You stared out the window of your car as it drove down the highway. The city, your house and your friends became farther and farther away from you. With every revolution of the wheels, everything you knew was slipping away from you, slowly but surely. It was a nice day and you would have rather been outside having fun, than being stuck in your car.
Sitting there, you endeavoured to clear your mind so that you weren't thinking of the circumstances. You weren't really thinking of ianything/i, just another droning teenager it seemed. It wasn't working so well, occasionally your mind slipped back into the present. Thinking of nothing wasn't easy, but you tried nonetheless. You stared off into space, letting all thoughts slip from your mind and float out the small crack from your slightly open window.
You noticed yourself biting your nails, one of your many bad habits. You reached a hand up to your head and scratched slightly at your scalp. You noticed your hair was getting long and you thought maybe due for a cut sometime soon. You had pretty much always had your hair short when you were younger thanks to your mother, but had recently started liking it long. You had dyed it for the first time a few months prior and it was way past growing out. It was black and your mom had hated it. You had washed your hair that morning and let it dry in its natural state, wavy. You weren't really a high maintenance kind of guy, wash and go was pretty much your style.
You were a simple guy but one that happened to ilove/i music and that usually showed in your clothes. Always donning some sort of band t-shirt or another. You had on one of your many GUNS N' ROSES shirts on and just some random pair of faded denim jeans. Nothing special, not like you had anyone to impress anyways.
You had your CD player on and predictably, some 80s metal band blared into your ears through your headphones. You swear you were born in the wrong decade, though you were only one year off; you loved everything about the 80s, except maybe the fashions and the hair. 80s hair was definitely something you were glad you didn't get to experience; leave the hairspray and teasing combs to your mom and sister. Oh, and don't forget the spandex.
You were absent-mindedly tapping your fingers on the door handle to the beat of the song, and mouthing the words like you always did. You always seemed to get lost in the music but you didn't care. Music was one of the most important things in your life; it was always there for you. And you were thankful you were able to create some of your own. It was your favourite creative outlet.
On the seat beside you, sat a big black leather duffel bag. Inside that bag were a lot of your belongings, CDs, clothes, basically all the things important to you. You were a pretty well off kid; nice house, nice parents and a nice college fund so why would iyou/ibe in a car with a bag of your possessions beside you?
You attempted to numb the current reality of your life in music, drowning yourself in GNR. IT just wasn't working. You were trying to escape the fact that you and your mother had left the wonderful, hot and familiar So-Cal weather and were en route to camp; iband camp/i to be exact. Who did she think she was, trying to pawn you off on some annoying, overly enthusiastic counselor for the summer? You knew it wasn't fair, but there wasn't too much you could do about it; she was leaving for a couple of weeks and didn't trust you by yourself in the house. Maybe rightly so, you thought as you recalled that party you threw. Simply known as 'that party'. It was the one where pretty much everyone in the neighbourhood showed up. You were istill/i finding cups and miscellaneous stuff from that party, but who would know to look in the pool filter, right?
You thought camp must be better than staying at home and being bored all summer, because that's all you would have been, ibored/i. Parties get old pretty fast, there are only so many nights you can have one and have it not be the same old thing. Plus ithis/i way you could make friends. You weren't the most social person in the world, but it was worth a shot.
You went back to looking out the window as your home got further and further away from you, and your doom got closer and closer. So you were a little pissed off at your mom; 'little' used loosely. Who wouldn't have been though? You could have been swimming with your friends, but instead you're stuck in a hot car on your way to be forced into situations where you ihad/i to make friends…
Awkward.
"Don't look so unhappy, Brian." your mother said with a smile, looking at you from the rear view mirror.
"Whaa?" you yelled, removing the buds from your ears for the first time, being brought back to reality and the fact that there was someone else in the car with you.
Mom.
"Well for one thing, turn your music down or you'll go deaf." she began, "And two, I said don't look so unhappy."
Easy for her to say, she wasn't the one being shipped off to fucking band camp. She had no idea; she had no right to tell you to be happy. You hated when people told you to like, look on the bright side or some bullshit because who were they to say anything; they weren't the ones who had to deal with whatever it was. People seriously have no idea what others go through, so why even bother trying to empathize? You could be quite the pessimist when you wanted to be.
"Well okay mom, how would iyou/i like being dumped off somewhere for the summer...away from all your friends?" you said rather heatedly, "Plus, not I have to try to make some new friends or else I'm going to just be known as 'that one kid who can't make friends'."
"I'm sure it won't be that bad, Brian."
"Mom, I'm almost a senior in high school, I know these things." you replied.
Her lips set in a thin line; one of the things you had learned to read about your mother, telling you she wasn't in the best spirits.
"Well, I'm sorry Brian, I thought it would be something you'd like, and it is a band camp." she said with a sigh, "Would you like me to turn around and for us to go home?"
Yes, you thought; actually you practically screamed it inside iyes, yes TAKE ME HOME!/i, but then you thought about it some more and it seemed she was only doing what she thought was best for you and it was a nice gesture, you had to commend her on that. Maybe you were overreacting…maybe.
She was irritated and you could tell, her eyes back on the road, brows furrowed in frustration. Admittedly, this was not something you were looking forward to but you were grateful for the opportunity.
"Nah mom, it's okay don't worry about it." you said, "I'm sorry, I should be more grateful."
You saw her expression soften and she actually smiled at you through the mirror, you then put your headphones back in your ears and continued staring out the window. There was nothing familiar about where you were then and you thought about it more. You were going to be gone…for the iwhole/i summer.
Pretty time seemed to fly by. In what seemed like fifteen minutes, you were driving up a long winding dirt road with little cabins lining it. You tilted your head up to see the tall, wooden overhead sign, iSMOKEY OAK BAND CAMP/i 'igreat/i', you thought, 'ieven the name is stupid/i'.
Your mother allowed the car to roll to a stop in a parking area full of people. She then took the key out of the ignition and set them on the dashboard. She turned around in her seat to look at you, the leather seat making a farting noise; and she looked at you as if to say, 'iwe're here!/i'
"Let's get your stuff out honey!" she said, a little too enthusiastically.
It made you wonder how much she wanted to get rid of you. She was only going to be gone for a week, two tops, and you were going to be gone for the whole summer. You only rolled your eyes and turned off your music wound up the cord and put the device in the pocket of your duffel bag. You squinted a little as you looked out the window of the car, to find others with their respective parents, unpacking and mingling. You thought you should probably go out and make an appearance, though it wasn't really your 'thing'.
Your mother got out of the car, and you grudgingly followed suit, scanning the area to see if there was anyone worth talking to. Shutting the door of the black Cadi, you slung your heavy duffel bag over your shoulder and walked around to the trunk of the car to retrieve your guitar and amp. With the trunk wide open and your gear fully exposed, you mentally cursed your mom. iThis is expensive shit, don't just leave it for any fool to steal/i; you were really protective of your equipment and she knew that too. You didn't see your mother right away, but you finally spotted her, talking to a woman with shorter curly blond hair and red spandex shorts. She had a young boy, about your age by her side. The boy was shorter than you, with short brown hair and he appeared to be holding a bass. You knew this because the case was rather large, it actually was about two-thirds the size of him, and you laughed a little at the sight. Walking over to the three of them, you stood by your mother's side as she and the woman conversed.
You knew they were talking, but you were still a little angry about your gear. During a lull in their conversation, you spoke up.
"Hey mom, can you inot/i leave the trunk wide open with my stuff inside?"
"Oh." your mother said looking back to see that you had in fact, closed the trunk, "I'm so sorry, honey; I saw one of my old high school friends and I got distracted when we started taking."
"This is Kathy Seward and her son John."
You acknowledged them both with a nod and a smile then continued looking around the area for anyone who looked your age, and cool.
"I think John is around your age… Kathy?" your mother turned to the woman and waited in question.
"He's a year younger." she said smiling.
"Hey, I'm Brian." you said to him, he smiled in return.
"I went to school with Mrs. Haner." Mrs. Seward to her son, he nodded and smiled at your mother.
This John kid was not the talkative type you got that right away. That was fine with you though, you didn't like people that talked too much; it annoyed you. People that always talked about themselves, iif I want to know…I'll ask/i, you'd think. You really didn't like people all that much; you enjoyed the pleasure of your own company most of the time.
You looked to him and he smiled and you smiled back. You shielded your eyes with your right hand as your mother and Mrs. Seward continued to talk.
There eventually was another, and somewhat longer, lull in the conversation during which, your mother turned to you and looked at you and John.
"Maybe you two can be friends at camp." your mother said smiling looking back and forth between you and the other boy.
You looked at your mother and then at the referenced boy beside you.
"Sure." you said half-heartedly.
You weren't really there to make friends, you were there to get the summer over with so you could go back to you home and go to the beach with your real friends. Well maybe they had a beach here but you sincerely doubted it, and plus home sounded so good at that moment. But you thought the kid just might be cool, only time would tell. First impressions are really everything and his seemed to rank high, though he was the only person you had met.
"Well I think it's time that I should leave; they said they were starting the welcome thingy at twelve and it's now." your mother said pausing to check her watch, "Eleven forty five."
"Yeah okay, mom, I'm just going to go get my stuff." you said as you walked over to the car and popped the trunk, retrieving your favourite Gibson-guitar and Epiphone-amp; they were your babies. They were great, but your favourite one was your white Les Paul, to you there was no better guitar. Since it was your favourite though, you were smart enough to not bring it there, you didn't know what kind of fucktards were out there, ready to snatch it up.
You checked to make sure you had gotten everything you needed out of the trunk, and that's when you noticed that John had followed you over there.
"So…" he said, slightly awkward, "What kind of music you like?"
You laughed, shutting the trunk; this kid really wasn't the best at making small talk. Though you were never really one much for it either. Just something pointless to pass the time you thought. Setting your things on the ground, you turned to him and smiled. iMight as well make some effort/i, you thought. You stood up and leaned against the trunk of the car and he did the same
"Mostly 80s metal or some 90s metal. What about you, John?" You reached down and grabbed your bag. Adjusting the strap of your duffel bag, making it more comfortable, you awaited his answer.
"Oh, same kind of stuff." he said, "I like some rap too."
'iRap eh, that's not too bad, this kid was cool/i', you thought.
"Oh and one more thing." he said with a crooked smile, "Call me Johnny; I hate when people call me John."
You smiled and let a laugh trickle past your lips, you pulled the strap higher on your shoulder. You knew there was going to be a mark later.
"Okay." you said with a smirk, "Johnny it is. It would be kind of cool if we were in the same cabin, you seem like a real laid back guy; I think you just gotta open up more, y'know?"
"Me too." he said as the two of you walked over to your mothers, who continued to jabber on about 'that one time when Tommy Rackam asked your mother out and it was ithe most/i'.
Moms.
"And yeah I'm not too good with people when I first meet them."
"Yeah me neither, kind of more reserved until I really know someone."
It seemed you and he had things in common, which was promising.
Your mother and Mrs. Seward continued talking until she saw that you and Johnny were standing there, waiting for them to wrap it up.
Johnny looked to you and rolled his eyes, you tried to stifle a laugh, which got the attention of your maternal annoyance. She finally turned to you and smiled, looking back Johnny's mom who was also smiling.
"Well, I guess I'll be going now." your mother said, "It was lovely talking to you, Kathy; we need to get together soon."
"You too, and yes, we will." the woman answered.
Your mother and you left the other pair and walked over to the car. You faced her and she had a saddened expression on her face, maybe she wasn't so eager to get rid of you. That was reassuring. You set your bag down on the ground and smiled.
"I'll see you at the end of the summer; will you write?" your mother said, pulling you to her and giving you a hug.
You scoffed in her almost deadly tight grip.
"Sure, mom."
"Good." she said, pulling back to look you in the eyes.
You swore you could see a faint glimmer of tears in her eyes, but it was gone quickly, blinked off into oblivion.
"I'm going to miss you Brian."
"I'm going to miss you too mom."
She smiled and with that, she was walking her way to the car that she had brought you to this place in. But you had already warmed up to the whole idea; it might not turn out to be that bad. Plus with this Johnny kid, you thought things were going to go a lot smoother than you had imagined. The ignition was started and she began to back out of the parking area. She gave a wave and blew a kiss to you, and then she was out of there… out of your life for the whole summer. Johnny's mother had gone too; you though they had said their goodbyes the same time as you. You turned around and the two of you walked over to each other and you shrugged.
"So." you said, "What the hell do we do now?"
iWhere no one knows my name/i