Hmmm . . . boil the water first or put the noodles in and then boil? Matt, you’re a good cook, said no one ever. Either way, it was too late. The mac and cheese was mushy. If he worked at a restaurant, he’d be fired on the spot.

He devoured the glop regardless, the fork clanking in the pan like that rip-off ring toss game at the carnival.

Satiated, he studied the triple bunk bed and his red extra-long sleeping bag splayed out on the bottom bunk—the best bunk. No Sucker’s Bunk tonight, he thought with a hint of sadness. Then he glanced at the couch and pictured the mouse sitting on Trent’s chest and laughed.

After stretching the headlamp over his head, he killed the lantern. The mantles grew dull like heroin eyes.

Matt stripped down to his checkered boxers and T-shirt and crawled inside his toasty sleeping bag. While his bag was officially rated at zero degrees, it was more like a thirty-two degree bag in reality. Anything less than that and you’d wish you had either a blanket or another bag. The Yooper wasn’t the Rockies where nighttime September temps could get ridiculous.

A bit too hyper yet for sleep, Matt examined the planks that supported the middle bunk bed. Numerous shapes and patterns swirled on the wood. It didn’t looked stable, but no one ever fell through.

In the triple bunk bed, you never wanted to be under the guy who ate beans or the corned beef hash. Omelets were also something you had to look out for. The damn egg farts were the worst. Powerful farts rattled the wood like a train to a loose trestle.

Matt rolled to his left, switched off his lamp, and tucked it into the corner where the shack wall met bed frame. Pitch black, now. Only his breath and the wind.

An animal scratched softly outside, maybe a raccoon on the logs.

Some time later he woke to a strange glowing, a swirl of purple and green tinged with white. The peculiar light reflected off the glossy tablecloth and in the windows. Matt unzipped his sleeping bag, careful not to make noise. He placed his feet onto the musty floor, quiet as a ninja. The lights on the center table bloomed.

Is this a dream? he thought.