Disclaimer: I do not own Stanley Yelnats or X-Ray or really anyone in this story. I do, however, own Rayven.
Summary: A girl is placed in Camp Green Lake for her heinous crimes, makes close friends with Caveman, and mortal enemies with some other campers…
A Girl in a Boy's World
The vinyl on the bus stuck to the back of my bare legs ruthlessly. It was hot, hotter than California had ever been. The handcuffs were too tight… they burned. I closed my eyes and imagined the lake. I imagined it cold and wet. I couldn't wait to swim.
I sighed, taking in all my own fantasies. I knew that it was right out there where my very own grandmother hid her treasure. My heart sank. The lake had dried up long, long ago.
I closed my eyes again and rested. I hadn't slept in days. I began to dose off. The bus jolted to a stop, waking me up.
"Get up!" The guard shouted.
"All right!" I shouted right back. "Don't have a conniption fit!"
The guard yanked me out of my seat harshly and pushed me down the aisle of the bus. I went quietly. All I saw when I stepped onto the dirt ground were boys. Where were all the girls? I didn't care; I just wanted a good night's sleep.
I looked around, finding myself in the middle of a desert, surrounded by holes. Boys kept pointing to me and talking excitedly to their friends. I soaked up all the attention while I could. I knew, as soon as they found out who I was, they'd steer clear of me.
"Well, well," said a tall, chunky man who stood over me, "if it isn't Rayven Barlow, the little girl who thinks she's big and bad like the boys."
"Whatever, dude," I yawned. "Just show me where I sleep."
"Well, Miss Barlow," he chuckled cruelly, "the name is Mr. Sir, not 'Dude'. And you, my little friend, will not be sleeping for quite a while."
I groaned, but Mr. Sir paid no attention. Instead, he showed me around Camp Green Lake. The more we walked, the more boys I saw. I hadn't seen a single female of my species since I left home, about a day before. I was starting to get worried, and my homesickness grew ever stronger.
"Excuse me, Mr. Sir," I interrupted, his speech about my grandmother getting tiresome, "but are there any other girls here but me?"
"Only the warden," he laughed coldly. "Only the warden… As I was saying…"
Mr. Sir kept talking, but my chin hit the ground. I was the only female camper? Why would the judge send someone like me to an all-boys' juvenile detention camp? He knew my reputation. I smiled inside. I could have fun here.
I waved to every guy who showed even a little interest in me. They waved back every time.
"Miss Barlow," said Mr. Sir, "this is Mr. Pendanski, your counselor."
"Hi," he beamed. I forced a smile. "You will be in Tent D. Come on, I'll introduce you to the boys."
I followed Pendanski. I couldn't wait to meet all these boys I would be sleeping in the same room with. Pendanski led me into a large, dark tent.
"Boys!" He called, and all seven looked at me. "This is Rayven. She will be camping here for a while. Now, I want all of you to treat her with the same respect you would treat each other."
A Latin boy gave me the traditional once-over.
"Respect is my middle name," he boasted, grinning.
"Come on, Magnet," said a stockier kid with curly hair. "That's not respect. Hi, Rayven, I'm Stanley, but people here call me Caveman."
"I'm Rayven," I said, shaking Stanley's hand, "and people call me… Rayven."
"We'll think of something," Caveman told me. He introduced me to the boys that surrounded him.
There was Armpit, a big black boy who never showered. There was Magnet, the kid who had made a move on me. There was Zigzag, a really tall and wacky kid with strange-looking hair. Then came X-Ray, a good-looking boy with thick glasses who seemed to know everything. Squid was another Latin boy who seemed to be a lot like Magnet. Finally was Zero, a cute little boy lurking in the corner. He couldn't have been a day over twelve.
"So Rayven," X-Ray said, "why are you here? What did you do?"
I smiled, knowing this was my hour of fame
"Do you guys get to watch the news?" Answers of "Yes" came from every side. "Ok, remember the story about the so-called Black Widow? That's me. My last name, if you didn't know, is Barlow. I'm Kissin' Kate Barlow's granddaughter, and I am carrying on her legacy. She was the most feared woman in the west. Now I am… was. Whatever. So, I basically did 'things' with guys, and then killed them. It was fun," I continued, "until I was caught. Imagine the look on my father's face when I was brought to the doorstep flanked by police officers. It was the most rewarding thing I had ever experienced. I knew I was an outlaw. It still feels great."
The boys were stunned. I knew they hadn't been expecting that.
"And you boys will be living in the same room with me until I'm eighteen. Then I'm off to California State Penitentiary."
"So," Magnet gulped, "how long will that be?"
"Not so cocky anymore, are you, Magnet?" I asked.
"Well, I," Caveman said, "think it's cool to have you here. Even if you did kill a few people."
"I have learned the error of my ways," I said dramatically. "Now I am looking for something real. I don't want to murder any more people. I want a quality relationship."
Everyone still looked scared. Everyone, that is, but Caveman. He looked intrigued. I knew then that I would have to keep a very close eye on this one. But he was cute. Maybe, I thought, I can get him to fall for me, and then scare the bejesus out of everybody when I kill him too. For now, though, I would have to put on an act. I had to act like I had learned my lesson. I smiled at Caveman, who predictably smiled back. I loved this. They always fawned over me.
Later, we went for dinner. It wasn't filet mignon, but then again, this wasn't Beverly Hills, either. I ate, and I listened. I discovered then that these boys had some interesting secrets. Caveman was talking in low whispers to Magnet next to me. I heard their conversation, but they didn't know it.
"She likes, you, man!" Magnet was saying. "Go for it. You don't meet a chick like that everyday around here, man."
"You're right…" Caveman said in response. "But her reputation is really bad."
"Look at her, Caveman."
He did.
"I guess it wouldn't be too awful," Caveman whispered, "tappin' that."
"Welcome to the Dark Side, my man."
They laughed.
"Hey, Rayven," Caveman sighed. "We'll be digging tomorrow. Want me to show you how it's done?"
"Definitely. As long as you promise to wait for me after I'm done so we can walk back to the tent together."
"You got it," he smiled.
I picked up my tray and left for the tent.
"I'll see you later, Caveman," I said seductively as I walked out.
Not too long afterwards, Caveman walked into the tent and sat down next to me. I had my poetry notebook open, so he asked what I was writing.
"You sure you want to know?" I asked. "You'd learn an awful lot about me. It's poetry. Most of it is dark… really dark."
"Read me one," he urged.
I sighed, and then read.
"You should not have judged by what you did not know.
Things are different from what they seem.
I may have come off as spooky, but you only knew a half.
Darkness on the outside,
And darkness on the in.
I wish you could have seen behind the make up to the person that I am.
But you never took the time.
Instead, you made it your life's mission to torture me.
By the end, I was fed up.
I yearned for destruction,
Your demise.
It came, that dark, damp morning.
You heard that thump and never thought it was I.
Your end came that cold mourning."
"Wow," Caveman breathed. "That was good. What's it called?"
"While God Wasn't Looking," I answered.
"Read another!"
I smiled.
"Must your poison kill me so?
You have murdered me, slowly, over the years.
But I am done.
Never will your venom reach another human soul.
You shall die this day.
Sleep in pieces, now and forever.
No sympathy for you.
Your lies were far too good to last.
Your blood is but fingerpaint upon my hands.
I wash it slowly, savoring the sensation.
Admire the stereotype I have become.
Murderer, psycho, freak.
They all seem to fit.
You enraged me beyond all reason.
Burn for eternity."
"So you killed because you were hurt?" Stanley realized aloud. "You're not a monster. You've just been emotionally traumatized."
"Sure," I said. "I guess so."
"And that was entitled…?"
"Pieces," I said. I found myself enjoying this boy's company. He admired my darkness, and I saw it. I liked the fact that he was interested in me. That had never happened before. Boys never really took the time to get to know me. They thought I was scary, or a stereotypical "Goth".
I hated that word. Goth. People always labeled me there. I wasn't a devil-worshiping freak of nature. I was an individual. And those Goths, I noticed, always wore chains and leather. It just wasn't me. I loved long, flowy dresses, like the ones from Renaissance days. The Industrial thing was trendy, and I was a non-conformist, so… wait, I am getting way off-track here! Wasn't I just talking about the Stanley kid? Yeah.
He was cute, too. He had this quirky smile that was kind of nerdy, yet really cute. I liked his eyes, too. They were hazel.
He and I sat there for five or ten minutes, just staring at each other. It was weird. He grinned, and then moved his face slowly towards mine. I closed my eyes and just let the inevitable happen. Stanley kissed me, and I kissed back. I dropped my notebook onto the floor. With my now empty hand, I pulled him closer to me. We fell back on my cot and just laid there. I finally broke off. I smiled at Stanley, and he smiled back. He took my hand in his.
"Rayven," he said, "I know we probably shouldn't get involved like this, but I don't really care right now. You're the only one for me."
I bit my bottom lip, thinking. I knew he wouldn't hurt me like the others had, but my defenses were still up. I sat up.
"I don't know, Stanley," I sighed. "I've been hurt in the past, and I promised myself I wouldn't subject myself to that anymore. Let me sleep on it, and we can talk tomorrow, ok?"
"Ok," Stanley replied. "I can definitely relate. People are coming back to the tent now, so I'm going to get to the other side of the tent."
"Good idea."
I picked my notebook back up off the floor and started to write. Sure enough, the boys filed in one by one, yawning and scratching their heads. Lights out was a mere five minutes away, and I wrote until then.
I didn't sleep at all that night. Honestly, I couldn't stop thinking about Caveman. It seems strange now, my thoughts at the beginning. I would have wanted so much to kill him when I had the chance. But I think everyone knows I didn't do that. I mean, really, people come on. You've read the book, haven't you? I just wasn't put in it, though. See, Louis Sachar didn't think it was a good idea to put a woman with my reputation in his book. But here I am, writing my own account as to what happened at Camp Green Lake… God, what is my obsession with getting off-topic??? Anywhom, I was already bonkers for this kid I'd just met. It wasn't like me! I didn't have feelings. Feelings were for weaklings, but there I was, with feelings… I wasn't as emotionless as I thought.
I woke up the next morning when the whistles blew, and rolled over with a groan. I had just finally fallen asleep no more than an hour before, and those damn whistles interrupted a decent dream. I sleepily got out of my bed, dressed, and headed out. I, being the rebel that I was, had cut my orange digging suit into a top and skirt. I was still wearing what I had to; I had just modified it to suit my needs. Mr. Sir glared at me when we lined up for "breakfast", if it could really have been called that. A woman cannot live on three pieces of bacon alone!
Caveman led me to where we'd be digging, and he showed me what was to be done. Five feet by five feet… I knew what we were looking for, and I also knew we'd never find it. My grandmother wasn't that dumb! I dug and sweat and drank water. The day passed quickly, it seemed. Although the sun beat down on us, we talked, and I thought. I thought about Caveman. He was a hard worker, and he kept glancing at me sporadically throughout the day. The other boys joked with one another, but the youngest, Zero, was unusually quiet. He was the first done. I gawked at him as he spat in his hole and trudged away.
"Zero's always the first done," Caveman told me. "You'll get used to it. We all have."
The other guys all grunted their responses.
I shrugged and kept working. As the day dragged on, the others finished one-by-one. Finally, as I had hoped, Caveman and I were the last two from our group to still be digging. We were nearly done, but the fact still remained: we were alone. Again. I smirked at him. He smirked back. We kept digging, until finally, the both of us climbed out of our holes. He helped me up out of the hole I'd dug. I brushed off my skirt and started to walk away, but Caveman grabbed my arm.
"You gotta spit in your hole," he said.
I shrugged, then spat in it, like Zero had. Caveman did the same, and we walked together back to camp. On our way back, Caveman slid his hand down my arm until his hand found mine. I looked at him and smiled. I really did like him. And for the first time in my life, I felt like he felt the same. He was the first boy to have true feelings for me. The two of us ate dinner, and then went back to the tent. The other boys, it seemed, could see our feelings for one another, so they left us alone.
"I want to be with you, Stanley," I said once we were alone.
He smiled.
"I want to be with you, too."
I sealed the deal with a kiss. That kiss… it was so wonderful… every time Caveman kissed me, it set my body aflame. I couldn't remember the last time a kiss made me feel like that.
We lay there on my cot for what seemed like hours, kissing, thinking, talking, and listening to each other breathe. Finally, we heard people coming, and Caveman kissed my forehead and went to his own cot.
That night, I did something I hadn't done in years. I cut myself. When I was younger, I had a bad habit of cutting my wrists. It was never for suicide, bleeding was just my way to feel alive. Well, I can't say it was never for suicide. There was that one time…
While I bled onto my cot, my mind flashed back to the day it happened…
The blade slid easily down my arm as I cried.
"I just want it to end," I whispered. I bled and bled and bled, and I knew I would never stop. I stumbled out of my bedroom and went into the bathroom. My vision was blurred and my reflection looked like someone else in the mirror. The whole room spun. I opened the medicine cabinet, looking, searching. I didn't know what I wanted, but I knew it would be here.
I snatched a pill bottle from the cabinet and slammed it shut. I filled up a glass of water, poured all the little blue pills into my hand and popped them into my mouth. I drank all the water in the glass, and the pills slid down my throat. 'Piece of cake,' I thought. 'Simple as that.' I stumbled back to my room and passed out on my bed, dropping the empty pill bottle.
VALIUM. 10mg. 30 pills.
If it hadn't been for my dad, I would have died that night. He came into my room-without knocking, as usual-and found me, passed out on my bed with an empty pill bottle next to me. He knew. If he didn't, he was stupid. He rushed me to the Emergency Room at St. Ann's and ten wonderful doctors saved me. I owe them my life.
So anyways, I cut myself again as I lay in bed, staring at the top of the tent. There was a sharp point off the side of my bed, and all I had to do was slide my wrist over it, and it broke skin. I felt that rush again that I had felt years before. I was still bleeding when I fell asleep.
The next morning, when we were called to wake, my arm felt so weak that I could barely lift myself out of bed. But at last, I dragged myself off my cot and out of the tent. We dug and dug all day, from sunrise to sunset. My arm felt like it was going to fall off from the pressure I was putting on it. When I finally finished digging, I dragged myself back to camp, Caveman at my side.
We hung out for while in the rec room before dinner. Caveman sat around with the guys and I sat near him, nursing my wound.
"What happened?" Caveman asked
"Cut myself while I was digging," I lied. "Hurts like hell, you know?"
"You didn't cut yourself while you were digging," X-Ray remarked.
My heart jumped.
"How do you know?" I demanded dangerously. "Were you watching me?"
"No. I heard you crying last night and talking in your sleep. I know about the sliver of metal on your cot. I used to use it, too."
He showed me his wrists as I felt my face get hot. The whole circle was glaring at me. I'd found my next victim.
That night, after dinner, I succumbed to Caveman's masculinity. We did it. Right there on my cot. It didn't take him very long before-
"Rayven, I'm sorry!"
"Caveman… it's okay. It takes awhile for people to get to know each other's bodies like that."
I smiled sweetly.
"We'll try again later," I told him.
We would never get a chance.
Now I was hungry for sex, so that night, when everyone was asleep, I crept to X-Ray's bed and climbed in.
"X-Ray," I whispered, "let's screw."
"Okay," he replied in a sleepy stupor.
And we did. I felt him push into me and we went for what seemed like hours before I finally hit my climax. Right after he'd reached his I plunged the metal I'd torn from my bed directly into his chest. He grunted. Blood spewed from his mouth and I climbed off him, pulling his still-erect member out of me. I know everyone in the tent saw me do it. They were all awake by that time, hearing the noises coming from X-Ray's bed.
"Why did you do it?" Caveman asked.
"He sold me out," I answered. "And I needed to kill again. I've never had sex without killing before, Stanley. And your heart is too pure to do that to."
So the next morning I was taken away, never to see or talk to any of those boys again. I kissed Caveman on the forehead and wished him luck.
"Call me," I told him. "When you get released. I'll be at California State Juvenile Facility for a few years, then to the penitentiary. I'll talk to you later. I… I love you!"
"I love you, too, Rayven!" he called as I was ushered into the squad car.
Now I'm sitting in California State Juvenile Facility. I talked to Caveman the other day. He'll be coming to see me sometime within the next week. He says he wants to update me on everything. What that means I just don't know. But I'll be off to the penitentiary in less than a year now… and I'll die there. They aren't going to give me the death sentence because I pleaded guilty to all 72 counts of first-degree murder I was charged with. Serves me right I guess.
But of all the memories I've lived in the past seventeen years of my life, the best came from Stanley "Caveman" Yelnats, while we were lying in my cot together, just listening to one another breathe… I do love him. But I'll never be able to be with him again…