Hi everyone.....this is my first chapter! REad it! Please! also, review.( THat was a little boring but this little not thingy hardly matters!)Enjoy!

Cheetos. I craved the crisp, satisfying crunch, the dusty, orange powder on my lips and teeth. So amazing, with the artificial cheese flavor, I don't care if they'll make me obese or whatever…. I just need cheesy comfort in a place like this.

Yes, you can call me crazy, fantasizing about snack foods at a time like this. Especially in a time like this.

However, nothing, and I really do mean nothing, could top the craziness of my past…..I don't know, life???

Come on, Lucy, I scolded myself. You broke the law, your parents hate you,( come to think of it, who doesn't?) and now you're going to Camp Green Lake. It couldn't get any worse. Yet, all you can think about is Cheetos!!! There are no Cheetos at Camp Green Lake!! Stop dreaming! Snap out of it!

I would have slapped myself right then and there, but unfortunately, the stupid handcuffs restricted my movement. Maybe if I could reach the Cheetos bag with my foot.......

Fifteen minutes later, my stuff was scattered all over the floor of the grimy bus, in my attempt to grab the bag with my foot. Everything was probably picking up some rare, horrible disease only found in places like this. What if the next time I touched it, it killed me or something?

By the way, I am not the type of person who complains about everything. I may be a germ phobic, I may be obsessed with Cheetos, but I am not, and I repeat not, one of the glass-is-half-empty people.

The bus (which, come to think of it, seems to contain more dirt than actual metal) hit a bump in the dirt road, scattering all my things even more. My stomach started doing gymnastics, flopping all over in me that made me want to puke.

Crap, crap, crap. I closed my eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in…

Oh, I forgot to mention this, but I get insanely, sickeningly, puke-green-all-over-the-floor carsick. Everybody I know dreads riding in cars with me. Not here, I prayed. Not here, not now, not ever. Please, I beg of you, I'll be a good person; in fact, I'll be a total saint, just please.

I need some fresh air, but the windows were bolted shut. WTF? Are the authorities worried that delinquents like me are going to escape or something? Hello, even someone as skinny and toothpick-like as me would get stuck. Plus, what kind of person would try to escape on a moving bus, eight feet above the ground?

But still, is a little fresh air too much to ask? Are people like me not worthy of it? Just because we're delinquents, it doesn't mean we deserve to die in the thick, stifling fumes of this bus.

You're one to talk, a voice told me. You're the last person in the world who deserves anything.

Right now, I wanted nothing more than ( besides Cheetos, of course) to die. You may think I'm some emo suicidal freak, but like I said before, I'm the total opposite. But I really wanted to die right now. Crazy, crazy, crazy.

Everyone who hates me would collapse by my dead body, sobbing, begging for mercy. Meanwhile, I would watch from Heaven, refusing to forgive them. Or would I go to Heaven? Still, Hell couldn't be as bad as Camp Green Lake. But isn't that what everyone says?

Too late.

The sad excuse for a bus lurched to a stop, its tires screeching against the dusty road. I quickly gathered all my things from all over the bus (the guard, by now, had unlocked my handcuffs).

I stood in the aisle of the bus for a second. (Once, a very long time ago, I was scared to death of aisles because my friend told me man-eating tapeworms lived in them, but that's beside the point.)

However dirty and smelly as it was, I suddenly wanted to stay there for unclear reasons. Maybe because it was sort of my only link to home, in a way? Who knows. But at the same time, I wanted to leave, even if Camp green Lake was on the other side.

I was stuck in the middle. What else is new?

"Come on, girlie," The raspy voice of the guard snapped me out of my thoughts. Which, by the way, seemed to be the only thing I could control around here, unfortunately.

As I stepped off the bus and walked toward the main building of the camp, or correctional facility, or prison, whatever it was, I seriously felt like I was melting in the sweltering heat. However impossible I thought it was, it seemed to be hotter. Who knows what else will surprise me today?

I looked behind me. The bus was gone. Now, I could only go forward.

That was my first mistake.

I guess I wasn't watching where I was going, and being the person I am, well, let's just say that I fell in a hole.

Yeah, you heard me correctly. Face first, landing hard on my left hand, and basically everything else horrible. No, I am not one of those wimpy girls that want everyone to feel sorry for me, personally I think those kinds of girls are pathetic.

Here I am, I thought, I haven't even been here five minutes, and I've fallen into a hole. Smooth, very smooth. I thought I would lose it and start crying right there, but Instead, I sucked it up.

Lying in the dirt, I thought, maybe falling in here symbolizes something? An early grave, maybe? Okay, now I'm officially crazy. Maybe I should have been put in a mental institution instead.

Cautiously, I stood up, dusted myself off. I was pretty much okay, except for-

HOLY BANANAS THAT HURTS SO FREAKIN' MUCH!!!!!!!!

And it did. My left pinkie finger was swollen to the size of, um, whatever you would compare to a swollen pinkie. It really looked disgusting, being all twisted into some unnatural position. Plus, it was as purple as the Converses I was wearing.

Well, this might be a problem, I thought sarcastically. Seriously, thought, how was I going to write? I was left-handed. I didn't even want to think about how the heck I was going to dig holes.

A shadow appeared over me. Yay! Salvation! Maybe the sun got blocked out! Maybe-

Oh. Never mind.

Towering over me was a creepy-looking guy in a cowboy hat. And sunglasses (I somehow knew he was leering at me behind them). Also, he was spitting sunflower seed shells in the hole I was in, and I think he was purposely aiming them at me. In attempt to dodge them, I ran into the side of the hole.

"The only way out is up," The guy said in an accent I could barely understand. "This ain't a Girl Scout Camp." Wow. Some help.

I scrambled out of the hole, only using my right hand to heave myself out. All that time, the cowboy hat guy stared at me in a way that made me feel uncomfortable. How about you try climbing out of a hole with a busted finger? I thought. Is he the devil to this hell?

" My name is Mr. Sir," The man said, only with his accent it sounded like," Ma nayme is Mista Sirrrrr."

" Ya wiyll cawl meh thayat, is thayat cleayer?" ("You will call me that, is that clear?"See how hard it is to understand?

I nodded at his request, more out of fear than agreement. Hugging my bag to my chest, I suddenly felt self-conscious. Does this Mr. Sir guy enjoy tormenting sweet, innocent kids like me?

Sweet and innocent, yeah right, a random voice in my head said. I sighed. It was no use pretending.

Mr. Sir took my bag out of my arm, started going through it. My mind wandered aimlessly.

Why am I here? Isn't the guilt punishment enough, knowing you changed someone's life forever? And ended someone else's? Isn't feeling like the cruelest person in the world the worst feeling on the face of this planet? Now everyone hates me, from my parents, Jane, and I can't even describe how he must feel about me. I don't deserve him, those electric blue eyes……so mesmerizing……

I was jolted out of my flashback when Mr. Sir tosses my backpack back to me. With a little annoyance I saw that he had taken the Cheetos. " Here ya go."

Then, another weird man walked through the door.

"WELCOME!!!" Wow. Only one word and he was way too enthusiastic for my taste. "I am Mr. Pendanski, and I am your counselor."

Black beard, bald. Sunburnt nose. Huge smile plastered on his face, with two rows of yellow teeth. Hmmmmm….He looks like a cross between a clown and a pirate.

" You've made some mistakes in your life," he exclaimed," But I know you are a good person!" Ha, ha, funny joke.

Ok, this guy is really beginning to get on my nerves. I've only met him a minute ago! What is it with the whack jobs of this place?

I followed Mr. Whack Job to a row of tents, brown, itchy looking canvas that I was certain they were unsuitable living conditions. " This is your tent," Mr. Whack Job said, gesturing to the farthest one down. " The other campers will be back soon." Then he left.

Oh, good, alone time. I was beginning to think that didn't exist anymore! Flopping down on one of the thin cots, I began to write.

" I'm all over the place, all mixed up. Mr. Pendanski, aka Mr. Whack Job, has some serious issues, not to mention he scares the crap out of me. Mr. Sir is even worse. After all that happened with my dad, I can't trust anyone. Not ever. But the bruises and scars are all still there, as if he'll always be a part of who I am.

Mom, I am so so so sorry. I was being stupid, but I guess you knew that already. I truly didn't mean for Jane to die, despite what you may think. And Ricky. I know you'll never forgive me. You wish I was dead. But to see your face, all twisted up with anger and hostility-at me! All I want is for you to forgive me. I mean, I got sent to Camp Green Lake for it! With all my soul, I'm sorry. "

Tears were flying down my face like raindrops on a car window. If they only knew.

The tent door, or rather the teant flap, was lifted. Scrambling to put my notebook under the mattress of the cot, I thought, it couldn't get any worse.

Once again, I was so, so wrong.

Was it good? Bad? Tell me, or I'll be sad.

Hey, that rhymes!