At first, Liam had been genuinely excited about the camping trip. The idea of leaving school behind, sleeping outdoors, and spending time with his friends in the wild had thrilled him. He had even smiled at Mr. Harrison's announcement, imagining himself exploring the hills and forests with his group, joking around, and showing off just a little. But that excitement didn't last. The moment he heard about the digital detox, his mood fell flat. No phones, no gadgets, no social media, nothing. The joy that had sparkled in his eyes dimmed instantly.
Adventure or not, it was compulsory for all final year students. There was no way to remove himself from the group. Liam had scowled at the thought, knowing he would have to spend three days away from the world of messages, calls, and constant attention. For someone used to being the center of attention, it felt like punishment.
Meanwhile, the final preparations had been made. A total of sixty-four people would take part in the trip: fifty-two students, five security guards, three drivers, and four teachers. The students were divided into three buses, each carrying roughly the same number of people. Willows Valley lay about 120 miles away from Golden Crest Academy. The journey was long enough for students to think, fidget, or get lost in their own world before arriving at the valley.
Oliver was assigned to Bus 2, which carried eighteen students. It wasn't a big bus, but it wasn't cramped either. The seats were a dull blue with faint stains here and there, the kind that suggested decades of use. He had claimed a window seat in the middle row, putting his backpack on the empty seat beside him like a loyal guard dog. A few students had noticed him at first, glancing curiously, but they quickly lost interest, diving back into chatter, headphones, and gossip. Oliver didn't mind. In fact, he liked it that way. He wanted to be invisible today, and for the first hour, he was.
He buried his nose in his worn copy of a physics textbook, the pages soft and creased from years of reading. He treated it like a shield, a safe space between himself and the noisy chaos around him. His plan for the trip was simple: survive the bus ride, set up a tent alone if possible, complete the stupid wellness tasks, and return to the real world without interacting with the popular crowd—especially Liam. He was relieved that Mr. Harrison had put Liam and his boisterous group in Bus 1. For now, he could relax.
At first, the bus ride was loud and chaotic. Music bled from headphones, students shouted to each other across the aisles, and laughter bounced off the ceiling. The conversation was a mix of anticipation and complaints. Some students were arguing over sleeping arrangements. Others were speculating wildly about the valley's rumored mysteries. A few dared to discuss the creepy tales of the Whispering Willows, joking and shivering as they shared stories about trees that supposedly whispered secrets at night.
An hour in, the scenery began to change. The rolling hills replaced flat farmland. Trees grew taller, the green deeper, almost suffocating in its thickness. The road narrowed and twisted, winding through deep, ancient forest. Some students groaned loudly, complaining about carsickness or the long bus ride. Others pressed their faces to the windows, silent but mesmerized by the view.
Oliver glanced up from his book for the first time in a while. The last bars of cell service were gone. Phones now dead, social media inaccessible. A sudden, almost unnatural silence fell over the bus. The only sounds were the hum of the tyres on the uneven road, the faint creak of the bus frame, and the occasional murmur from a student. The real world was gone.
For the first time all day, Oliver smiled. Just a small, private smile to himself, but it felt like freedom. He pressed his forehead to the cool glass, staring out at the landscape as it shifted. The wilderness seemed older here, untouched, alive in a way that city parks and school fields never were. Trees stretched toward the sky, thick trunks covered in moss, and the soft green of willow leaves brushed the forest floor. The air looked different too—heavier, cooler, carrying the scent of wet earth and pine.
As the bus descended the final hill into the valley, Oliver noticed a narrow, dusty track leading away from the main road. It was almost hidden, overgrown with shrubs, yet it seemed like the only human mark on the vast wilderness around him. The bus slowed, bumping over the uneven path, turning with care. Oliver adjusted his backpack straps, the subtle tension in his stomach tightening. His heart beat faster. They had arrived.
When the bus stopped, it came to a crunching halt on a large, cleared field. Students tumbled out, stretching cramped limbs, blinking against the afternoon sun. The smell was strong—pine, wet earth, and the faint tang of diesel from the bus. Some students groaned and complained about sore legs and stiff backs. Others immediately ran toward the pavilion, a large covered structure in the middle of the field, clearly designated as the base of operations for their stay.
Oliver grabbed his heavy pack, stepping down from the bus. And then, as he scanned the clearing, his stomach sank. Bus 1 and Bus 3 were already there, parked neatly next to the pavilion. A familiar, loud laugh rang across the field. Oliver's heart sank further. It was Liam.
Liam was standing near the pavilion, relaxed and confident, surrounded by a few friends. His phone was tucked into the pocket of his expensive hiking pants, probably allowed by Mr. Harrison as a special favor. He gestured animatedly, talking about the valley, his laughter echoing across the field, carrying the ease of someone completely at home in any environment.
Oliver adjusted the straps of his backpack, lowering his gaze. He had no intention of drawing attention to himself. He kept his head down and followed the instructions to move toward the gear drop-offs, where all students were to leave their equipment. He moved slowly, careful to avoid Liam and his friends. He hoped to set up his tent alone later and keep the three days as private as possible.