It's time to let go of this endless summer afternoon.
Alexander Grim.
Los Angeles, California.
I didn't think I'd get this bad. But physically, mentally, emotionally... I'm drained.
Three days. That's all I had to get through. Without... without anything to help me out. They took my cigarettes, my meds, everything. Stripped me down to the bone and forced me to confront the darker side of myself, and what I see makes me sick.
I'm just another kid who's not good enough. Believe it or not, there was a time when I was supposed to be successful. I was an A-student all through middle and the beginning of high school, and a half-decent ball player too. If my grades didn't get me into college, baseball would.
But circumstances change, ambition flames out, and I guess some people just aren't destined for success, anyway. Now I fail at everything I try. I'm a shit brother and a shit son. No good at school. No good at love.
It doesn't help that Audrey always makes everything so confusing. Ever since prom, she's been avoiding me and has made it impossible to talk. Even within our small group she's distant and unreachable, distracted by who knows what.
Having her so close and yet so far is infuriating. I blame her wholly for the way we turned out… and yet I can't hate her. Not entirely. Not when there's still a flame flickering between us.
Fucking hell. I really am pathetic.
I've had no appetite all week, and today is no different. Gwen, Yuto, and Shane, on the other hand, have no problem stacking sandwiches and digging in as soon as we reach our table. I try sipping a glass of iced tea, but it's flavorless and lukewarm. I end up leaving it half-empty in front of me while I dissociate, letting outside conversations wash over me and swallow me whole.
A few minutes of tense silence pass before Yuto stirs me out of my slumber. "What's wrong with you, Grim?"
"Huh?" I shake my head, coming back to the present. "Nothing. Tired, you know?"
"You look a bit ill," Gwen points out.
Maybe I am. "Yeah. I'm going to go get some air. Feels too stuffy." I'm on my feet in an instant, leaving my tray and drink behind and all but running out the door.
Once I'm outside, though, I realize I have no idea where to go. Back to my cabin, maybe, although it's warmer in there than anywhere else on the site. Still, I'll have a somewhat comfortable bed to stay in. Maybe laying down will help me clear my mind, anyways.
Too late, I realize someone else had the same idea.
Stretching her arms over her head as she comes out of her room, mouth wide and eyes squeezed shut in a comfortable yawn, Audrey doesn't see me for the first few seconds I lay eyes on her. In that time, I see her the way I first saw her. As someone beautiful and ethereal, who's never cared much for others' opinions and for that, sometimes seems to be godly and unattainable.
But that quickly gives way to a hurricane of frustration and fury and unforgivingness. She wasn't the girl I thought she was when I asked her to prom. She turned out colder and a cheater. My body clenches with anger at the memory of how hopeless and loveless she made me feel.
When she finally notices me, she stops short.
"Alex," she says, uncomfortable. Her hair spirals around her head in a messy ponytail. Apparently she forgot to take it down after her nap.
I'm no longer in any mood to appreciate it. "Better hurry if you want to eat."
I make to move past her, but she stops me.
"Move," I growl, but she stands her ground.
"Maybe we… should talk," she says.
I laugh dryly. "Now you're interested? Where- where was this a few hours ago?"
"It was more than just us a few hours ago, Alex," she says. "There were too many ears around. If you want privacy, I think this is the best chance you're going to get."
She's serious. And I begin to realize… maybe I can't put off this conversation forever. As much as I want to. Because if I'm going to suffer regardless, maybe it's best to know the truth. That's the only way I can move on.
We sit in the grass, sky pressing down on us. And for the first time, I give her a chance to talk. I listen.
But what I hear doesn't do anything but freeze the blood in my veins.
Her version of the story becomes a swirl of details. Missed phone calls, screaming arguments, expectations, miscommunications, her upstairs with another boy. His arms around her. Her tears on his dress shirt.
They talked. And that was all. He heard her out, consoled her, then let her rest for the night.
No sex. No lies.
"Nothing happened between me and him," she finally sighs. "I never meant to betray you or even leave you. It's just… everything was too complicated that night to deal with prom. I had to get some space."
She never cheated. She never meant to hurt me. So why don't I feel any semblance of relief? Why, suddenly, do we feel even more wrong?
"You're okay, right? I know things probably seemed way different than they were. I… I can see where you might have had the wrong idea."
Because if I hadn't overreacted, we might still be together. This mess is my fault.
Embarrassment isn't the only thing I feel. Rage, unbridled rage, suddenly. At her, at myself, at everyone else I've ever met. Violent thoughts consume all feeling for a few terrifying seconds.
I did this. I did this.
"No…" I breathe.
"Alex?"
"I need to go," I say, hurried. And for the second time in the last half-hour, I'm on my feet before I can think and running from my own pain. Down the slope. Past the dining hall. Around the side of the lake. Pine needles prick at my legs, tossed in the air with my racing footsteps. But unlike before, the truth of the matter catches up to me. I can't outrun my demons.
My legs buckle, and finally out of sight, I collapse against a tree, chest heaving and gasping for air. Sweat plasters my curls to my forehead and the back of my neck and my t-shirt hangs heavy with moisture.
It hangs limp from my thin form, drooping as if it is as defeated as I am.
She didn't do anything wrong. Which means I fucked everything up. Like I always fucking do. And unlike prom night, there are no glass bottles or drugs to take my mind off the fact that I am, and always will be, a disappointment. Just empty water bottles and pine needles.
I don't know what I would do if it weren't for Sawyer Krebbs finding me. I guess I must have been louder than I thought.
"You look like you could use some help," he says.
"Is it so obvious?"
He chuckles. "Come with me. I've been meaning to have a talk with you, anyways…"
Dane Hanson.
Springville, Utah.
Doran's never been good at taking hints. He thinks it's cute to put his hands all over me, and when I swat him away, he just thinks it's funny. Maybe to him, everything's a joke, but no one's in any mood for his humor, me least of all. He's just being immature.
I manage him for most of lunch by simply ignoring him, as I've been attempting to do all morning. I simply drown him out in Jackson's usual rambling.
But after lunch, it's immediately back to our groups. We trudge together towards one of the empty cabins under a clouded, overcast sky. Heat weighs down on our backs and perspiration clings to my skin, though the walk is only a few minutes long.
The room is stuffier than the first day. It feels downright confining.
Blake tries to open a window, but it won't budge. Gabrielle offers to put her fist through it, but all that's achieved is a bruised knuckle and a whole lot of swearing.
"Your questions are on this sheet," Milo drawls, letting a single colored sheet of paper drift to the floor in the middle of our circle. "I'll be back to collect you in awhile. There's some… setup required for tonight."
No one argues against him leaving, but the awkward silence he creates remains long after the door clicks shut.
Just to test my theory, I try opening the door. It's locked. As expected. But that doesn't mean I'm not nervous about why we're locked into nearly every room we enter.
Mariana is the first to speak.
"So about these questions…"
"Oh, shut up already," Gabrielle says. "No one wants to do the stupid questions."
"I do," says Doran, grinning childishly. I shoot him a look and his smile falls.
"Just quit it, alright?"
"Quit what?" His smile has fallen from his face, his brow now pinched with worry.
He may be oblivious, but it's no longer cute. "Just- quit it with your attitude. Not everyone is so happy-go-lucky all the time."
"Why shouldn't I be in a good mood?"
This idiot… "Haven't you been paying any attention this week?" At the blank look on his face, I sigh, trying and failing to hide my frustration. "Right. Basically, we're all getting screwed over by our horrible counselors, in case you couldn't tell. No one's sleeping. The food has become shit. And you keep skipping around acting like this is all fine and dandy."
"I didn't really…" He frowns. "I mean, I knew some people were upset, but I didn't think everyone was so stressed out."
"So you thought it was just me? Great." Maybe it's irrational for me to take out all my irritation on him, but it's too hard to take back my words now. "Blame me for it. Sure. Makes sense."
"Seriously, quit it. Both of you." Gabrielle breaks in, not an ounce of forgiveness in her voice. "I'm seriously about to strangle you both. I didn't sign up for your shit."
"Really? Like I did?" I laugh wryly. "None of us signed up for anything. No one wants this."
"Well, obviously, nobody wants to be stuck in a room full of bickering idiots."
We glare at each other, neither of us backing down. Suddenly Blake butts in.
"What is the point?"
I'd all but forgotten he was here. "What?"
"I mean…" He sighs heavily, looking glum. "Clearly this hasn't gone well. For anyone. So I wonder… what was the point of this trip? Imagine it had gone entirely according to plan. What should have been the outcome?"
"To make us bond," I say automatically. "They told us on day one."
"But is it really?" he says. "That's what they said, but it doesn't feel that way at all. It seems like for all the effort Milo and the others put towards forcing us together, they try just as hard to pit us against each other."
"Oh, that's so not true-"
"Seriously, think about it." Suddenly Blake has an entirely new spirit about him. "If they really wanted us to like each other, they wouldn't be so abrasive. They're cultivating animosity. And the poems, the questions, did they really think any of us would really do them? If you were one of them, would you expect us to?"
"There's still time, guys," Mariana says grumpily. "The page is right here…"
Blake has a point. Couple the number of burnouts in our class with how judgmental nearly every single Haversmith kid is, it's a wonder we've accomplished anything at all. And lately this place has begun to feel more and more like a powder keg… one spark and we might just burst.
"But… there's groups who say they feel closer," Doran tries to argue. "What about that? Didn't that mean they succeeded?"
"Please," I say. "They're telling themselves that to cover up the fact that they're opening up to people who don't give a shit about them. It's about justification. It comes down to either pretending it's alright, or realizing that you're just embarrassing yourself." I try not to look straight at Mariana when I say that.
"Embarrassing yourself…" Blake suddenly sits up. "That could be our answer right there."
"What?"
"Clearly, the counselors are unfit to lead. They're abusive and neglectful. And honestly? I don't think they're here because they want to help us learn. They treat this like a game. They think it's amusing. And so here's what I think. I think they want to make us vulnerable, and then get entertainment out of our interactions."
"That's way too complicated," I say, waving him off. "They obviously were selected for a reason. They may be toying with us, but there has to be a better reason to have us here."
"But even that's strange," he says, frowning. "That we're supposed to learn about each other days before we leave to never see each other again."
Maybe it is. But that's the least of my worries. As far as I'm concerned, they've put us here to make us sick of each other. That way, goodbyes won't be so hard.
For me, these goodbyes can't come soon enough.
"That's great and all, but about these questions…"
"Enough. They're not happening."
Both Doran and Mariana look upset, but they have to understand that those questions are pointless. There's no reason to answer them.
Especially when there are so many more interesting ideas to think about. The more I think about it, the more I can't help but wonder. Why are we here?
Seraphina Corvo.
Oakland, California.
This arguing is unbearable.
I shrink back in my seat, trying to be as small as possible. Luckily, I'm used to being invisible to everyone else in the room.
Wesley, Quincy, and Chanel are all but screaming over each other, and it's no secret why. Not only are the questions more personal and almost accusing - Has anyone ever done anything to you that was unforgivable? Are you proud of who you've become? Do you let others control your life or are you in command? - but these wouldn't have caused anyone to boil over if it weren't for their competitive personalities and complicated histories.
Wesley and Chanel have been fighting since about this time last year. And Quincy seems to have this need to dominate the conversation and be the most powerful man in the room. I know it takes a lot to bother Gwen, and even she appears annoyed. But I guess when I'm stuck in this habit of reading others, that's all I have to go off of - appearances and impressions.
My parents realized at a young age that I was an observant girl and could make judgments that, far more often than not, were accurate. So they toted me along to their extravagant dinner parties, claiming to keep an eye on me when really, I was keeping an eye on the businessmen in the room, deciding to what extent they could be trusted.
Here, it's not much of my business to be inside everyone's heads all the time. Yet it distracts me from the negativity of mine. So I forgive myself.
Gwen's shaking her head at Chanel and Wes as they raise their voices. Clearly she just wants space... but then I realize she hasn't said a word about Quincy, who's been the loudest and most boisterous. It's not just the noise, then. It's the topic of conversation.
"And you're so controlling! All the time! It's like-"
"You always make everything about you! Nobody gives a fuck about your stupid scholarship or whatever pointless award-"
"Pointless? Pointless?! You have no idea-"
This goes on for several more minutes until finally, it's me who can't take it. Before I can even think, I'm shouting over them. "Just shut up! Shut up! There's way more important stuff to worry about than... than..."
My resolve has left me as quickly as it came. Embarrassed, I sink back into my seat as all eyes rest on me. Stupid... where did that come from?
"Holy shit," someone whispers.
I don't know what to say. I never snap like that. In the silence, the buzz of the overhead lights is suffocating. Mentally, I keep kicking myself. Why didn't I just keep my mouth shut?
"Seraphina…" Gwen says gently.
I shake my head. "Sorry. I didn't mean to… to say anything. Just keep going. I'm sorry."
"No, she has a point," she says, facing the others. "There's been way too much bickering. I don't think she's had the chance to answer a single question. Did you want to answer?"
Oh, no. That's not what I wanted at all. I didn't want to talk so much as just hear something new out of Chanel, Wes, and Quincy. Listening to them was awful, but talking to them? Impossible.
"Why don't you start again with the first one," she offers, reaching for the list.
"I'm not really sure that's a good idea."
"Come on," Chanel says. "We've been rude. We totally owe it to you to let you talk." She smiles warmly at me, but I can tell there's something snakelike in it. She doesn't want to be kind as much as she wants people to think she is.
I don't want to answer- truly, I don't- but now the pressure's on me, with everyone expecting me to. So, hesitant, I nod. "What… what was the question…?"
"It's... hmm," Gwen frowns. "Has anyone ever done anything to you that was unforgivable... it's a bit of a weird one, you don't have to answer it-"
"No, it's fine," I say, as a realization hits me. I shouted out because I've never been heard. And that's half the answer to her question, too.
Wes and Quincy are still practically growling at each other, but Gwen is listening intently. Something in her expression relaxes me. I know she genuinely wants to hear me, and that makes it easier to speak up.
"I guess... my parents," I say. "I know, I know, no one here really is close with theirs..."
I trail off. Gwen, though, doesn't lose interest. "Your parents. I can understand that. What- if you don't mind me asking..."
"Go for it," I say, waving a hand.
"What did they do?"
Confronted with the question itself, that nasty part of my brain starts to see my parents in a new light. As my protectors. As my caregivers. They only wanted me to be safe and protected. It feels wrong that I should... berate them, for that...
But it was never right. After I came to Haversmith, life was never the same. And I haven't ever been happy here. Even in the thrill of winning a tennis match or performing a violin piece in front of hundreds of people or titrating my solution to the most perfect, faintest pink in a chemistry lab, there's always been a limit to that brief euphoria. Almost as if that happiness I've always wanted to burst out of me is trapped or bottled up. Something blocks me from really being free.
"They're very, um, controlling," I say, aware of my voice trembling and being absolutely unable to control it. Just say it. "When they sent me here sophomore year, it wasn't just about a good education, it was about control... making sure I had no distractions that would prevent me from studying and playing my best."
I go on. It seems like a blur, everything I'm saying, because suddenly it all starts to tumble out. "Even friends. They never let me have... friends." My chest shudders. Gwen looks sadly at me. When I can't look down, I decide to look at her for strength. "There's this girl... I don't want to say who it is, but you all know her, and they tried to keep it a secret from me for a long time, but they basically paid her to be... to be... friends with me. My only friend. She kept me from meeting people, from talking to people..."
I trail off again. It's almost too much. It would be if I didn't know that Gwen truly cared. "It's Aubrey, right?"
She's been paying attention… "Yeah," I say, wiping at an eye. Like a baby. My parents never liked me crying much. "And it just... I never felt secure here, because I never knew anyone, and it just always felt like everyone was out to get me somehow. And I never had any reason to believe differently."
Somehow talking has made me feel less relieved and more sick to my stomach. As if sharing has made all those issues more and more real. I got used to Aubrey after a while. My parents have been that way as long as I can remember. Admitting that there might be a problem makes everything so much worse...
I never should have opened up.
But then Gwen says something that I don't expect. "Look, if I'd had any idea I wouldn't have just sat there."
"Me neither," Chanel is quick to say, and I don't care enough to analyze if she really means it. I'm just... drained.
"It's fine," I say. "I should have said something. I should've spoken up."
"Don't blame yourself. You were just put in a bad situation. You can't put pressure on yourself for the way other people hurt you," Chanel says.
I don't quite know what to say to that. I just nod and swallow thickly, trying not to let my tears fall.
There's another heavy silence. Awkward is an understatement. This moment is unbearable.
That's when Gwen comes over and puts her arms around me. "I'm so sorry," she says, and before I can react she's engulfed me in a hug.
I'm too stunned to know how to react. "It's... it's okay..."
"It's not," she says, voice muffled in my shoulder.
And that's when it really hits me, and the tears really start flowing. Because she's right… none of how I've felt for the last few years has ever been okay. It's been miserable.
I don't mind my crying anymore. It's embarrassing, but it doesn't matter, and I can forgive myself.
Gwen may be the only one who cares right now. But one is better than none.
I feel relief pass through my body with every shuddering breath.
Someone cares. Someone cares about me.
Eimer Otero.
Gold Coast, Queensland, Australia.
We have more than an hour to simply relax and roam the camp, doing whatever we want. Most of my friends head in different directions - Simone, Trina, and Chanel follow Anabel up to the lodge, Brandon disappears towards one of the cabins with Alaina, and Blake says he wants to go find a football to toss around. Any other day, I'd probably join him, since I'm actually not half-bad at most sports. But today, I just need some time to breathe.
And being able to head off on my own for the first time since I've been here feels so freeing. I can do anything, talk to anyone, without Alaina or anybody over my shoulder making snide comments or pulling me in another direction. So no one tries to drag me away when I catch up to Freya, Seraphina, and Jeremiah.
Jeremiah greets me with a smile. "We were just going on a walk," he says. "It's our last day and it just doesn't feel like we've had enough of a chance to breathe and enjoy this place, you know?"
"Totally," I say. Here more than ever, I've been swept up in the drama that seems to follow me everywhere.
"We were going to go sit by the water," Freya says, "and maybe get some sun…"
I fight the urge to correct her. We've already passed peak tanning time, and besides, with her fair skin tone, she's more likely to burn. But I'm not one to be condescending for something she doesn't know. God knows I'm usually the one left in the dark.
"Sounds nice," I smile. "Lead the way."
For once, I'm alright with staying quiet and simply enjoying their company. It's a very peaceful walk, even as Freya prattles on to Jeremiah about jokes and memories that only make sense to them. Yet I don't feel like an outsider. I'm very comfortable here with them and Seraphina because I know that none of them intend to make me feel anything other than welcome.
We pick a spot right by the water. With the lake at my feet, grasses swirling around me and sun on my neck… it's finally starting to feel like summer.
And I can't wait. Because summer means I get to go home, all the way back to Australia. I'll get to tan, enjoy the beautiful beaches, and play as much tennis as I want. But most importantly, I'll get to see my mom again.
Maybe our relationship hasn't been the same ever since she shipped me off to Haversmith. In fact, there was a long time where I felt entirely betrayed by her for choosing work over her own daughter. But I just know I can make amends this summer when I see her. She must still care about me.
And even if it weren't for that, summer is my season. It's when I thrive.
"So how'd your guys' groups go?" says Freya, hardly stopping for breath. "Ours was so awkward… Shane literally wouldn't talk to anyone and Monica and Giles were all annoyed at each other and then me and Juliet were just sitting there so confused. Because we had a really nice talk yesterday, right? Where did that all come from?"
The rest of us just shrug, having no way of knowing what could be going on with the people in her group.
"At least you had everyone there," says Jeremiah. "Alex and Sawyer never even showed up. One of the other counselors had to give us our sheet and let us into one of the cabins. It was pretty weird…"
"Probably less depressing," Freya says immediately.
He chuckles. "Maybe a little. How about you guys?" He turns to me and Seraphina. "Anything exciting happen to you?"
I look to Seraphina, but she's blushing, too shy to speak. "Not really," I say. "Nobody really wanted to answer anything. We just talked about… things."
"Oh, same here. I think Jackson might have been the only one who really…"
He trails off mid-sentence, distracted by the voice coming from behind us. We turn around.
"Eimereimereimereimereimer-"
"What's up, Simone?" I ask, trying not to get annoyed with her already. Why is her voice so high-pitched and squeaky all the time…?
She finally reaches me, panting. "You have to see this. Come here, come here, come here-"
And even though I think I see Jeremiah shake his head at me, I get up. Before I can think, I'm following her away from the water and back towards the cabins.
"So, get this, right?" She's talking a mile a minute, and I almost have to jog to keep up with her brisk pace. "I swear, it was the most random thing. I was trying to go back to my cabin, you know, after I was talking to Anabel for a bit, no big deal."
She pauses, looks at me, and frowns when I don't say anything. "Don't you want to know why?"
"Why what…? Oh. Anabel. I guess…"
"Well, sorry, but I can't tell. It's super secret. But anyways, so I'm going there, but the door's closed, and I really should have known from the sounds and stuff, but I just barged inside, and…"
I'm starting to think that agreeing to go with her was probably a mistake.
She's grinning. Why is she grinning? What did she do?
Wait, what is she even talking about? Is this still about Anabel, or…?
"See, look. There they are. They were totally doing it. I mean, she tried to act like it wasn't happening when I came in, but it was so obvious…"
I'm no longer listening. Because right in front of me, I see them.
Alaina and Brandon, right outside my cabin. Clothed, but disheveled. Her face is flushed.
I have no reason to care. But, inexplicably, seeing them together, my heart drops.
They... hooked up?
It's like everything that happened last night was a lie. He doesn't care about me. Not when Alaina's around. Maybe he only wanted me for my body, but at least that's something. Is it so bad to like being cared for? To appreciate the littlest bit of attention that means I mean something to somebody?
I'm always second-best. Always have been. So I wonder why I even try.
When Brandon sees me staring, he doesn't say anything. Just throws an arm around Alaina, flashing me a grin.
I'm lost. I have no way to wrap my mind around Brandon or the way his brain works. He's always treated me like a tool. I should have known.
But it gets worse. Because I'm about to head back to the lake, to try to get away from this craziness and distract myself, when Wes suddenly gets in Brandon's face. I don't know when he showed up, but he's seen what he needed to see.
They start to argue. I can't focus on anything they're saying. Because now my eyes are on Alaina, to see if she has the guts to face me.
Before things really start spinning out of control, Alaina looks up. Looks me square in the eyes. And there's little remorse in them. She gives me that same cold stare she gives to anyone she deems beneath her. I'm nothing more than a pawn to her.
When she drops her gaze, my heart crumbles into dust.
Madison Carrell.
Foster, Rhode Island.
"She was mine," Wes hisses at Brandon. "Why the fuck would you go behind my back like that?"
"What?" That's news to Alaina. "I wasn't yours. You know who my boyfriend is."
"Oh, that's even worse," Trina says. "Cheating on your boy with the biggest man-whore in the class. Just wait until Donovan hears. That'll really put a damper on your happy families' reunion at graduation, huh?"
Juliet, Monica, and I have been drawn out of my cabin mid-conversation, curious at the argument going on outside. We're still trying to figure out exactly what we missed.
Alaina's eyes widen. "This wasn't my choice, okay? You don't get it. He threatened to tell…"
"Tell what?"
But she's silent. "Doesn't matter. Leave us alone."
Of course, Trina doesn't back off. "Listen, princess. You may think your stupid crown protects you from any kind of payback, but you're wrong. I'll fuck you up if I have to." Then, she shoves her backwards.
Nobody else seems to know why Trina's so upset. Nobody but me. Only because of a comment she made a few weeks ago in Acting III, one I'm sure she doesn't even remember making.
"I know he gets around, but he's so hot. I think confidence is so attractive."
"Who?"
"Brandon, of course. Trust me, I know he thinks he's hot shit, but he's kind of right. We argue a lot and he's kind of a dick, and it works. We have this love-hate thing going on and I'm pretty sure he's into it."
I didn't ask for her to tell me any of it, but I guess she trusts me enough to know I won't tell. She's not the only one, either. I probably have more dirt on anyone here than even Simone, but who would know? I don't make a habit of blabbing to everyone I know.
Wes steps in between the girls. "Stay out of this, Trina. Stop shoving your fat nose in everything."
"This isn't just about you!" she shouts. She pushes around him to go face-to-face with Alaina. "If you could just keep your pants on around one fucking person-"
"Let it go," Chanel groans. "It might surprise you to know Brandon actually has standards, but he's never going to fuck a bitch with a unibrow."
That's when all hell breaks loose. And I know I shouldn't watch, but it's like none of us can turn away.
Trina and Chanel become locked in a battle of fists and elbows. Soon enough, Wes is throwing a fist at Brandon, whose smug smirk is wiped off his face by the first square hit he receives in the jaw.
I know what that's about, too. But only because I've heard the stories of girls he manipulated and used. His favorite hobby is turning people against each other. A master of deception, he always seems to pin the blame on someone else.
I shouldn't condone the violence, but I know he did this on purpose, and really, he had it coming to him.
I know better than to try to break this fight up. Giles, trying to be noble, steps in between Wes and Brandon and gets knocked down in one punch. He crumples on the ground, nose streaming blood.
I don't know where Gabrielle, Quincy, or Shane come from, but before I know it, they're in the thick of things too. The redhead ends up wrestling with Chanel and shoving her against the wall. When she finally throws the smaller girl off of her, sputtering and livid, Chanel has fingernail marks scratched down the side of her face.
Quincy and Shane originally seem like they're trying to defend Wes, but soon enough, they turn on each other, throwing fists and trading blows.
Somehow, Alaina manages to stay out of the chaos, watching the madness with an air of indifference. As if this wasn't caused by her.
It's the worst fight I've seen at Haversmith. Maybe there were worse ones in the two years before I came here, but everything back at school was usually shut down in a few minutes, before anyone could cause any serious damage.
But it takes Jackson running for help to get any assistance from any adults. Which makes no sense. By the time Sawyer and Milo arrive with him, nearly every student at camp has been drawn to the lake by the noise. There's no way they were so oblivious as to miss the mayhem going on just feet from their rooms.
Even stranger is the lazy pace at which the counselors approach. They stroll in, giving off an air of mild amusement, as if this isn't a violent fight, but a friendly argument between buddies.
Eventually, Sawyer steps in. He, Milo, and two other counselors pull Shane from Quincy, Brandon from Wes, and Gabrielle and Trina from Chanel. No one looks good, their faces swelling or bloodied. Giles is all but unconscious. Blood dribbles from Quincy's lips and down his chin.
"The rest of you, get out of here." Sawyer points towards our cabins. "We'll call you for dinner. Just- go."
He and the others drag the rest of the involved students towards a far cabin. But Juliet, Monica, and I can only look at each other, still in shock at all the pandemonium.
"Let's go back to my room," I say.
Back in the cabin, Juliet and I crash on the single bed, while Monica sprawls out along the lower bunk.
Even with the door propped open, the humidity remains, heat weighing all of us down.
"Does anyone know what just happened?" Juliet asks. "Or am I the only one who's a little lost?"
"Here's what I got," Monica says. "Alaina and Brandon hooked up, but she wasn't really into it, but Wes got all pissed at him for messing with 'his girl,' which isn't even true. Trina was just there to make a scene, like she always is..."
"Where did everyone else come from?" Juliet asks. "It didn't have anything to do with Quincy."
"Some people just need to be in the middle of everything," she says. "I think he and Gabrielle just needed an excuse to punch somebody."
They keep talking, trying to wrap their minds around the craziness, but before long I can't keep listening. I'm far too tired to stay engaged.
When they go quiet, I lay my head down on my arms with a groan.
"You good, Mads?"
"I just want to go home," I sigh.
"I want to go for a hike," says Monica. "And then I want to go home."
"It was nice here for a while," says Juliet. "But I actually miss school. Not the work, obviously, but there was always something to do instead of just sitting around and waiting."
She's right. All of our actions here have been controlled and restricted. It's no wonder that after three days, the usual suspects just couldn't take it anymore. They snapped.
"Not to mention, my phone," Juliet continues. "I think this is the longest I've ever gone without checking Facebook…"
We all laugh a little. It's not much, but I feel some of the tension in our room diffuse. By this time tomorrow, we'll all be home, and everything will be back to normal. Finally.
I can't wait for this all to be some distant memory.
All we have to do is finish this final night. Maybe there's some punishment waiting for us at dinner, courtesy of the most violent and dramatic of our class, but at this point, I can't really be bothered to worry about it.
And maybe I'm not typically one to be so optimistic, but as I doze off, I find myself hoping that tonight isn't going to be as rough as I expect it to be. Maybe this trip might end on a positive note.
God knows we could all use some positivity.
Hard Feelings/Loveless by Lorde.
I was hoping to get this up a little earlier today, but when have I ever gotten a chapter up when I wanted to?
Oh, and we finally hit the double-digit mark on chapters. Over a year later. But I think it's still something of an accomplishment...
One more pre-Games chapter to close out this half of the story, and then we have the Games. Before we get there, though, there's drama galore. Some cruelty. Secrets are revealed. Is it a little over-the-top? Maybe. All I know is, I got a kick-ass lyric picked out and I'm really excited to get working on it. So expect that soon.
Also I'm beyond fucking ready for these kids to know wtf is going on. If I have to hint at it forever I'm going to lose my mind. So yeah.
I forgot how to write A/Ns so thanks for listening to my rambling and I'll see youuuuuu in a bit!