The dust rolled into a great cloud as the bus drove far into the middle of nowhere. Camp Green Lake wasn't green. It wasn't a lake. And it was no camp. Instead, it was a detention center for boys- or rather a "rehabilitation" center- but its newest troubled youth was no boy.
The fair-skinned, blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty sat staring out the window.
She had a strange feeling about her. Not fear. She had learnt to overcome that weakness. It was more a sense that this wasnt just any road to nowhere. This was the road to nowhere. She was numb. Nothing mattered. Now she just had to live; Functioning like a machine. Because death would be the easy way out. And she didn't want to give anyone the satisfaction that she had given up.
As the bus came nearer to the camp, she saw some of who her new companions were going to be. Boys with shovels were digging, deep in concentration, that is until their ears met the sound of the motor. As their faces looked up she noticed how some were smiling at the thought of fresh meat while some were solemn at the thought of a new conflict. However, it seemed that none of them were reacting to the opposite gender entering their territory. They weren't able to see through the gritty windows or past the bright, merciless sun.
Entering the camp, she heard shouting, saw pushing, and felt the heat worse than ever. It was like a lamb walking into a pack of hungry wolves. But she had no fear. Eleven months she had to spend here. She'd show them that she wasn't who they thought she was. She would not show weakness. She would not be prey. Instead, she would act like a shark. Silent. Dormant. Until someone dared to reach their hand out.
Stepping down from the bus she heard only the bus engine. All over the camp, the bustle of kids came to a stand still. Boys stared with wide-eyes or smirks. They were the enemy. The sound of footsteps shook her from her thoughts of survival as a man in sunglasses with a clipboard and cowboy hat came walking.
"Barlow, Katherine," he spit sunflower seeds onto the ground and looked Kate up and down. She didn't like him. He looked her right in the eyes and directed his words straight to her. "My name is Mr. Sir and that is exactly how you will refer to me. Not Mister. Not Sir. You understand that, Miss. Barlow?"
Kate said nothing. She simply glared with a piercing stare that told you exactly what she thought of you. Mr. Sir did not react. He sat for a moment, contemplating whether to correct her for not responding, but thought better of threatening the daggers that were staring at him. "Follow me," he said.
They started toward the far side of the camp with the guard. She couldn't help but hear the murmurs and whispers. She saw the pointing fingers. She felt uncomfortable, yet she showed nothing. He told her to stay outside while he entered the tent. He came out with two bright orange jumpsuit and a canteen. "Take these," he grunted. "Go in there and put one on."
Wrapped inside the jumpsuit was a white tank top and a pair of black shorts. The tank was a little tight, but what was she going to do? Complain?
Next they walked next door into a cabin. It was cool as a fan swirled and rotated. Mr. Sir handed the guard a soda and sat back into the rolling chair behind a desk.
"Was on trial for man-slaughter, theft, and drug possession?" he paused and looked over the clip board. "Well, aint you a barrel of sunshine?" He set the board down and grabbed some more sunflower seeds. "Now, we don't usually take in girls. This is obviously a boys rehabilitation center. What Im saying is that we will not turn this into a girl scout camp. You will be treated the same as the others. You will be given the same privileges or lack of privileges like the others including shower tokens, tent meetings, and rec room use. You, however, will not be housed with your tent mates and you will not use the camps average showers. The Warden will go over other rules and regulations with you seeing the situation is unusual to our camp. Do you understand so far?" he stared at her.
She looked back into his eyes.
"Yes, Mir. Sir." Her voice was cold even in the thick, hot Texas air.
He nodded though his face gave away that he was questioning the sincerity. "The uniform you are holding and are wearing will be your only clothes."
The gravel outside was crunching under tires. Mr. Sir head shot to the window and tensed.
"Didn't think she'd be here so early," came a woman's voice outside the door.
"Yeah, well, who can tell with the legal system these days?" A man was with her.