As I surveyed the room I met the gazes of ten students, all of whom found themselves in this office a year ago for the same reason. Although then they didn't know each other, all they knew were the labels each was given by their peers and today they know each other almost as well as themselves. Over the past year I have watched them grow, face life, death, fear and themselves. Their eyes held the truth, they held wisdom beyond their years and mine. Many of the ten have seen things that sixteen and seventeen year olds ought not see. But today here they are sitting in the small conference room, Styrofoam cups of water in front of them, preparing to go back to the camp that originally sent them into the whirlwind of choices, facing their demons and trusting. Last year they were campers, this year they were counselors-volunteers, using free will to attend instead of the same force that dragged them into that old, hot van a year ago and carried them up to the mountains for three months. Now they chose to go.
I met the stare of a young girl, one whose eyes held a dark and turbulent past, but now glimmered with hope. Her long red hair was pulled tightly back with a beige scrunchie, with just a few strands falling out of place and lining her face. She brushed them behind her ears, never taking her eyes off me. The white flecks were prominent in her bright blue eyes today, leaving nothing to chance. She wore a plain white tank top with a denim mini skirt, something she wouldn't have dared wear at school a year ago. Her name was Andrea Conlon, known to everybody here as Bottle Cap.
There was a young man sitting next to her called Dibs, formally known as Michah Benjamin Mcklan. It pleases me to know that a year ago in this office they all despised me, ready to fight, ready to leave, each practically having nowhere to go and no one to turn to. In the past year I have had them come back for advice and just to tell a story, but none was a meaningful as his story. The students who had impacted him and the girl who changed his life forever. He was someone that people didn't mess with due to his looks. He was tall, muscular, short brown hair and extremely dark blue eyes. He always wore baggy jeans and button up tops. This year his wardrobe had more color to it, instead of the typical red, black, white and some other patterns he wore-not often though. Nobody ever took the time to see past his rough exterior except these nine, and that wasn't by choice. But I'd put money on it that they are happy they did. Listen to me, now I'm sounding like race. Although he didn't go to summer camp with them, he was here when they got back. With no one and nothing, but they took him in and helped him, becoming life long friends.
Chloe and Jack sat next to each other-they were each other's saviors. At least that's what the rest of the group teased, always sending Chloe into a fit a giggles and Jack's cheeks a shade of crimson. Her clothes were looser now than a year ago, and sometimes that worried me, but I didn't let it get to me. Knowing she was safe with the Bennetts. Chloe was a looker, along with majority of the girls here at Lake Vista High, but she had a sense of innocence that was never tainted. She had long curly auburn hair that everybody loved to play with, it was thicker these days and much fuller adding life to her little body. Jack loved her hair, he told everybody that her hair was what attracted him to her in the first place. An attraction that was deadly…Her green eyes looked over Jack who was sitting there playing with his Styrofoam cup, breaking off little pieces here and there. He had the red bandanna tied around his neck as usual, boy did the girls had fun stealing that at camp. A light blue shirt fell loosely over his white denim jeans with the sleeves rolled up, revealing his forearms. Their eyes were both a pair that held the same truth, the truth of love and why people say it isn't easy and why it hurts. Now all of them experienced truth this summer but none as dramatic as these two. Wow, I am so proud of them was I could think, as I recollected the past summer.
Michael Conlon, also know as Spot is Andrea's brother. They look nothing alike, while she has long red hair (inherited fromtheir mother) he had dirty blonde hair that sometimes looked like sand. He had it cut short and mostly wore it tucked under a gray newsie cap. He was different, wasn't going to conform, ever and that was the truth. Spot didn't lie, if he didn't like you, you knew, so most people never ask him for the truth for that fact. They had a rude awakening. It wasn't a purposeful trait it was just something that he had picked up over the years. Lying destroyed his life, so his vow was never to let lying stand in his way or destroy anybody else's life. Today he wore a pair of khaki dickies and a black shirt advertising vans. He sat there on the opposite side of bottle Cap shooting Dibs warning glare.
"Ouch!" he yelled rubbing the back of his head after Sierra slapped him. "Dang whisper, why'd ya go an do that!" Noticing he was the only speaking and he had interrupted the silent thoughts he slid back in his chair and adjusted the cap. Whisper was wearing her light brown hair down with her bangs just hanging below her eyebrows, enhancing the freckles that scattered themselves across her face. Those hazel eyes were enough to melt any heart, it just so happened a year ago all of them were immune to emotions. She wore a pair of blue jeans with a plain white tank top, not worrying about the current fashion trends and what everybody else believed. She had he friends now and was content with the life she lived.
Michael stifled a giggle before brushing his black hair back out of his face. His red shirt was unbuttoned halfway down revealing his white beater. He rocked back and fourth in the chair surveying the room as I did earlier with a grin spread across his face. That was until he fell backwards and busted his head on the wall causing the water to spill on the table and start spreading in every which way.
"I can't believe you just did that Skittery!" Sneaks howled as the water dripped down onto her Paris blue bell bottoms, causing wet spots to arise. Her shirt raised slightly as she threw her hands up in disbelief. She was very sarcastic and wasn't one to apply patience at every given opportunity. Her green eyes lit up with laughter seconds later at the sight of Skittery sprawled on the ground, with a wet spot right on the crotch of his jeans.
Jake just shook his head in pure amusement waiting for someone to offer assistance to the situation. He had changed so much in the last year that life gave a new meaning to him. Jake reminded everybody of a band member from Good Charlotte that all they knew him by was Jake, nothing else. He had his newsie cap pushed to the front of his head of hair shadowing his eyes and the rest of his facial features.
Cassidy Roberts stood up and walked over to the mess on the floor, formally known as Skittery and offered a helping hand. She pressed the edge of her white cotton skirt to straighten it and readjusted her navy blue blouse before continuing to fiddle with her cross necklace. She had given life to others metaphorically and seriously. She was a true fighter, never willing to give up herself for others. To everyone here she was known as nugget, and the name fit.
Their eyes will never stop astounding me because I still find myself lost in them. Swimming in their emotions and memories. Some pleasant and some dark and rigid. But no one will ever have a tale to tell like theirs. Nobody. Not even my eyes could hold that much pain. By the way I'm Kloppman, the guidance counselor here at Lake Vista High. Welcome.
