It was dark that night. The rain was a cool mist that scattered across the desert. I stepped off the bus and waited.
Drugs.
That's what got me here. They weren't mine, you see. They just assumed ten pounds of marijuana were mine.
"I don't smoke!" I had said.
Did they believe me?
No. Of course not.
If they did, I wouldn't be here. I'd be swimming, or sleeping. Not waiting here. This is dumb. All a misunderstanding. That's all.
You see, the pot was my friend's. I'd been keeping it for him. There was no room in his closet; the crack was in the way. I told all that to the judge and he sent me to this camp. Camp Green Lake. In case you were wondering, it's co-ed now. I don't have a good, happy feeling about this place…
Maybe it's the withdrawal…
Who am I kidding?
I know I'm guilty. But why? Why? I'm not a bad girl. I'm just… misunderstood. I guess.
"Come here," said the bus driver.
I followed him to a weird, moldy, office-like building. Inside, it looked vaguely like my school principal's office, except it had wood paneling instead of tacky wallpaper.
"Sit," said the man sitting at the desk. He had a reptile-like sense about him. Squinted eyes, scale-like skin, semi-pointed teeth. Indeed, he looked as if he were a lizard man that was riding on a motorcycle for fifteen hours straight.
The bus driver handed him some papers and moved over a little so I could sit in the overstuffed, fake comfy chair.
"Felicity Lupin?" he questioned me.
"Yes?"
He squinted at the papers, raised his right eyebrow and nodded.
"I am Mr. Sir. You are to address me as Mr. Sir, and you are to call me Mr. Sir," he said this like he thought nothing of the papers.
I blinked as my answer.
Satisfied, Mr. Sir grabbed a handful of sunflower seeds that sat nonchalantly at his desk.
"Melba!" he shouted.
An excessively tall woman appeared by the door.
"What?" she asked irritably.
"Can you get Miss Lupin all situated?"
"'Kay," she said as she snapped her gum. "Come on, we don't got day!" she said to me.
I stood up and followed her outside. It slightly stopped raining, and kids were fooling around in the puddles. We ventured inside another building that was shack-like in appearance. Melba walked over to a large container labeled "Extras" and dug around for a moment. She pulled out an orange ball of fabric and threw it at me.
"That is your uniform." She grabbed another fabric ball and said, "This," she tossed it to me, "is your street clothes.
"Felicity?" asked a voice behind me.
I turned around. Standing behind me was a short man with sunscreen splotched on his nose.
"I am Mr. Pendanski. Now, I know that you are not a bad kid, you just did some bad things," he said as he held out his right hand.
Because he said this all very fast, I paused a moment. Then I realized that he wanted to shake my hand! Weird, I thought. I tried to casually shake his hand without hurting his feelings, but I burst out laughing!
"Are you under the influence of drugs or alcohol?" he asked seriously.
"No, er… I er… just thought of a … funny joke," I lied.
"Oh? What's the joke?"
Oh, shit! I thought.
"Er, a grasshopper hopped into a bar and the bartender said, 'Hey, We have a drink named after you!' And the grasshopper said, 'Oh, you have a drink named Steve?'" I pretended to laugh hard at this joke.
Pendanski, to my amazement, started to chuckle too.
"Heh, everyone's a comedian!"
Melba, on the other hand, just stood there waiting.
"Are you done, Pendanski?" she snapped her gum again then blew a bubble. "If you don't mind, I'd like to finish."
"Oh, sure, Melba," he went outside and waited.
Melba walked over and closed the door behind him.
"Undress."
A few dudes were peeking in through the window.
"Get out of here!" Melba shouted. They ran away laughing.
I shrugged and, well, you know, took off my clothes. I guess she wanted to see if I was hiding any of my extra stash with me. Little did she know, I hid matches in my sock. Why? I have no idea.
Melba beckoned for me to hand my clothes to her, which I did. I then pulled on the orange shit I had to wear.
Melba then went through my luggage and approved of my make-up, underwear, hairbrush, and journal. I have no clue of what happened to all my other stuff… She gave me a "Green Lake Survival Kit" (complete with a canteen, toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, shampoo, deodorant, sunscreen, a hat, and gloves) and handed me off to Mr. Pendanski.
"You are to be in G-tent. 'G' stands for 'Greatness'." He stopped to point out the showers (each one painted pink is for girls, how obvious) and water spigots.
Once we got to G-tent, all my… "tent-mates" (?) were chatting casually about the boys.
"Girls! This is your new tent-mate, Felicity."
A blonde girl with dark blue eye shadow stood and introduced everyone.
"I'm Star," she pointed to an overweight brunette, "that's Frenchie," to an Asian girl with long black hair, "that's Angel," to a muscular black girl, "that's Charlie," to a curly-haired redhead, "that's Red," and to a giggling Hispanic girl, "and that's Squirrel."
I smiled, suddenly feeling shy; I only hung out with punks and Goths at home, and these girls were all preps. Goths and preps don't mix.
"Well, I'll leave you girls to bond," Pendanski waved and left us.
"So, what're you in for?" asked Charlie.
"Drugs."
"Really?" asked Angel, "That's it?"
"Well, I also lied in court, and beat up a cop…"
"Oh," said Star, "so you're a liar?"
Squirrel started giggling again.
"Only when I have to be," I replied coolly, "Otherwise, I'm your average Aquarius."
They all looked at me like I was crazy.
"So, um, where do I sleep?" I quickly changed the subject.
"Right there," Frenchie pointed to a cot next to Red.
"Okay, cool," I made my way over to the cot, "and, um, do I just leave my stuff under the bed, or is there a special place for it?"
"Leave it under the bed," said Red.
"Ooo! What did they let you keep?" asked Squirrel excitedly as she stood up to get a look at my luggage.
"Just make-up, brush, a journal—"
"You have a journal!" gasped Angel.
"Can I read it?" asked Star.
"No, it's private."
"What about your make-up?" asked Charlie.
"What about my make-up?"
"Can we try it out?" asked Frenchie.
"It's already 'tried out'," I replied.
"Well you're no fun!" said a disappointed Squirrel.
"Hey dude! It's my stuff! I can do whatever the hell I want with it, and that doesn't include you screwing around with it!" I said furiously.
"Jeeze, anger-management!" said Frenchie. The girls chortled with enjoyment.
"Well, you're the ones who insulted me! Called me 'weird' and 'boring'."
Again, they looked at me like I just made all this up.
"Now I see why you're here for lying," said Star.
"Yeah, we don't hang out with liars!" said Red.
"Come on, girls, let's go to the rec-room," said Star.
They all left me to unpack in silence.
Yep, I'm just misunderstood…