Okay so I know I probably shouldn't be posting a new story but I cant help myself. I've got a couple of other chapters written but I just wanted to see what response I get -if any- and if anyone likes it before I write more. So review if you please(:
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Camp Believe; Brooke Davis had signed up for mud baths and manicures, Peyton Sawyer had signed up because it was the lesser of two evils and Haley James, well, she wasn't exactly sure what she'd signed up for. One thing was for sure, it was something none of them could have ever anticipated.
--
Denial is a friend of mine.
-
"So, some of you may be wondering why you're here…"
You can say that again, sista.
"..others may be angry at whoever sent them…"
I will never speak to him again. Ever.
"…and the rest." Chuckle. "Simply wont care…"
Oh, he is cute. I wonder what policies they have on dating the instructors…
… … …
the day previous
… … …
-
-
The Addict.
--
"…coming in at all hours…can't be trusted… out with that boy…"
Whoa.
Is the room spinning?
Oh, right. I inhaled a long breath.
"Haley, are you even listening to me?"
I opened my eyes, which was weird because I couldn't remember closing them.
I replied "of course" out of habit. How could I not?
The look on her face told me that I hadn't managed to keep my thoughts inside my head.
"Are you…" She looked really mad. "Are you high?"
"What?" I managed to sound offended. "No. Of course not." I tried to make my pupils smaller. "I am offended that you would even think that."
"You are, aren't you?" She let an aggravated breath. "I don't know why I even bother…"
I was trying to listen to her, I really was but the fact that her head just grew about two sizes bigger was slightly distracting.
Wow.
"Mom…" I was planning on asking her about it but she was already off again.
"…don't know where you are half the time…physically or mentally…"
I didn't want to listen to her anymore so instead I thought of more pleasant things, such as earlier on with Wes.
Mmm, Wes.
He was so cute.
Gorgeous, really.
With his shaggy brown hair and okay, maybe he wasn't the most muscley person in the world but that didn't matter. He had adorable dimples with green eyes-or was it brown? Anyway, he was so sweet and kind…
Wait a minute.
This was Wes I was thinking about, right? Wes being the guy who stuck his tongue down my throat after thirty seconds of knowing me, and me, been the stupid person I am, letting him. The guy who made out with my 'best friend' thirty seconds after that?
But he was so hot.
Eugh, I hate him.
I was so stoned.
"…can't do it anymore… had enough…send you away…"
Wait-what?
"Send who a what now?" I focused all my attention on my mother now, her head having gone back to it's original size.
She sighed, looking right at me, her dark eyes a reflection of my own but her pupils weren't the size of hockey pucks. When she looked at me like that, her face a mixture of frustration and disappointment it reminded me that this wasn't her. Wasn't my mom.
She hadn't been my mom since she'd married him.
"David's right."
Point proven.
I folded my arms over my chest, waiting for the long spiel about how great my step-loser was.
But it never came.
She just shook her head before walking into the kitchen. I heard her shuffling about in drawers and curiosity getting the better of me I followed after her, trying my best to ignore the throbbing in my head.
"Mom?"
"I can't do this anymore, Haley."
I got this weird tightening feeling in my stomach. Do what? I wanted to ask but she was already talking again.
"This is best for both of us. It'll get you the help you need."
Help? "Mom, I don't need-" I started but she cut me off.
"David brought the pamphlet home a few weeks ago, I never even took a second look at it but this past month you've gotten worse. Out all the time, with people I don't even know-" She shook her head, seeming to be talking more to herself than to me.
I wanted to defend myself but I couldn't find my voice, my lips felt like concrete.
"Yes." She nodded, picking up the phone. "This is best for everyone."
-___
Now, as I sat on a bus with a incredibly uncomfy seat I realised that that was probably the best moment I had to butt in.
I didn't even know why she was sending me to this ridiculously named place. Camp Believe? Psshht. Camp Bullshit more like.
I didn't have a problem. I wasn't an addict as I'd heard her tell whoever she was on the phone to. Sure I took drugs every once in a while but I wasn't addicted, it was just for fun. I could stop, no problem.
Actually, I'll be so un-addicted that all the people here will wonder why I was signed up in the first place and send me home.
Yes, that's exactly what I'll do.
… … …
-
-
The Tortured Artist.
--
Green.
I pressed the bottle to my lips again, my eyes stinging as the vodka hit the back of my throat.
My father, is an asshole.
"People always leave."He had said.
I let out a humourless laugh, I knew that better than anyone. Who did he think he was, Gondi?
"And sometimes, you just have to let go."
My eyes started stinging again, but for a different reason this time.
Dickhead.
Amber.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, the engine revving and I ignored the blaring of horns behind me.
Red.
I pressed my foot down, only focused on the road ahead.
Go.
-__
"I don't believe this."
I rolled my eyes, my head falling lolling against the back of the couch. "You're overreacting."
My dad stopped his pacing and turning to face me. "Overreacting?" Wow, he looked pissed. "Peyton, you crashed your car." He spoke slowly, as if speaking to a five year old. "Into a police car."
I refrained from smirking. "You forgot, while drunk."
I think if this was a cartoon, his face would be red and steam would be coming from his ears.
Now, that's a picture.
"I don't think you realise just how serious this is, Peyton."
I pushed a lock of hair from my face before studying my recently black painted nails. "Oh, no. I do."
In all my seventeen years on this earth I don't think I'd even seen my dad look quite so mad as he did right now.
"Mr. Sawyer?"
I looked up to see a slim woman with long blonde standing a few feet away from us.
"We're ready for you now."
My dad sent me a look that I knew quite well, 'behave' he told me with his eyes.
I gave him one right back, 'fuck you'.
I rolled my eyes behind his back as we followed the girl through two large brown doors, her hair swaying back and forth with every step.
The court room was empty, apart from the judge, the blonde girl and a few other men I didn't recognize. Oh, wait.
"Mornin' officer." I tipped my invisible hat at him. You'd think he'd remember me? I mean I did crash my car into his.
"Larry." The judge smile at my father, then at me. "Peyton, two visits in one week? I'm honoured."
I glared at him. "I just couldn't stay away." I plopped myself down on a wooden bench.
"So what is it this time." He pushed his glasses up his nose. "Ah, drink driving…"
I tuned him out, I'd heard it all before. Who cared? He'd finish his stupid speech about how I was such a terrible person and then my dad would defend me with a speech which featured the words,'troubled'and 'going through a phase'many with much 'ohhing' and 'ahhing' they would finally decided that community service was a fair punishment.
Blah, blah, blah.
"…don't think its working…keeps repeating…"
I let out a weary sigh, they did this every time too. Said that the punishment just didn't seem to be working, but my dad would butt in, saying that this time it would, he would make sure of it.
Bullshit, really.
But when I didn't hear my dads voice I opened my eyes, why wasn't he butting in?
"…camp….troubled teens…we think this would be best..."
What would be best?
I looked at my dad, expecting to hear him object, say 'no', defend me. But he didn't
Instead he nodded, looking at me with hard eyes and it was then I noticed how old he looked, how tired.
"So do I."
__ _
And that was how I, Peyton Sawyer landed on a bus headed to Camp Neurotic for disturbed teens.
Okay, so it was actually called Camp Believe and it was for teenagers with problems. It was supposed to get us to work through our issues and hopefully make friends along the way. Seriously, that's what it said the brochure. What a pile of bull.
But it was better than the alternative. The judge had given me two choices, Camp Crap or Juvy. It wasn't exactly a choice but at least he'd given me options.
What a prick.
I sighed, resting my head against the back of the bus seat, I wasn't pissed at him, he was just doing his job.
It was my dad I was angry with. Why hadn't he fought harder for me? Why hadn't he fought at all?
I shook my head, looking out of the window, I couldn't think about that right now. I had much more important things to worry about, like how I was going to handle three months at this place.
Oh, and did I mention that no alcohol of any kind was aloud?
Lord help me.
… … …
-
-
The Nympho.
--
"Oh-we can't d-God- do this-grunt-here-uh."
I grinned.
Oh Macon, sweet naïve, little Macon.
"You're so cute." I said, pressing him further against the wall. My hand that wasn't currently in his pants gripped the back of his neck, pulling his mouth onto mine.
He stopped resisting then and kissed me.
I pulled back, grinning when he groaned in protest and began unbuttoning his shirt.
"Brooke, maybe-"
I sighed, giving him a firm squeeze. "Macon, it's fine. No one is going to-"
Suddenly it was far too bright in the small closest, I took my hand from his chest to shield my eyes.
"Miss Davis, please take your hand from that boys pants and come with me."
Not good.
…
"Now, I'm sure you are just as concerned about Brooke's behaviour as we are."
My mother gazed at the principle with the 'you're wasting my time'look.
I knew it well.
Mr. Garrison cleared his throat. "Well, as you know this has been going on for quite a while. Brooke's activities-" He cleared his throat uncomfortably and I couldn't help but smirk. "-Are starting to concern us."
I sighed, bor-ing.
"There was the incident in the car-"
I grinned, remembering that particular day. Oh Antonio…
"-and also the boys locker room, the cafeteria, the library-"
"Your point is, Mr. Garrison?" My mother snapped, her voice like a whip.
I looked at my headmaster, wanting to hear his answer probably more than my mom. What do you mean, Mr. Garrison?
"Well." He cleared his throat again, pulling at the collar of his shirt, his purple tie having been pulled too tight. "I think that, maybe Brooke needs counselling, her activities seem to be growing more, extravagant-"
"Are you trying to say my daughter is a nymphomaniac, Principle Garrison?"
I raised an eyebrow at him.
"No, no of course not." He looked as if he was choking and I couldn't blame him, Victoria Davis was an intimidating woman when she wanted to be. "I just think that maybe Brooke's actions are a cry for help, for attention." He explained, fidgeting in his seat. "There's this great new Camp for teenagers like her."
I pulled a face, I get more than enough attention, thank you very much. Do you not remember the situation you found me in a mere thirty minutes ago? And what did he mean, teenagers like me? I am Brooke Davis.
"Are you trying to say that I do not give my daughter enough attention?" She didn't wait for him to reply. "Because I certainly do."
I wanted to snort. Oh yeah, throwing credit cards at me. Great parenting, mom.
"I'm sure you do." Principle Garrison rushed out. "I just think Brooke would benefit from this." He quickly rifled through a drawer on his desk before producing a leaflet and thrusting it at my mom.
She took it, with another look she wore often, displeasure.
I looked at the front of the booklet where in bold, yellow letters were the words Camp Believe, and in the corner was a small sun. Two spirals made up the middle, yellow and pink, and then surrounding them were small, squiggly lines. Pretty.
Underneath that was a group of people, around my age, smiling and laughing. They all had on bright orange t-shirts with that same small logo on the left breast.
I opened my mouth to argue, orange so wasn't my colour.
"…it has many treatments to help with the recovery process…"
I shut my mouth.
Treatments?
My mind instantly flashed to myself, lying on a bed with a very tan, very hot masseuse rubbing at my skin. Mmm…
I looked at my mother, about to tell her I had no problem with going but I stopped myself. It wasn't like she would ask if I wanted to go, she would just tell me.
So, instead I turned to Mr. Garrison, giving him my best dimpled smile. "When do I leave?"
-__-
I winced as yet again I was knocked about on a very uncomfy, very smelly bus.
You'd think they'd have better transport?
I didn't let it bother me though, once I got there I could relax. I bet they have a spa, with all sorts of different things. Just thinking about it made my skin tingle. Flexing my freshly pink painted fingers I looked around at everyone else and I frowned, none of them looked remotely pleased. The blonde sitting opposite me looked anything but glad to be here and the brunette in front of her looked as if she had no idea what she was doing here.
Why weren't they happier? Did they not realise we were in for three months worth of pampering?
I rolled my eyes, leaning back against my seat. Some people.
I smiled happily, this is going to be so much fun.