Tyler hated camp outs. He was 16, too old for this boy scout bullshit, true, there were guys older than him in the troop, but still. His friend Toby had managed to score some beer and weed, and instead of hanging out with his friends he was here with the do good squad.
Tyler scarfed down his dinner and rushed off saying he had to use the latrine pit before he could get drafted into clean up duty. He walked away from the campsite, not switching on his flash light until he was far enough away that they other guys wouldn't see it. Muttering under his breath he kept walking, eventually stumbling on a river. Figuring this was as good a place as any he sat down, leaning against a tree and pulled out one of the joints he had managed to hide in his packs. The scout master Mr. Johnson had been a complete prick about searching his packs because he had been caught once with a beer.
Lighting up he took a few drags and leaned back against the tree with a sigh. Smoking through it he ground it out in the dirt and stood up. His fuzzed mind not paying full attention to his surroundings he slipped on a root and went tumbling head first into the river. A few panicked seconds of splashing later he managed to pull himself up the bank.