Summary: Max was framed for a crime she did not do. Having been in trouble over the years, Juvie was the key answer, however a lady by the name of Denise had another way for Max, sending her to her husband's camp, called Lake Amaryllis for misbehaved teens. Max having no choice agrees.
She finds way more, true friendship, something she never had before, the feeling of being cared for like a daughter, never used to that, after being in a foster home for most of her life, and love by a boy that becomes her whole life…
A/N: So…I'm baaack….I have another story, witch as sad as I am to say this, is shortly coming to an end. But I thought I would write another story, a longer one, with a bit more meaning to it. The other one had camping too. But this one is a summer camp, instead of a week school trip. I will also have a few OC'S.
A few things I have to get out of the way before we can start. First Lake Amaryllis is not a real place. I had made it up. Second… I hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it… and third, this one is a human FanFiction, (NO WINGS.)
DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN MAXIMUME RIDE
ENJOY!
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~Lake Amaryllis~
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PROLOGUE:
"I didn't do it!" I bellowed.
The brainless cop jerked me off my skateboard, gliding a pair of handcuffs out of his butt pocket, he grunted at my snappy outburst, uncaringly, clasping the ice cold sliver cuffs around my wrists, manacling me like an animal. Holy snot! Whatever sent this elephant-size idiot seeking after me, I did not do. Sure I've… been pretty 'friendly' with the law a few times… okay, maybe a bit too many times. But this time I'm actually innocent, impeccably clean. Go figure. For once I am faultless, but nobody believes me. The girl that cried stinking wolf…
I was shoved through the back seat of the doughnut-scented, small cop car, rudely my black threaded bag and rusty skateboard closely following me, clattering on the carpet floor of the car. The car door slammed shut, clicking locked. Jerk.
"Max,"
"Curt," I said curtly.
The second man sat in the passage side; black wrapped around sunglasses concealed his dark coco eyes, James Bond style, his lips twisted in disappointment –aimed at me, both of his tawny fists were planted on his slacks in gnarled balls, knuckles whiten, stretched across each boney bump. Oh man, he was furious, fuming hot in his seat. Curt and I are… uncanny friends. Yup, perfect way to explain what we are. Curt is a cop himself, actually he's the boss of the cops, so Curt is the highest cop, the 'big man'. Over the years that I've been caught in a 'tiny' pickle, he helped me out, swooping in, acting as the hero. But we still fight like cats and dogs, but I know, really know, he actually cared. The dad I've never had.
"What did I do?" I asked him.
Curt was mute, his balled fists unlocking, wiggling his fingers to get the blood flowing. "We're talk when we get to the station." He murmured.
I huffed annoyed, slamming my stiff back against the cushioned seat. This was insane! Okay, clam Max; what in heaven names did you do...! Nothing. Gosh, I did nothing. My mind was built as one blank wall, nothing drifting to the surface. You would think I would remember if I did something that would win me a ride in a cop car, right?
"You know this is kidnapping, right?" I shot out. A tempt to get them to set me free. No such luck.
He snorted, "No, not if you are being cuffed by a cop, it' isn't."
I growled and lapsed into silence, nipping my thumb nail. A nervous quality I had. I had too many strikes, this one was the last one, wiggling out of this was going to be nasty. Perspiration lined my hair line, each tree we passed, my heat thumped, boisterously against my ribcage.
At the station I was hauled out of the cop car, still imprisoned in the dam sold cuffs, and escorted to the 'back' room –were they integrate people. I felt more like this was my bedroom, then the one at my 'home' with how much time I spend in it. The cop shoved me down on the seat, he left. Curt stayed, oh… goodie. The door slammed shut, locking me with a pissed off Curt. He paced back and forth, and then turned to me. "What am I going to do with you?" he asked me.
"What did I do?" I feel like a horrible rerun of some stupid commercial; one nobody pays any mind to with how many times I asked the same question in such a short time.
Curt again ignored the question. Confused, I watched him wheel a television placed on a chestnut table in front of me. "This, you did this." He wiggled a tape, he plucked from his pocket. He slipped the tape into the square slot, clicking it on.
It was static at first, but then a car appeared, my car. I blinked. My car was stolen last week. I was going to call the cops, and report it missing, but oddly, it was back parked in my driveway a few days ago, in the same condition I left it, so I never did. What was the point?
The car was idly parked; the doors opened, and out pour three people. One had a body as a female, slim and tiny, the other two males, wide, and bulky. All three were decked in the same wear, ski masks, black jeans, and black jackets. The three unknown people slithered towards a home, slipping through a low half open window. The tape went black; until we were now in the home also. The owner of the recorder was a part of this too. Four then,
I watched in horror as the three demolish the home, slashing couches with a pocket knife, bashing the television with a wood baseball bat, dishes, plates, cups, and the coffee table were mangled to tiny pieces on the floor, looking like glittering jewels. One of them took out a spray paint can, and drew offensive words…and my name in dark blue on the walls.
Oh…crap.
I swung my gaze to Curt, eyes wild. "This was not me."
"Max…Max this looks really bad, your car, the spray paint. The home it happened to be…"
"Whose?"
"…Amy."
Shit!
Amy is a malicious bitch. I was the tough cookie that had no care in life; she was the perky princess everyone loved and adored. To me, she was one hard shell. The outside was beautiful and perfect, designed to perfection, the inside hollow, full of emptiness. It was natural for us to hate each other. Her home centering this stunt really made me look guilty. It was something I would do too.
"What are we going to do Max, this is your last strike. I can't help you out of this one. Juvie looks like it's playing in your very near future."
"No!" I yelled. I would have slammed my fists hard on the table, to establish how strongly I felt about that, my prisoned wrists made that impossible however.
"Curt you have a phone call." One of the cops popped his head in.
He nodded, "I will be back." His eyes glazed over the cuffs, "Don't move,"
I watched as he left the room, leaving me cuffed. I can't believe this happened. I gave the paused television the hairy eyeball, sending all my rage at it. My eyes scanned over one of the guys, scrutinize him closer. Who could they be? I had to be closed to them for sure, who else would have free region to my car keys, and know which home to target to make me look bad.
In livid, I waited, and waited.
The seconds ticked, the more I got angry, I waited some more.
Finally after quite a few hours, the door opened. A woman dressed in a dusky gray suit, smiled at me. Her dark brown hair coiled into a neat bun, green cat eyes, sparkling behind square frames. "Max?" she asked,
"Yeah, who's asking?"
"I'm Denise Trane."
"Okay….?"
She clicked her way over to the table, placing a small suitcase on the table top. Sliding in the seat across from me, she shot me a friendly, warm smile. "I'm here to help you." She glanced over at the video, "I am well aware that you might be sent to Juvie after…"
"I. Did. Not. Do. It." I gritted.
She held her hands up, "I'm not saying you did, and really that's not of importance at this moment. What is however…I might be able to get you out of Juvie."
"Who are you?" Okay, not the way to butter up the lady who just admitted she might be able to slide me right out of Juvie.
She smiled kindly, popping open the lid of her suitcase, saying. "My husband sent me. He owns this camp." Denise placed a few sheets of papers in front of us, "and we think it will be perfect for you."
"Camp?" I asked, eyeing her.
"Yes. The camp my husband owns, is a…special type of camp. It will be better than Juvie for sure, but in a lot of ways it's a lot alike. This camp is for misbehaved teens. My husband always felt strong about this sort of thing. He used to be a cop himself you know.
"And he hated when he had to bring in a teen, which shoplifted, trashed a home, possession of drugs, the list goes on and on. Some –most, was placed in Juvie, my husband hated it. Told me it ruined these kids, some just can't be help, but most can, if they had the right guidance.
"So, he had quit, declaring it just was not worth it, always had a soft spot for kids. He then decided to help these kids, opening his own camp. One that teen's with a behaving problem can be sent to, he helps them heaps. I think this place might be a perfect place for you…and Curt agrees."
I sorted through all that she told me, camp for misbehaved teens? How would that work out? I glared at the still paused television. Yes I was mad someone framed me. But to be honestly blunt, I would have ended up here at some point, rather it was at someone else hand, or my own.
"What did my foster mom think of this?" I finally asked.
"She thought it was a great idea. And I talked to the judge who agreed to give this a change before Juvie. Really it is all up to you. So what do you think?"
I frowned. I've never been an outdoorsy person. I loved my laptop, cell phone, and cable way too much to give it up for, hiking, nature or hell a portable bathroom. But forced to choose between the two…camp sounds way more appealing.
"Fine," I said.
Denise smiled brightly, relief shining in her eyes. Odd she bailey knows me, then yet she's happy I choose the path that might 'help' me?
"Good. All you have to do is sign here." She clicked a ball point pen, handing it to me. Pushing over the papers she tapped a dotted line. I scribbled my name on the blue dots.
"Is that all?"
"Yup-"she gathered the papers, "-information is pretty basic, I've already talked to your foster mom, she has to sign a few things too, but were take care of that when she is here. All you need to know is there are no cell phones, iPods, cd players, laptops, or any handheld games allowed. We also don't usually have new kids in the middle, like this, being it's the middle of summer, but we made an exception for you. We will send a van next Saturday morning to pick you up… I think that sums it all up for you."
"Uh…okay." I mutter.
"Hey, Denise, Max's mom's here." Curt announced, walking into the room.
"Foster mom." I mutter, shaking the cuffs, "Could I be let go now?" I asked.
Curt nodded, "Denise, why don't you get what you need from Max's mom, I need to talk to Max,"
Denise nodded leaving the room. Curt shut the door, before plopping on the table besides me. I cocked my head to the side, "Gonna let me go, yet?"
"No, not until you listen to what I have to say," he fingered the key, that kissed freedom, thoughtfully. "I asked Denise and her husband Seth, to do this as a favor for me. Not that they were against it or anything. Seth loves kids, and loves to help them. I did this because I really think you have potential to be more, much more, you're a smart girl Max, who has a bright future. But what you're doing is screwing that all up. I really hope this might help a bit.
"Seth and I go way back, and I think you're like him a lot. Just… you need to make an effort, please. Next time you're in here, I hope it's out of free will to visit me, not because you got cuffed for something you did, okay?"
I looked up at Curt, who had a weary expression, lips drawn tight. The worry in his eyes made me feel heavy, like a water balloon about to pop. The confidence he had in me always blew me away, I won't lie, mainly because I'm admitting it to myself only, but I always hated the disappointment that was on displayed from him when I was arrested.
That was why, I said quietly. "Okay."
And hell, I was going to try.
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~So…what do you think…?
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