group of other kids had set up their tent at the near end, close to the entrance. We set up ours at the far end, as far from the entrance, and more importantly them, as possible. As we crossed the grounds, it became clear that their set up was more elaborate than ours. They had coolers of food, air mattresses, musical instruments and several tents. It seemed they planned to stay until winter. Even if not, it was a sign that the campsite was theirs; we were just visiting.

Once we pitched our tent, lay down our sleeping bags and changed clothes, the sun began to set and our stomachs grumbled loudly. We walked to the fire pit to boil water, and turn our dry dinners into a moist feast. There was only one fire pit, right in the middle of the camp grounds, so that is what we used.

We ate our food and kept the fire going. Sure enough, the other kids, like fleas to a lightbulb, came to join us by the fire pit. By that time, we had finished eating our dinners. I was in a better mood to entertain. At least, I thought I was.

The skinny scruffy dude sat right next to me. So close I could smell him. You know when someone's in your space so much you can smell em? It could make Jesus wanna kill. And let me tell you, the dude didn't smell so fresh, either.

He and his friends started making conversation. They were on a bike trip, too. But they weren't hunting treasure. They were just friends who wanted to bike, camp and have a good time. This was the third time they'd done it, and they'd mastered the art—they kept food, alcohol and other choice items at the campsite, and made day trips. Thankfully, they shared. We made burgers over the fire, drank beer, talked and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. One of them had a guitar. He played this fingerpicking music. He didn't even sing. It was real nice. Relaxing. They all seemed pretty cool, besides the stink-bomb sitting next to me.

'Where are you guys from?' The girl asked. She was cute, in a hippie kind of way.

'Kinnard,' Chris said. Matty and Emily were intertwined by the fire. I was listening to the music—the calm, finger-picking music—and watching the flames. I wasn't in much mood to talk. The music was really quite nice.

'Where are you guys from?' Matty returned.

'We're from Vicksville.'

'Oh yeah?' Chris said. 'We just passed through. Nice town. Tons of hay.' Chris looked at me and winked.

'We're gonna smoke a joint,' said the tall, handsome one. 'If you wanna join.'

'Thanks, that'd be nice.' Emily said.

The guy took a small bag of weed and some papers from his pocket, rolled it, twisted it, and lit it in the firepit.

He took a big toke and then passed it to me. I don't really smoke weed. It makes me nervous, paranoid even. But the music, the fire, the time of my life, I don't know, everything I guess, made me want to. And so I did.

I took a small hit. It felt nice. The music hit deeper, like it touched more senses. The fire was more engaging, the licking flames weird and wonderful. I took another toke. Inhaled deeply and passed it on. I tried to hold the smoke in my lungs as long as I could. I felt so alive. This, I thought, was living. Sitting around a fire, on a hot summer day, surrounded by trees, new friends and old, smoking some all-natural goodness. This was exactly the kind of thing Dmitri might do.

I couldn't hold the smoke in my lungs any longer. I started hacking like I had TB. We all had a good laugh.

Once the cough gave way, my frame of mind changed. I could feel my heart beat rise and my heart itself approach my throat. The music was nice, though. As long as I stayed focused on it and the fire, I thought I'd be alright.

'So you guys in University?' asked the stinky man sitting next to me.

'Nah, still in high school,' said Matty,

'Oh shit,' my stinky friend said. 'You guys are young.'

'Are you guys in University?' Ema asked. She had just smoked, and was coughing too.

'We graduated already,' said the girl. 'Well, except for Michael.' She stared at the stink bomb. 'He never went.'

Apparently, the stink bomb also decided not to go to University. And apparently his name was Michael—I guess I forgot to ask.

'What'd you study?' Ema asked.

'Economics,' said the girl.

'No way,' said Ema. 'That's what I'm taking, too. How do you like it?'

They started talking to themselves about the program, what Ema should expect, job opportunities, and on and on. But I wasn't paying much attention. I was thinking about stinky Mike, and his life choices.

I turned to stinky Mike with renewed interest.

'I'm not going to University either,' I said.

'Good,' He said. 'Good for you, man. You don't need that. You don't.'

'Why didn't you go?' I asked.

'I never liked school, man.' he replied.

'Same here,' I said, staring at the fire.

Matty and Chris had joined Ema's conversation with the hippie girl. I was still high, and feeling nervous. I looked over at stinky Mike. His sight disturbed me. His hair. His sweatshirt. His smile. I hated every bit of him. Was I like him? Neither of us liked school. Neither of us were going to university. No, I told myself, I'm not like him. Calm down, I told myself, you're high. Besides, I am different. I'm smart. Was this guy? I'm determined. This guy can't even motivate himself to shower. I'll find my way where he can't.

I turned again to my future self: 'Mike? What'd you do when you finished high school?'

After a few second, he turned to me. 'You say my name, man?'

Boy, was he high.

'Yeah,' I said. 'I'm just curious. What'd you do after high school?'

'Oh,' he said. 'Well uh, I travelled. I travelled around Canada for a year and a half.'

'That's pretty cool,' I said.

'Yeah, man. Travelling was an adventure. Really cool, man. Great adventure.'

I winced every time he said the word 'adventure'. That was my word. Those were my values. It felt like if I found the least fashionable guy in school suddenly wearing the same shirt I liked to wear. It makes you question your fashion sense. Only in this case is was worse. Fashion's worn on the outside. This idiot seemed to be wearing my insides.

'What'd you do after travelling?' I asked.

'I moved back home. I wrote this book about my trip. I'd always wanted to write a book. That's what I'm working on now.'

'You wrote a book?' I said. 'Jesus Christ.'

My heart like it was pumping its tiny self up my throat and into my brain. I could feel it bursting through my temples. Writing was my thing. This guy's writing too? This asshole? Why would anyone care what he has to say? On the other hand, why would anyone care what I have to say?

What is going on, I thought. This shmuck and me, there's no difference. I may feel I'm different. But on what grounds? Maybe he couldn't get into University, even if he wanted to, whereas I had the grades. I just chose not to go. But could I go really go to university? Maybe I could get in, but I may not be able to finish. By the end of my last year of high school, I had barely gone to class, I was so fed up with school.

I looked over the fire to the conversation between Ema and the hipple girl. Everyone was there, but me and Mike. They were all talking and laughing. Keeping it light and fun. It's like we were living on two different planets me and them.

They didn't care about adventure and books and passion. But they're life still seemed so much happier. I always thought I walked around with this secret, like I was living on a deeper level, questioning dogma, seeking truth and meaning. But at what cost, and for what gain? That side of the fire seemed to have it more figured out than me. Seemed to be having more happiness than me. Was I going to spend the rest of my life sitting at the lonely side of the fire? With the stinky Mikes of the world? It certainly seemed that way.

Cool it, I told myself. You're high. Cool. It.