Cleaning After Dinner

"This one's trying to make a break for it," Caleb said, grabbing a particularly lively fish and tossing it into the barrel.

"Not on our watch," Leo added, his tone serious despite the smile on his face.

Once the barrel was full, Mr. Rowe and Mr. Grant sealed it with a makeshift lid. "We'll keep them here for now," Mr. Rowe said, tapping the side of the barrel. "In the evening, we can start roasting them. Should be enough to feed everyone."

"You're welcome," Lucas said, flashing a grin.

"Don't let it go to your head, Carter," Mr. Grant muttered, though there was a faint smirk on his face.

As the teachers moved the barrel toward the camp, another raft pulled up to the shore.

The group aboard looked tired and disheveled, their expressions grim.

Lucas recognized a few of them — Mark, Jason, and two other boys from the grade below him.

"How'd it go?" Leo called out as they waded ashore.

"Not great," Mark admitted, holding up their net. Inside were only five fish, each one smaller than any in Lucas's haul.

Jason sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "The fish weren't biting, or we just weren't doing it right. Either way, this is all we got."

"Don't feel bad," Lucas said, though his tone carried a hint of smugness. "We just have a natural talent for this sort of thing."

"Natural talent, my foot," Mark muttered, shaking his head.

Another raft arrived shortly after, this one carrying even less — a measly three fish. The boys aboard looked embarrassed, avoiding eye contact as they dragged their raft onto the sand.

By the time all the rafts had returned, it was clear that Lucas's group had brought in the largest haul by far. The other groups had collectively caught fewer fish than Lucas's raft alone.

"Alright, everyone, don't lose heart," Mr. Rowe said, addressing the students. "It's our first attempt, and it's a learning process. Tomorrow, we'll refine the technique and try again. For now, let's focus on what we do have."

As the crowd dispersed, Lucas leaned over to Leo. "Man, we're the MVPs today. Think they'll give us an extra fish at dinner?"

"I wouldn't count on it," Leo replied, though he looked pleased.

The afternoon passed in a blur of activity. The teachers set up a makeshift workstation near the camp, where they began cleaning and preparing the fish for the evening meal.

Lucas hung around the edges, chatting with Leo and Caleb while keeping an eye on the barrel.

"Do you think they're going to make it taste good?" Caleb asked, wrinkling his nose.

"It's fish, man," Ryan said. "Throw it on a fire and it's edible. What more do you want?"

"Some seasoning would be nice," Lucas said wistfully. "Salt, pepper, maybe a little lemon — "

"Keep dreaming," Leo interrupted, shaking his head.

As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, the smell of roasting fish filled the air. The students gathered around the campfire, their spirits noticeably higher than they'd been in days.

The promise of a hot meal, no matter how simple, was enough to lift everyone's mood.

When it was finally time to eat, Lucas's group was among the first to be served. He held his portion of fish carefully, savoring the smell before taking a bite.

"Not bad," he said, nodding appreciatively.

"Could use some lemon," Leo muttered, earning a laugh from Caleb.

As the students ate, conversations buzzed around the fire.

Lucas glanced at the barrel, now empty, and felt a flicker of pride. For once, he had contributed to something meaningful, something that had made a difference.

"Hey," Leo said, nudging him with his elbow. "Think we'll get the same results tomorrow?"

"Definitely," Lucas said, smirking. "We're the dream team, remember?"

"More like the dumb luck team," Caleb muttered, though he was smiling.

Dinner soon wrapped up, and the soft hum of chatter around the campfire was slowly replaced by the rustling of students retreating to their tents.

The roasted fish had been satisfying — an unexpectedly good meal for their situation — but as full bellies turned to yawns, the campsite grew quieter.

Lucas lingered near the campfire, leaning against a nearby tree, watching as the others dispersed.

His stomach was full, but his mind wasn't ready to shut off just yet.

"I'll stay and help clean up," Lucas offered casually, stepping forward.

Mr. Rowe, the math teacher, paused as he adjusted his glasses. "Good on you, Carter. Make sure everything's tidy, or we'll have a raccoon party by morning."

Lucas nodded, glancing around to see if anyone else would join him. A small smile spread across his face when he noticed Mia had also stayed behind.

She was gathering the used plates and utensils, her messy bun barely containing her dark hair.

"Guess it's just us," Lucas said, picking up a stack of bowls.

Mia gave a small shrug, not looking up. "Yeah, someone's gotta do it, right?"

The two worked in silence for a while, the faint crackle of the fire and the rhythmic crashing of the waves filling the void. Lucas's mind, however, was far from quiet.

The System had been keeping him on edge all day, popping up tabs with every interaction.

Most of the stats he'd seen were ordinary, unremarkable — affection levels barely breaching double digits, trust even lower.

But Mia's numbers were different.

[Mia Harper]

[Affection: 30]

[Lust: 10]

[Trust: 25]

He glanced at her as she worked, her slim frame outlined by the flickering firelight. If he could just steer the conversation in the right direction —

"Lucas, are you even helping?" Mia's voice interrupted his thoughts.

He blinked, realizing he'd been holding the same bowl for the past thirty seconds. "Oh, yeah! Totally. Just... thinking about something."

"Uh-huh," Mia replied, unconvinced, but she let it slide.

As Lucas returned to work, something caught his eye — a figure moving near the edge of the campfire's light. He turned, and his breath hitched when he saw who it was.

Miss Reynolds.

Their English teacher was effortlessly captivating, even in this grim situation.

Her long, wavy auburn hair fell over her shoulders, swaying slightly as she moved.

Despite the roughness of their current predicament, she carried herself with the same poise and grace she had back at school.

Her simple shirt and cargo pants couldn't hide her toned figure, and Lucas found himself frozen as she bent down slightly to adjust the firewood.

'Her ass sure is round,'