Author's notes, and all of the preliminary nonsense: Let me just start off
by saying that none of this is mine, except Andrea Dean, a character that I
made up all on my own. Go me. Also, when I put this story down on paper, I
thought that it was an original idea, but then I checked, and saw that
there were about two hundred twenty stories written about the exact same
thing. However, I needed a break from the Harry Potter scene, so I figured
I would give this a try. So please, keep in mind that I know that all of
this has been done before, but I suppose I'm merely hoping that I can do it
better. Thanks for reading. -JaQ.
- - -
"Guilty." The judge's final word rang in her ears as the dull thunk of the gavel on his desk closed every last window of hope she had left. She flinched at the word, unable to believe that it was true. It had been little more than a month ago that she had been at the tip of her game, living only for the adrenaline rush that filled her every time she. . .
"Miss Andrea Dean," the judge began again, after a moment of tense silence. "It appears that you have two options: Camp Crystal, or a juvenile detention center in Nevada for the next six months."
Camp Crystal? Andrea thought incredulously. It sounded like a place where little girls ran around, singing campfire songs between bouts of rabid pillow fights, and braiding friendship lanyards that read "WWJD?"
"Well, your honor," she said, a mock meekness in her voice, "I suppose that Camp Crystal is the best place that I can think to go at this moment."
With a sigh, running his hand wearily across the back of his neck, the judge nodded. "Very well then. A short recess is granted so that I may make the call and see if they will grant your mother permission to send you there on such short notice."
The bailiff motioned for everyone to rise as the world-wearied judge exited to his chambers, the click of the door echoing ominously in Andrea's head.
An anxious murmur fell over the courtroom moments later. Andrea slumped back into her chair, brushing a damp bit of brown hair from her eyes. The scorching July heat threatened to choke the last breath from her lungs as sweat rolled down her back and dampened her palms. However, she knew that the heat was the least of her troubles at the moment. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she cursed inwardly. She had gone for so long, thinking that nothing could ever happen to her, that she couldn't be touched, and now, here was, sitting in a cramped courtroom as she awaited her fate. Hearing the door opening again, she leapt to her feet, prompting a scornful look from her mother in the front row. Andrea watched as the haggard looking judge took his seat once more.
"Andrea Dean, it seems that there are no vacancies at Camp Crystal," he announced.
Andrea felt her stomach turned to ice as she gaped in horror. She tried for several moments to speak, but a strangled sound was all that came of it.
"However, there is an opening at another camp, and I gave them a call. They seemed willing enough to take you in."
A smile suddenly plastered itself to her face. She was as god as free, being sent to a summer camp for a few months, and her slap on the wrist was over and dome with. "I-I'll take it!" she managed to stammer through her sudden relief.
"Very well then, " the judge replied, shuffling his papers and placing them in a manila folder. "Miss Andrea Dean, I hereby sentence you to twenty-two months at Camp Green Lake," and with another thud of the gavel, the court was adjourned.
Andrea rushed out, but was caught in a tight embrace as soon as she was out the door. Gasping for breath, she pulled away, looking into Mrs. Dean's red, tear-stained eyes. Amazed, Andrea hugged her again; thankful for the first contact she'd had with her mother in a month.
***
"My, my, Miss American Pie, put the Chevy to the levy ."
With a groan, Andrea shifted in the hot plastic seat. She had been endlessly tormented with the off-key renditions of "Sweet Home Alabama," "Hey Jude," "I Wanna Hold Your Hand," and many, many more, courtesy of the ancient bus driver, coupled with the chainsaw snores of the portly security guard sitting next to him. It had been the longest day of her life, complete with a plane trip, a gruesome three-hour layover in Chicago, yet another lengthy flight, and finally, a bus drive through the desolate Texan wasteland that stretched before her. The stark contrast of the barren desert, devoid of the Detroit skyscrapers that she held dear, burned Andrea's eyes. In this place, you could see for miles, instead of just down the street, and the sun's heat felt magnified on her skin.
Numbly, she stared out the window, squinting against the sun's harsh radiance. Blinking, she stared out at the quickly passing ground beneath her. There were holes, oddly shaped and scattered like frightened rabbits strewn about the land. With wide eyes, she peered into them, catching a glance at each as the bus sped past. For a split second, as she passed another hole, she saw a yellow lizard, staring lazily up at her and mocking her from its shady retreat. But then, the hole disappeared from sight, and the lizard was gone. As she kept driving, Andrea watched as the holes became less scattered, the odd shapes melting into perfect circles, almost in neat rows. With a slight sigh, she settled back into the seat, hoping against hope that this was just a little town that she was passing through.
With a rough tap to her shoulder, Andrea jerked slightly, and looked up at the guard, who was beckoning her to stand up. Tossing a glance out the window, she saw that they had stopped, but hadn't remembered slowing down.
"We .we stopped. Bathroom break?" Andrea asked with a smile. But, the guard just peered down at her from the rim of his sunglasses, and her smile faded. "Right then," she said to no one but herself.
Andrea grabbed her backpack and stood up, wincing at the nose her sweaty skin made as she pulled away from the seat. She ambled toward the front of the bus, ignoring the annoyed stare of the guard at her slow pace. With a fleeting gaze out of the window, she watched as several dirty faces crowded around the bus, as several more walked in wearily, clutching shovels. The people crowded around the bus watched the door and windows intently, waiting to see who or what would emerge. At last, she stepped down the stairs, the heat of the day slamming into her like a brick wall.
Several of the grubby bodies jumped back as soon as her footsteps sounded on the cracked earth, while others watched with perplexed stares. Andrea stared back at them suspiciously, glancing at each individual in turn. Andrea felt her heart race with confusion as she looked around her, desperately looking at each, but coming to the same conclusion every time: there was not a girl to be seen. She stared, eyes wide with horror at the sign above a nearby cabin in peeling jade letters that read: "Welcome to Green Lake Boy's Camp."
- - -
"Guilty." The judge's final word rang in her ears as the dull thunk of the gavel on his desk closed every last window of hope she had left. She flinched at the word, unable to believe that it was true. It had been little more than a month ago that she had been at the tip of her game, living only for the adrenaline rush that filled her every time she. . .
"Miss Andrea Dean," the judge began again, after a moment of tense silence. "It appears that you have two options: Camp Crystal, or a juvenile detention center in Nevada for the next six months."
Camp Crystal? Andrea thought incredulously. It sounded like a place where little girls ran around, singing campfire songs between bouts of rabid pillow fights, and braiding friendship lanyards that read "WWJD?"
"Well, your honor," she said, a mock meekness in her voice, "I suppose that Camp Crystal is the best place that I can think to go at this moment."
With a sigh, running his hand wearily across the back of his neck, the judge nodded. "Very well then. A short recess is granted so that I may make the call and see if they will grant your mother permission to send you there on such short notice."
The bailiff motioned for everyone to rise as the world-wearied judge exited to his chambers, the click of the door echoing ominously in Andrea's head.
An anxious murmur fell over the courtroom moments later. Andrea slumped back into her chair, brushing a damp bit of brown hair from her eyes. The scorching July heat threatened to choke the last breath from her lungs as sweat rolled down her back and dampened her palms. However, she knew that the heat was the least of her troubles at the moment. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she cursed inwardly. She had gone for so long, thinking that nothing could ever happen to her, that she couldn't be touched, and now, here was, sitting in a cramped courtroom as she awaited her fate. Hearing the door opening again, she leapt to her feet, prompting a scornful look from her mother in the front row. Andrea watched as the haggard looking judge took his seat once more.
"Andrea Dean, it seems that there are no vacancies at Camp Crystal," he announced.
Andrea felt her stomach turned to ice as she gaped in horror. She tried for several moments to speak, but a strangled sound was all that came of it.
"However, there is an opening at another camp, and I gave them a call. They seemed willing enough to take you in."
A smile suddenly plastered itself to her face. She was as god as free, being sent to a summer camp for a few months, and her slap on the wrist was over and dome with. "I-I'll take it!" she managed to stammer through her sudden relief.
"Very well then, " the judge replied, shuffling his papers and placing them in a manila folder. "Miss Andrea Dean, I hereby sentence you to twenty-two months at Camp Green Lake," and with another thud of the gavel, the court was adjourned.
Andrea rushed out, but was caught in a tight embrace as soon as she was out the door. Gasping for breath, she pulled away, looking into Mrs. Dean's red, tear-stained eyes. Amazed, Andrea hugged her again; thankful for the first contact she'd had with her mother in a month.
***
"My, my, Miss American Pie, put the Chevy to the levy ."
With a groan, Andrea shifted in the hot plastic seat. She had been endlessly tormented with the off-key renditions of "Sweet Home Alabama," "Hey Jude," "I Wanna Hold Your Hand," and many, many more, courtesy of the ancient bus driver, coupled with the chainsaw snores of the portly security guard sitting next to him. It had been the longest day of her life, complete with a plane trip, a gruesome three-hour layover in Chicago, yet another lengthy flight, and finally, a bus drive through the desolate Texan wasteland that stretched before her. The stark contrast of the barren desert, devoid of the Detroit skyscrapers that she held dear, burned Andrea's eyes. In this place, you could see for miles, instead of just down the street, and the sun's heat felt magnified on her skin.
Numbly, she stared out the window, squinting against the sun's harsh radiance. Blinking, she stared out at the quickly passing ground beneath her. There were holes, oddly shaped and scattered like frightened rabbits strewn about the land. With wide eyes, she peered into them, catching a glance at each as the bus sped past. For a split second, as she passed another hole, she saw a yellow lizard, staring lazily up at her and mocking her from its shady retreat. But then, the hole disappeared from sight, and the lizard was gone. As she kept driving, Andrea watched as the holes became less scattered, the odd shapes melting into perfect circles, almost in neat rows. With a slight sigh, she settled back into the seat, hoping against hope that this was just a little town that she was passing through.
With a rough tap to her shoulder, Andrea jerked slightly, and looked up at the guard, who was beckoning her to stand up. Tossing a glance out the window, she saw that they had stopped, but hadn't remembered slowing down.
"We .we stopped. Bathroom break?" Andrea asked with a smile. But, the guard just peered down at her from the rim of his sunglasses, and her smile faded. "Right then," she said to no one but herself.
Andrea grabbed her backpack and stood up, wincing at the nose her sweaty skin made as she pulled away from the seat. She ambled toward the front of the bus, ignoring the annoyed stare of the guard at her slow pace. With a fleeting gaze out of the window, she watched as several dirty faces crowded around the bus, as several more walked in wearily, clutching shovels. The people crowded around the bus watched the door and windows intently, waiting to see who or what would emerge. At last, she stepped down the stairs, the heat of the day slamming into her like a brick wall.
Several of the grubby bodies jumped back as soon as her footsteps sounded on the cracked earth, while others watched with perplexed stares. Andrea stared back at them suspiciously, glancing at each individual in turn. Andrea felt her heart race with confusion as she looked around her, desperately looking at each, but coming to the same conclusion every time: there was not a girl to be seen. She stared, eyes wide with horror at the sign above a nearby cabin in peeling jade letters that read: "Welcome to Green Lake Boy's Camp."