I pulled out a white T-shit and grinned. It had an adorable smiling sun on it and Noah had bought it for me on my fifteenth birthday. He was so sweet, so I pulled it on. I shoved some sunglasses on and painted my nails gold. It was around about ten o'clock. I had slept in due to my total lack of sleep last night. True, I may had angrily screwed up my eyes when the fanfare screeched at me to wake up, and forced myself to go back to sleep, but I mean I wasn't exactly stressing myself to watch diggers. So I lay in and only rolled out of bed, yawning, at a time which I had to guess to be quarter to ten. This still was ridiculously early for summer holidays but miles better than half past bloody four. I had abandoned the wearing of shoes that had blistered my feet (stupid red Dorothy-like shoes) to go bare footed and I felt the sandy dirt crunching between my toes as I made my way around the Camp. So if it was ten o'clock, the boy's would no doubt still be digging. I ran my fingers across the shiny metal of my Aunt's car, quickly retreating from the action when my fingers began to scold. The dust was closing my throat and making it feel as if I'd swallowed a jar of sand.

Oh dear god.

Two hours later and I was sprawled across the bonnet, tongue lolling, arms flung out in surrender to the heat, a ridiculous song in my head.

You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

Someone walked past me and did a double take.

"What the freak Is wrong with you?" came the hoarse, yet slightly worried voice of Mr. Sir. I wasn't surprised, I must have looked like I was dead, draped over the bonnet like that. Slowly I sat up

"I'm okay," I said, my voice stupidly rough and scratchy. I coughed to clear it but it only hurt. He rolled his eyes.

"Don't bloody do that," he said, sighing in relief. I cocked my head. Was this my attempted murderer, worrying about me? "come on, you need something cold," I slowly slid off the bonnet and followed him into his little building. He walked around the back of his desk to a little dingy mini fridge. He opened the door and took out something that nearly made me faint with disbelief and absolute thankfulness. All my previous hostility and doubt of his kindness instantly vanished when he handed me the bottle, wet with condensation and wonderfully cold. As I unscrewed the top, the hiss of released pressure was like a golden harp stringing a sweet melody. I sighed in contentment. I had never thought I would be so ecstatic over a drink, but it was the content that excited me so much. As I gulped down the sweet, soft liquidy liquid I smiled appreciatively.

"How did you know?" I asked when the bottom was empty in mere milliseconds.

"Know what?" Mr. Sir walked around the office, shuffling papers and checking the fridge was plugged in.

"Elderflower is my one weakness," I said sighing, and turning the empty bottle in my hands, willing it to fill up again. I was astounded that of all the things in the world to have in, they had Elderflower. I mean it wasn't as if they could nip down to the corner store and stock up. They'd have to ration their choices, only picking vital stocks, I couldn't see Elderflower being top on the list. Unless I was the one picking the rations, but clearly as I wasn't, I was amazed. "I love the stuff," It was true my obsession with Elderflower was known throughout England. I had once, to the utmost embarrassment and shame of my mother, been asked to leave a shop because I had snatched the last Elder cordial from someone's shopping basket. The stupid woman, who clearly didn't need the drink as much as I did, she could get any other drink in the world, but I truly, madly, honestly had to have it, complained to the shop. My week had been ridiculously awful, and all I wanted was to have my drink to chill me out and this fag of a lady decided to whinge and moan

"Excuse me," she had said in her irritating, stupid, nasally voice. "But that was in my basket,"

"No," I had replied "You must be mistaken. For it was in my basket and you stole it,"

"What?" she had shrilly protested "No, no, no. It was in my basket and you took it from me!" she cried.

"I am afraid you are, once more, incorrect. This here," I pointed to the drink "is needed in my system. Therefore it is part of me. Therefore it is mine. How can I steal something that is mine? It is physically impossible. It's logic. You can't argue with logic, if you are then you're going to have to take it up with the scientists of the world. In the meantime, I'll be taking this," I turned to go when I heard her scuttle off (rather like a scorpion) to complain to one of the shop assistants.

"Fucking hell," I muttered. "Look," I said when the assistant had asked me if I had removed items from Scorpion Woman's basket and claimed them as mine, "I actually need this stuff. I'm moving soon and the stress of it all is going to need the calming traits of Elderflower, I do not care if this woman is about to poop out a toy car. I need it more." True I could have bought it somewhere else, but with Noah crying in another aisle that he wanted to go home, mum moaning she needed to pack and iron and everything and the stupid insistence of my parents not letting me leave the house until 'everything was sorted', this really was my last chance of getting the stuff. I had to be 'escorted' to the main office and my mum called on the loud fuzzly speaker that her daughter was 'causing a disruption with other shoppers'. Which was bull. If she hadn't of complained I would have had no problems and not casued a so called disruption. But she had, so I snapped my teeth at her like a little snipping turtle and she cowered. Ha. That served her right, as I didn't get my drink in the end and this was the first time I'd had the glorious Elderflower since setting foot on American soil.

"You and your Aunt have that in common," Mr.Sir said gruffly. Then why didn't she keep it in her own fridge? I wondered. Maybe, like me, the temptation was too much and she had to keep it guarded till the next load got delivered. I smirked. And started humming

You make me happy

When skies are grey.

But after being shot a death glare from Mr. Sir warning me never to be cheerful, I stopped pretty sharpish. He told me that if I kept up my joyful attire I was easier pray, if I adopted a harder more serious outlook, then I was more likely to scare people off. I pooh poohed his idea, commenting that it would make me into a stressy old friendless bitch, the exact moment Lou stepped into the building. She raised her eyebrows, obviously believing that I was referring to her, which was only half true. I had her in mind when I was speaking but it wasn't a direct insult.

"I was wondering where you've been," she said looking at me with an unimpressed expression. "I was hoping you could help me with something?"

I hesitated, what could she want?

Me to feed her pet snake with my own arm or something?

"Erm…yeah sure," I answered uncertainly.

"Great," she said clapping her hands together and showing her pointed teeth when she smiled. I realised when this happened she was anything but sincerely happy. I followed her outside to her car, where a bucket of water and a dirty old black cloth lay. "It needs a bit of a clean," she said smiling sweetly (Note: Sarcasm)

'A bit' being the official understatement of the day. That car was more coated in dusty dirt than X-Ray's glasses.

"Um okay," I said. At least this would give me and Lou some time together, I could even water the seed I had so mastermindedly planted earlier. Oh this could be very beneficial. I bent down to pick up the dirty foul smelly rag she had given me to clean the car and grimaced, this would make the bloody thing even dirtier. I turned to begin my subtle reassurance that my mum was awesome, to only find my Aunt had buggered off, probably to reapply another fucking coat of rattlesnake varnish. One day I was seriously going to nick that and hide it somewhere. Like the fridge, then when she's totally wound herself up and got into a withdrawal frenzy, I may casually mention I put it in the fridge to give it longer life. She couldn't have a go, cause I would only be trying to be nice. Hmmm, that sounded good, revenge would have to wait though. Because I had a freaking car to wash.

Note to self: Aunt Lou is a bitch

Boy's are assholes

I hate washing cars

These were three important points to get me through Camp Nightmare. If I never had to wash another car, see another boy or talk to Lou ever again, I may possibly survive these three long months. She had left me to scrub and scrape and wipe at her stupid dirty car and when I had done that she had the nerve to give me car polish. I nearly told her where to stick it, but caught myself. God knows what she'd do to me. The Asshole's had taken up their tacky wolf whistles when they saw me washing the car. I grimaced, I probably looked like a slutty dancer in a bad music video, covered in soap bubbles messing around on the bonnet. Not that I was messing around on the bonnet. Well not on purpose. They probably thought I was thrusting my chest towards it for their own entertainment when in fact I was actually trying to remove my t-shirt which had got caught in the crack without ripping it and looking like a tit. Thinking about it though, i looked more like a tit from tugging at the material, than if I'd have just casually sat there and waited till they had passed. Lucky for Aunt Lou I didn't get any polish on my top, or else hell would have had lesser fury than me. Tired from a hard (half) day's work I thought about my options. I could trudge back into the cabin and face Lou, hang out with Mr. Sir and the counsellors (fun) risk my luck with the boys, or slowly and quietly curl up and die in a hole. Just as I was contemplating I saw Mr. Sir stop and look at me.

"Been put to work already?" he asked chuckling at me. I however, failing to see the comical side, just glared at him, choosing to hang with the guys. I stood outside the tent for a moment wondering if I should knock or not. I went in when I realised there was nothing to knock on and stopped in my tracks.

Where the hell were they?

It was empty. I sighed and walked back out grumbling to myself. On the way back I noticed the Wreck room.

Hmmmm.

Did I dare?

Pen had said himself that that's where the entertainment on Camp was. But I dare not enter alone. That would be suicide, even I was smart enough to see that.

"Mr. Sir!" I shouted when I was at the door of the Wreck room. He turned from inspecting my job on the car and I beckoned him over hurriedly. I saw him roll his eyes dramatically and throw his arms back in irritation. "Will you come in with me?" I asked once he had trudged over, grumbling.

"No," he said simply. I gaped at him.

"What?" I asked in disbelief "You can't expect me to go inside on my own?" I asked, widening my eyes in irritation. He shrugged un-interestedly.

"Then don't go in," he answered and started walking away, his gun bashing softly against his hip

"Hold it!" I said with such command that he actually spun to face me and raised an eyebrow in questioning. "I have an idea," I elaborated "You give me the gun," I pointed to it. He laughed. At what I still don't know.

"No way lil' lady," he said smugly "I need this," he patted said gun "To protect me from Yella Spotted lizards,"

My turn to raise the eyebrows . "Okay, shall we just look at this?" I asked "Shall the gun go to the helpless small young girl against a gang of sex/girl deprived criminal dudes who has no other defence? Or the scary cowboy dude with big clompy cowboy boots against a small lizard who could easily be squooshed by said boots?" I placed a hand on a hip to emphasise the ridiculousness of the situation he was suggesting. Slowly (and mutteringly) but surely, he removed his shotgun from the holster and placed it in my hand. I grinned from ear to ear I couldn't believe it had actually worked! My reasoning had actually had an effect and won me an argument.

Freaking hell, maybe all this sun was good for me.

Pffft.

So I smiled at Mr. Sir and turned to open the door of the wreck room.

"I'm crazy aren't I?" he asked me before I opened it. I turned and thought about the question.

"Without a singular doubt," I answered as politely as I could to someone who had tried to kill me. "They say you get crazier with age," I said shrugging. He looked at me lividly and I realised he must have thought i had just called him old. Me? Call some crazy scary gun-wilding cowboy old? Shoot. "I mean I'm not saying you're old you're just…youthfully challenged." I said trying to amend it, probably hopelessly.

To the relieved amazement of myself and all those who would suffer his wrath, he began laughing. True it was a scary croaky unfriendly laugh. But at least he wasn't wrapping his fingers around my neck and squeezing mercilessly. I smiled back, although it probably looked rather forced, considering it was. And turned to face my next test. The entire criminal side of the camp on my own. No supervision. Anything could happen. At least I had the gun to protect me. I inhaled deeply and pushed the door.

Dun dun dun!
xox