Camp Cretaceous: What Do We Do Now?

by Ecaetheerein

We thought it'd be fun… We thought we'd be safe… But we didn't realize the horror waiting for us on the island. Claws, teeth, screaming… so much screaming. But despite the challenges, we survived the night. Well... some of us. And now that we've been left on the island, we're faced with the challenge of surviving until help arrives... If it arrives...

44. Ep44 Trials

Author's note:

Sooooooo sorry about taking almost a month. I started to write the chapter... 7 days in, I realized it was not working, and basically started over from scratch... went on vacation and couldn't see my computer, (cause stupid me forgot my glasses) which made it difficult to write... and this chapter surprisingly surpasses the last in terms of most words... so it was very delayed.

I've started senior year today, so as much as I hate to do this, I'm moving posting dates to 15-20 days, because of limited screen time due to school.

Fair warning, I tried my best to figure out how to portray a realistic trial but the Internet was not helping, so I decided who cares?! It may not be realistic but I'm not a lawyer and I have no experience, so IT TEEEES WHAT IT TEEEEES, OKAY?!

And to answer the question about what my favorite Jurassic movies are, I'd have to say the original Jurassic Park would take number one. Jurassic Park 3 would take a close second... I love the raw survival moments. Fallen Kingdom next, because while the plot may be a little on the unrealistic side (as realistic as you can get with dinos), I like the Indoraptor. Jurassic World the first movie, and then the Lost World... okay until the New York part. Ugh.

Anyways, enjoy!

---

"Enough goofing off, already, and get your pompis ready for school (butts)," Mrs. Gutierrez sighs, trying to finish up her daughter's lunches.

"Come on, get yerself upstairs and get dressed," Holly says as she and Miriam corral their younger, school-bound siblings into getting ready.

"Technically, estoy vestido (I am dressed)," Shelby points out.

"Get dressed in something other than your pajamas," the oldest rolls her eyes.

"Can I wear my pink tutu to colegio (school)?" the youngest asks.

"I don't care," their mother says, waving at them over her shoulder. "Just get preparado (ready)."

"Yay!" Shelby exclaims, racing upstairs.

The other girls race upstairs with her. Sammy stops at the bottom and sighs. "Can someone help me up there…" she asks, trying to sound as cheerful as possible.

"Claro (Of course)," her father says as he and Miriam pick up her wheelchair and slowly carry her upstairs.

"You know, we're just gonna have to carry ya back downstairs in a couple minutes," Miriam says, cracking her back. "Podrías haberte vestido arriba, (You could've just gotten dressed upstairs,) then come down and eat breakfast."

"Didn't think about it esta mañana, (this morning)" Sammy sighs. "Gracias, anyways."

"Con gusto (happy to help)," her father smiles, heading back downstairs.

"You take Mama's bathroom and we'll take the other one," Holly says, guiding Sammy into their parents' rooms. "I know you want intimidad (privacy)."

"Aw, that's so amable," Sammy smiles as she rolls herself into the bathroom.

Holly closes the door and Sammy's smile immediately falls. "Dios mío, dónde estás, dónde estás… (My God, where are you, where are you…)"

She clasps her hands together and rests her forehead on them, sobbing as quietly as she could in the bathroom. As she weeps, she slowly mumbles out the thoughts in her head. "God, where were you… Were you with me? Were you en la isla with me? (on the island)... Why did it happen… Was it my fault?"

Gently letting her hands fall to her lap, she looks up at the mirror. She had to strain to see herself from her position in the wheelchair. "God… what will happen tomorrow?"

The dreaded Gutierrez vs Mantah Corp trial was starting the next day. Sammy was terrified of it. She couldn't bear the thought of losing it. "Mantah Corp needs to receive justice for what they did…" she mutters, thinking back to the torture. "Justice…"

The thought that truly tormented her was the idea that true justice wasn't what she thought it was. "What if they don't believe me? What if they think I was lying…" fear pipes up. "What if I'm too good at lying…"

The paraplegic lets her head flop back, tears sliding down into her hairline. It was against her morals to make lying a habit, or even an occasional thing. Lying for a surprise party? That was okay. Lying to keep herself out of trouble? That would only cause more trouble… Honesty was something she and her family strived to achieve. Sure, they hadn't always achieved it. There were many secrets that family members had kept that were finally exposed. There were probably a couple secrets at the moment waiting to be exposed. But lying wasn't something they tried to do, especially to each other.

"Lying is despised in my family… and lying was the thing that caused us so much torment… my lying caused them so much torment…"

Sammy knew that Mantah Corp would try to argue that she was the one in the wrong. She worked for them, she should've given over the information like she promised to. It was her who broke the contract. Surely, that was their defense. They had no other logical defense.

Part of Sammy, though, was scared that she would get punished along with them… She was even scared that she deserved it for her deceit. "Was the torture I recieved punishment for my deceit? … Did I deserve to be tortured like that? Was that my consequence for lying and stealing? Am I just as bad as them?"

Silently sniffling, she brushes her hair and tidies up her appearance. She knew it was hypocritical of her to gently correct Brooklynn when she bemoaned about her appearance and belittled herself, for the cowgirl did the same thing in her own head. The self-deprecating thoughts in her head tried to justify it. "Brooklynn actually is beautiful… I'm mediocre at best…"

Sammy looks at herself in the mirror as best she can. Through her mother and Abuela's cooking, she had begun to gain weight and was almost back to what the doctors said was a healthy weight for her. Despite knowing it was a healthy weight for her, Sammy still felt overweight. She understood Brooklynn's struggle of anorexia. The paraplegic had never starved herself or thrown up to lose weight, but she had struggled with the idea.

It was partly her family that kept her from it. For one, she didn't want to set a bad example for her younger sisters. Rio already struggled with social anxiety and self-hatred; she didn't need her older sister inadvertently encouraging her to starve herself. Sandra and Sammy had very similar personalities, and although Sandra was much thinner naturally than Sammy, the paraplegic was worried that someday she would struggle with anorexia. She didn't want her younger sister to get the idea from her. Shelby, now she was a mystery… Sammy didn't know if she would ever struggle with her appearance, but she didn't want to place that idea in her head, regardless.

Holly had been anorexic herself when she was around Sammy's age and kept a close eye on her younger sisters diets to make sure they didn't follow the same path she did. The paraplegic wouldn't have been able to get away with an eating disorder for long. Miriam was like Holly's sidekick in terms of overprotective sister role; she would most definitely tattle if she caught wind of Sammy starving herself.

The main reason Sammy didn't actually starve herself or control her weight in an unhealthy way was that she didn't feel that it was necessary. In her beginning teen years, she had trouble controlling the urge. Now, she had sort of given up. She felt like she wasn't worth the effort of trying to be thin and going down that pathway.

"There's so many things wrong with me…" self-hatred moans. "I'm so ugly… Where would I start?"

Sammy had so many insecurities about her body, she wasn't sure what she would change first. Her weight was somewhere to start… Her parents and family all told her that it was normal and healthy. She was just naturally a bigger person. She wasn't overweight; she was naturally thicker, that's all. Cornfed, as they said in Texas. Knowing that she was naturally thicker didn't make her feel better. Even knowing that she wasn't overweight didn't make her feel better. Sammy saw all the pretty models and mannequins and Disney princesses with thin, curvy bodies and a waist as tiny as their neck. Unfortunately—in her mind—she had inherited her father's beefiness. Her mother was on the thin, petite side, but Sammy hadn't inherited that. To add insult to injury, she had inherited his height, as well. Sammy would prefer to be 5'4" like her mother than 5'7". She felt like she towered over the other girls.

Another thing she would change about herself was her hair. Not the silky, shiny black hair that she currently needed to trim after the island. The other hair Shelby loved to bring up. The hair Shelby liked to nickname fur. Sammy glances at her arms and rolls her eyes with tears. Her mother's side was primarily Native American, descendants of the Apache tribe, if the paraplegic remembered correctly. There was a bit of Swedish or Danish in there, too. On her father's side, they were very mixed. Her Abuelo was Mexican, primarily Aztec and Spanish if they had correctly traced their lineage. Her Abuela was Mexican as well, but the DNA test her Uncle Jorge had tried said there was English and Scottish mixed in on his maternal side.

Between her genetics, Sammy knew she could've gone either way in terms of body hair. Her mother was smooth and soft; glabrous. Her father, on the other hand, could be mistaken for a werewolf. To her dismay, she took more after him. Her arms were softer and looked striped like a tiger. Her legs were coarser and unattractive. She didn't even want to get started on her back and stomach… Underneath her arms were a whole different story, one her youngest sister loved to remind her about.

Being called names by kids at school was bad. Werewolf, Bigfoot, and Chewbacca were the most common ones. It was worse coming from her younger sister, who was supposed to uplift and encourage her. What was an absolute embarrassment was being compared to boys, especially the boys she had a crush on. She had pretended to get over it at the hospital, but when Shelby had compared her and Kenji's armpits, it had really stung. Her mind had meditated on it for days after that, and she secretly felt self conscious every time she or Kenji wore a short sleeve or sleeveless shirt.

There was always more. Perhaps she would change how oily her skin was. She had inherited her mothers acne curse, and if she didn't wash her face daily, she'd break out horribly. She'd change how bushy her eyebrows were. Maybe she'd change her feet to a smaller size, if she could.

"Is there really nothing positive I can think of for myself?" a voice prompts.

Sammy sighs, trying to think of something she did like about her appearance. Her smile… she had always heard that her smile lit up the room. Sammy smiles at herself in the mirror and examines it. She had a mild dislike for her chubby cheeks—just another reminder that she was thicker. But they looked cute when she smiled…

"I like my smile," she says, the fake smile becoming slightly more natural.

Her eyes… That was something she wouldn't change. While Sammy did like the look of blue eyes, she didn't hate her brown ones. They were wide and brown, and when she was happy, they sparkled.

"I like my eyes," she murmurs, her smile feeling less forced.

She liked her warm skin tone. It tanned easily in the sun and she didn't burn as much. After working in the sun and tanning, her skin glowed. Aside from a few stretch marks on her legs from growth spurts, acne scars and regular scars from mishaps on the ranch, her skin was practically flawless.

"I like my skin," she says, her smile stretching to show her teeth.

Sammy liked her hair on her head. It was silky and shiny. It was very thick and healthy, and her mother had expressed her desire to have it. Her hair was something she wouldn't trade.

"I like my hair," she murmurs, her smile now completely real.

"My sisters are better," the self-hating thoughts change tactics.

Sammy's smile falls again. She begins to compare herself to her sisters. Width wise, she envied Holly, Rio, and Sandra. They had inherited their mother's petiteness. While the younger two were stick straight, they could grow into some curves. Holly, on the other hand, appeared like a supermodel in Sammy's eyes. Height wise, Miriam, Rio, and Shelby were to be envied. The paraplegic knew their chances of towering over other girls was slim.

There was always something else to envy. Holly had never had acne as bad as Sammy or her mother. Her skin seemed to be flawless and without fault. She had a glowing, warm beige complexion that radiated beauty. Miriam was on the more pale side, but she had light brown freckles that Sammy had always envied. She had had bad acne, but her scars blended in with her freckles and one could hardly tell the difference.

All the girls shared the same eye color and practically the same eye shape. The only one who was radically different in shape was Rio. While the other girls had round, big eyes, Rio was different. She had these deep, almond, hooded eyes that looked so exotic to her sister. Sammy thought that her younger sister could ensorcell any man she met just by looking at him.

Sandra's hair was to be envied. Her brown hair had been blonde when she was little. Her curly hair had hung in southern bell ringlets that perfectly framed her face. While Sammy did like her straight, black hair, she wished for curly brown hair like her younger sisters.

Shelby's smile was something to wish for. She was six and cute anyway, but her smile made her ten times cuter. She had thin, pink lips that practically stretched to her ears when she smiled. Her teeth were white and straight, unlike Sammy's, who probably needed braces when she settled down into a routine after being on the island.

"Surely, Kenji can't have fallen in love with me for my looks," Sammy mumbles, staring herself in the eyes. That was why she resisted starving herself. She already hated practically everything about herself. She didn't need the stress of hyper fixating on her diet on top of that. With all her physical flaws, it was too much effort to try to look pretty…

"Hablando de acné… (Speaking of acne…)" Sammy sputters, looking at her face in the mirror. Since the first attempt at a bath, her mother had stopped making her take one. Mrs. Gutierrez felt horrible about practically torturing her daughter and left showering entirely up to Sammy.

The cowgirl had been thankful, but the moment she first went to school, she regretted not showering. Around her family, she was totally fine smelling like a skunk. Around her friends, it wasn't a problem, as her entire experience with them was practically showerless. But in public, she became very self conscious about how she smelled. Washcloths and wipes could only do so much for her. At most, she showered once a week. It was torture, but after about a week of getting discreet glances of disgust from her classmates, she was willing to brave the water for a quick shower.

The day before, she had taken a lightning fast shower of her own free will. Her mother had stayed in the bathroom with her, as being in water made her separation anxiety spike. She had wet her hair and body, turned off the water to scrub her body with soap, then rinsed off quickly, so as to avoid having water poured on her as much as she possibly could. While she didn't need another shower, her face could use a good wash again… Normally, she used makeup remover wipes as a way to clean her face. But after a week, they didn't do her much good. They dried out her face and made things worse.

Sammy sighs as she looks at her face. It wasn't just about the look of red, infected bumps on her face. It was painful, too. She hadn't washed her face in the shower. Water touching her face brought on memories of Tiff while water touching her body brought back memories of drowning. The paraplegic avoided mixing the two as much as possible. So she showered once a week and washed her face the next day.

"Dios, ayúdame… (God, help me…)" she murmurs, reaching up to get her mother's face wash and wheeling herself to the bathtub. It was easier to wash her face over the bathtub than the sink.

Sammy pins her short hair back and mentally prepares herself to wash her face. For most people, washing their face was a normal, monotonous part of their routine. But for a girl with PTSD from drowning twice—and the added horror of watching her best friend almost die in a river—washing her face was a minefield of flashbacks and trauma. She dreaded it with a passion.

Gripping the edges of the bathtub and leaning over like she was about to vomit, Sammy steels herself and turns on the water to a low stream. She lets out a shaky exhale, sends a silent prayer to God, and takes a handful of water. She splashes it over her face and shudders. She takes another scoop, then another, then another. Gasping for air, the paraplegic stops. Her hands were starting to tremble and she was starting to hear muffled shouts from Tiff and Mitch.

Whimpering, she takes a small dab of face wash and scrubs her face. Then came the hardest part: rinsing. Wetting her face was torture, but rinsing might as well have been Hell. There was something about getting wet with her eyes closed that made things much worse.

Panting, Sammy takes a scoop of water and begins to rinse the soap off of her face. She was in tears and whimpering, but she fought to keep control. It would be a whole lot worse if the soap got in her eyes and she had to flush them out with water.

Deciding that she had rinsed most of the soap off of her face—really, deciding she had had enough of torturing herself—Sammy turns off the water and quickly dries her face with the towel. She had missed some suds on the sides of her face, but she couldn't care less.

Leaning back in her wheelchair, Sammy allows herself to cry. "Why did this have to happen… Why did I have to go and spy?"

"Sam, you buena?" Holly asks outside the bathroom door.

Sammy immediately tries to conceal her tears. "Sí, just brushing my hair," she says as cheerfully as she could muster.

"Do you want any help?" her older sister offers.

"No, no, soy buena (I'm good)," Sammy shakes her head.

"Okay," Holly says, walking out of their parents' room.

An uncomfortable, burning feeling rises up in Sammy: anger. She wasn't sure why… All she knew was she was angry at Holly. "She's such a good sister," she thinks in anger. "She's so loving and kind and protective… Why am I mad at her for it?"

The more Sammy thought about it, the more she realized she was jealous. She was jealous of Holly's personality. Holly was such a good older sister. She was kind and compassionate towards her younger siblings… most of the time. She had the most experience in the world of the girls in many different subjects, so they could go to her for a lot of advice. Holly was also extremely protective and strong. Sammy could count on her to stick up for her; her older sister would most certainly get in a physical fight with anyone who crossed her sister. She already had. On multiple occasions, she had picked a fight and punched boys who dared mess with her younger sisters. Sammy wished she could be as protective as Holly… or Yasmina. The two were very similar in their overprotective nature.

"Mom says five minutes, Sam," Miriam informs her through the door.

"Okay," Sammy calls out. Miriam, now her personality had some perks that Sammy envied. Miriam had this ability to draw people in and get them to like her instantly. The cowgirl wasn't sure how she did it. Her older sister just seemed to be loved by everyone. She flowed so easily between groups and could fit in with practically any group. Even the older brothers gelled well with her. Sammy was envious of that ability. She tried to be friendly and open, but her talkative, sunny personality didn't fit well with others sometimes…

If she was on the subject of sibling envy, she might as well go over it all. Personality wise, there wasn't much to envy about Rio. The girl was anxious and shy; Sammy didn't envy any of that. But Rio had always had an ear for music, even though she had been too nervous of performing to actually try her hand at an instrument or vocals. But the younger girl had always had a talent for beats, rhythms, melodies, and harmonies. And when she thought she was alone, Rio had a decent singing voice—they didn't see her working on her vocals any time soon, though. Sammy, on the other hand, had always compared her singing voice to a dying cow. She was envious of her younger sister's musical talent.

Sammy and Sandra were pretty similar, but the latter was on the quieter side. The paraplegic was bitter about it. She knew her loquacious personality often pushed away those who were more timid and shy. Sandra's personality didn't do that. Sammy wished she had the ability to just shut her mouth and listen sometimes. It was difficult not to talk at times for her, and her younger sister never had that problem.

Shelby, well, her personality trait that Sammy envied was her honesty. She would never have gotten in trouble with the law like her older sister did. She was too honest for that. Sammy wished she had that strong of a conviction to honesty that she wouldn't break it…

Sammy sniffs, wipes away her tears and bites her lip. "Keep it together, Samantha… Come on, tirar juntos… (pull it together…)"

"I might not be pretty… I might not be desirable physically… I might be a little too talkative and sometimes I lie… But I'm positive… I'm positive… My friends relied on my positivity on the island. It was what kept them going… They've said it themselves… Kenji felt like we were little kids going on an adventure because I was so positive… You can't lose that positivity, Samantha… You can't lose it…"

If there was one trait she had she was happy about, it was her unfathomable positivity. As a kid, she never saw the downsides to a situation. Sammy was always sure that things would work out for good and never let her smile disappear. Even when their barn was burning… Sammy didn't let it break her spirit. She could think back to so many things in the past. There were so many situations where her parents and siblings were frustrated, angry, and upset. But she didn't let those feelings take root in her spirit. Instead, she insisted in child-like faith that God would carry them through everything.

Sammy recalls a particular time that stuck out in her memory. She was nine years old. Her mother was heavily pregnant with Shelby. Holly was fifteen at the time and had sat her down on the stairs to talk. "I have something to tell you, Sammy," Holly said. The older girl had seemed just a bit nervous.

"Is something wrong?" Sammy asked, sitting down next to her.

"Mmm, sort of?" Holly winced. "I… Do you want to be an aunt someday?"

"Sí, sí!" Sammy said excitedly. "Are you gonna get married?!"

"I'm fifteen!" Holly laughed.

"Mama got married at diecinueve (nineteen)," Sammy pointed out. "She had you when she was veinte (twenty)."

"Yeah, but I don't think I can get married at fifteen," Holly sighed. "That's not it…"

"Did you find a guy to get married to and have kids with?" Sammy asked, confused as to why Holly was bringing this up.

"No…" her older sister mumbled. "I… I have a… a baby, though…"

"You're adopting without a papa?" Sammy tilted her head.

Holly shook her head.

"You're adopting with a papa?" Sammy tilted her head the other way.

Once again, Holly shook her head. "I'm embarazada (pregnant)," she murmured.

"You have a baby inside you?" Sammy asked in great confusion. "How did it get in there? How did Mama get a baby inside her? Where do babies come from?"
Holly covered her face in dread. "Sam, I am not burstin' your bubble, K? Ask Mama and Papa."

"They won't tell me," Sammy whined. "Besaste a un chico? (Did you kiss a boy?)" As a child, she had been completely convinced that kissing was how women got pregnant.

"Yes…" Holly grimaced.

Sammy gasped. "And you're not married?"

"No… No estoy casada, (I'm not married)," Holly grumbled. "Look, I made a mistake, and now I'm a mama…"

"Well, the baby isn't a mistake," Sammy smiled. "Maybe you made a mistake, but God forgave you and blessed you with a baby."

Tears slipped out of her older sister's eyes as she smiled at Sammy's child-like outlook and Holly pulled Sammy into a hug. "Thank you… I don't know where we'd be without your positivity, Sammy…"

A tear slips out as Sammy remembers when, two weeks later, Holly ended up having a miscarriage at fifteen weeks. It was early in the morning and Rio had been the one to find her first. Sammy heard a pained scream from the bathroom. Curious, she had gotten out of bed to investigate. Rio had beat her to it and was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, staring in silent horror. "Holly?" Sammy asked, scared as she looked down. Holly was leaning on the bathroom sink and clinging to it with her right hand. Her pajama skirt was stained red and blood was beginning to slowly run down her legs. Sammy could see her hands were blood stained and she was holding something in her left hand over the sink.

"Get Mama," Holly sobbed. "Get Mama!"

Sammy had immediately darted across the hall to get her parents, who had already gotten out of bed to investigate the ruckus. The paraplegic remembered being terrified that her older sister was dying. Thankfully—while it was traumatizing and disheartening—the miscarriage wasn't dangerous and after they took Holly to the hospital, she was fine. She had mild cramping and was dizzy, but the most damage was done to her spirit. She hadn't been in pain when Sammy found her, it was the shock of bleeding while pregnant that scared her. Holly was left devastated by losing her child and refused to come out of her room. "Holly?" Sammy had asked two days later, standing in the doorway.

"Go away," Holly mumbled.

"Are you sad?" Sammy asked.

"Of course I'm sad!" Holly snapped. "I just lost my baby! Yeah, yeah, I know I didn't want my baby in the beginning, but…"

Sammy came over to sit on the bed next to her older sister. "I just can't understand why God took away my baby who he gave to me in the first place…" Holly sniffed.

"Maybe the Devil was the one who took away your baby to steal your happiness," Sammy said softly. "And God took your baby to Heaven so that your baby wouldn't suffer in Hell."

Holly gave her a small, tearful smile. "Maybe…"

The next day, Mrs. Gutierrez had gone into labor and Holly got to be there when Shelby was born. It took a long time for Holly to come to terms with her miscarriage, but Shelby helped. It also helped to believe that having only one child in the house—especially one like Shelby—was a blessing.

"Where is that positivity?" Sammy asks herself, tears slowly dripping down her face. Shighing, she recites the verse she had memorized by heart. "'1 Thessalonians 5:16-18: Always be joyful. Never stop praying. Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you who belong to Christ Jesus…'"

She sighs. "You have to be positive, girl. God says be thankful and joyful in all circumstances… Your friends need it… God commands it… Keep it together, Samantha… You have to…"

"Sammy, time to go to school!" Sandra calls from the door.

"Coming!" Sammy calls back, taking a moment to wipe away her tears, compose herself, then wheels herself out of the bathroom. "Keep it together… Stay positive…" she repeats to herself. "Stay positive…"

---

"I am soooo ticked off with our English teacher!" Brooklynn storms into her house and heads to the fridge. "I… I… What would be a good Texan phrase for ticked off that's not a curse word?"

Sammy wheels herself through the front door. "Mmm… madder than a wet hen?"

"Exactly!" Brooklynn sputters, practically throwing open the fridge door, hungry. "I'm madder than a wet hen at Miss Viviano… That means angry, right?"

"Yee," Sammy chuckles.

"Haw," Brooklynn sighs, deciding she wasn't hungry and closing the fridge door. "I mean, she can't not know we've been through something traumatic. And we just moved. And we're struggling with PTSD. She has to have been filled in on it! Why else would you have gone missing?!"

"Yeah, Miss Viviano is—" the cowgirl starts to say.

"And yet, she acts like we're misbehaving brats!" the Youtuber rants, roughly opening the cupboard and pulling out a glass cup. "I can handle her reprimanding me for not paying attention, but Yaz?! Come on!"

"It's not us, it's just her," Sammy sighs. "She's—"

"Does she not understand how PTSD works?" she snaps, filling the cup with water from the sink. "It's not like we want to have flashbacks and remember the island! It's not like we can control it and we're having a flashback in the middle of class just to make things difficult for her! Yaz outright despises being 'weak' in front of people, sometimes in front of us! She's not pretending to be traumatized and having a flashback in the freaking middle of class! Especially not at the end of her first week! Her face turned pale. Pale! She lost all the color in her face and her hands were literally trembling! She's not a faker, this isn't for attention!"

The older girl goes to talk, but decides against it, rolling back and forth in her wheelchair as she waits for her friend to finish ranting.

"I'm shocked Yaz didn't slap the s*** out of her for making her stay in class during her whole episode," Brooklynn curses, aggressively taking a drink.

"Language," Sammy mumbles, not putting much effort into it as Brooklynn ignores her and continues her rant.

"And it's not like our teacher was making things any easier for any of us or herself!" Brooklynn continues, angrily pacing the kitchen. "She's outright banned the use of earplugs, which would tremendously help Yaz in this situation. Even if she wore just one earplug, it'd help drown out some of the noises that bother her. Breathing and chewing bothered her on a regular day, but now it can cause flashbacks to dinosaurs. I'm telling you, that d*** idiot of a teacher is making things harder on herself!"

Brooklynn throws her arms out for emphasis and accidentally throws her glass. Immediately she tries to catch it, but it's too late. The glass clatters on the floor near Sammy's feet.

"Dang, did that not break?" Sammy asks, leaning forward.

Brooklynn chuckles. "I don't know how that didn't break, but thank God it didn't."

Sammy laughs. "Must be made of a harder glass," she says as she reaches up onto the counter for a paper towel.

"Oh, no, it's fine, Sam," Brooklynn assures her, taking the paper towels out of her friends reach and crouching down. "I can clean it up. It's my mess. I just need you to back up a bit."

"Oh…" Sammy says quietly, wheeling herself backwards so Brooklynn could mop up the water she spilled. The paraplegic's instinct was to get down and clean up the mess… it seemed to be her very nature to clean up and take care of things. It made her a bit sad to think that it was now difficult for her to do that…

"It just makes me sad to see Yaz treated that way," Brooklynn says softly as she mops up the water. "Seeing her get reprimanded is one thing… But today… she didn't even fight it… She just sort of curled up in her chair and silently cried… I hate seeing her cry… She's so strong… She shouldn't have taken it… Normally, she wouldn't… I was fully expecting to see her make some wisea** comeback and embarrass the teacher while making her point… I wasn't expecting that…"

"She isn't the same…" Sammy nods. "Not since… honestly, not since the day of Mantah Corp." The girl winces at the memory.

"Yeah, the Scorpius rex really traumatized her," Brooklynn nods.

"I don't even wanna know what that is…" Sammy mutters.

"E750," the younger girl informs her. She places the unaffected glass in the sink and sits on the floor in front of her friend. "I wonder what about it made her so… so… I don't know… so afraid of living… It's like whatever it did to her scared her so much, she doesn't want to get up and walk."

"I think there's more to the reason behind her not wanting to walk," Sammy says, gently crossing her arms. "Everything with her has a deeper layer to it."

"I wish it wasn't her…" Brooklynn murmurs. "She doesn't deserve this…"

Sammy's motherly instinct kicks in. "And you do?" she asks softly.

Brooklynn was hunched over a bit, sitting criss-cross on the floor. As soon as Sammy asks that question, though, her shoulders draw in slightly. "Well… I didn't say that…"

"But you implied it…"

"How?"

"Sayin' you wish it wasn't her, and that she doesn't deserve it… it kinda implies that you wish it had happened to you."

"And you don't? Would you take Yaz's troubles for her if you could?"

"If I could, but I can't," Sammy sighs. "So, there's no point in wishin' I could."

"Yeah, I guess not…" Brooklynn nods, staring at the cabinets.

Sammy smiles worryingly. "You doin' alright?"

"Yeah," the Youtuber nods. "I'm good."

"Truly?" the cowgirl presses.

Brooklynn nods.

Sammy sighs. "See… I'm not sure I believe you."

"Why not?" the younger girl mumbles.

"Because I know ya," she murmurs. "Yer actin' like you did on the island… and I don't want to see you pushed to the edge again and not offer a hand. If you were in trouble… Well, I'd never forgive myself for not noticing it. You're like my sweet, innocent little sister, and I feel the need to help ya."

Brooklynn stares at her hands, playing with the bracelet on her wrist. Sammy could see her facial expression change, but she couldn't place it. Was Brooklynn's face contorting in guilt? Anger? Discomfort? She couldn't fully see her friend's face from her position in her wheelchair.

"It's fine, Sammy," Brooklynn assures her. "It's nothing new… Seriously. Just the same old crap you hear from me."

"Well, that same old crap is still a problem, so it is somethin' for me to worry about," the paraplegic smiles sadly. "You can come to me with anything, ya know?"

"I know," the Superstar nods, a little tired of hearing that phrase.

"Do you?" Sammy gently pushes.

"Yes," Brooklynn says, on the verge of snapping.

"There's nothing bothering you that you want to talk about?" she tilts her head.

The younger girl sighs harshly. "No, I'm fine."

"... Is there anything that you don't want to talk about?" Sammy asks.

"God, you're such a mom," Brooklynn grumbles, getting up from the floor and opening up the cupboard again. "And my Mom doesn't even do this."

Sammy's face twists in offence. "Well, maybe because I care about ya and I see that somethin's botherin' you."

"Let it go, Sammy!" Brooklynn groans, getting another glass of water.

"No," the older girl decides to put her foot down, metaphorically. "I'm not gonna let this go. I see yer strugglin' with somethin' and I'm not gonna let it go."

Brooklynn growls and slams the bottom of her palm on the sink in frustration.

"Open up," Sammy insists. "You might be surprised by who can relate to you and sympathize with you."

"I could say the same for you, but you decided to shut down and lie about taking my phone and stealing for Mantah Corp," Brooklynn says heatedly. "You know me and Yaz could've related to you in at least one way and might have even helped you, but instead, you hunkered down and kept it locked up. So don't go telling me to act differently about my problems!"

Before Sammy can argue, Brooklynn heads upstairs, where the paraplegic couldn't follow. "Brooklynn!" Sammy calls up repeatedly, but her friend refuses to come down. Eventually, Milton comes back from school and takes the watch from Sammy.

Dejected and feeling inadequate, the ranchgirl has her mother pick her up and take her back to her house, where the rest of the group was hanging out. "I find it ironic that y'all are over 'ere when I'm not," she says as she wheels herself into the living room.

"It's the new camp site!" Kenji shrugs, grinning stupidly. "Where's Brooklynn?"

Sammy shakes her head. "She's at her house right now."

"Did something happen?" Darius asks, worried.

Sammy fakes a smile. "We just had a little argument, that's all."

The group accepts it and goes back to their previous discussion. Kenji gives Sammy a questioning glance. She nods. He seems to understand that it was a similar explosion to the one he experienced two days ago and continues the conversation.

Halfway through their argument of "Is air actually poisonous and slowly killing us, but we have to have it to live?" Sammy notices how subdued Yasmina was. She figured the amputee was still smarting over having a flashback in class and breaking down. Some kid behind her had a slight cold and was breathing heavily. Not only did the sound trigger her normal sensitivity, but it also triggered memories of dinosaurs. She had trouble focusing in class as the flashback interfered with reality. Their English teacher, Miss Viviano, had noticed that she wasn't paying attention and reprimanded her. Yasmina had asked to go to the nurse or the bathroom—anywhere other than a room full of kids she didn't know—but the teacher thought she was seeking attention on purpose and denied her request. Yasmina had struggled to stay calm the rest of class and ultimately distracted the entire class and teacher for the rest of the period.

Miss Viviano had tried to give Yasmina detention for distracting the whole class and called Mrs. Fadoula. The amputee's mother was busy at work, so she called Mrs. Gutierrez, who promptly arrived and went off at the teacher. Needless to say, the English teacher was going to get an earful from Yasmina's mother later, and Yasmina didn't have to go to detention. Unfortunately, the story was spread around school and the amputee was extremely embarrassed.

"You okay, Yaz?" Sammy asks in concern.

The amputee lifts her head. "... Yeah?"

"You feelin' better after, well, uh…" Sammy winces, trying to think of a way to kindly put "having a meltdown in class and it being leaked throughout the school."

Yasmina shakes her head. "Just let it go…" she groans, wanting to forget it.

"That teacher should seriously get fired," Darius growls. "I mean, you said she gave you a hard time for having dyslexia, right Sammy?"

The paraplegic sighs, leaning back in her wheelchair. "Yeah, but she's not gonna get fired. The school's short of English teachers. Have been for a few years now. They kinda need her. I don't see her getting replaced anytime soon."

"You'd think we could get her fired for abuse of students," Kenji mumbles.

"She hasn't really abused anyone, she's just super harsh and not understandin' at all," Sammy rolls her eyes. "She made sure I knew she was frustrated with me for having to maneuver with a wheelchair, but she's never physically or verbally abused me."

"Still wish we could get rid of her," Darius huffs.

"Why didn't you leave the class?" Ben asks softly, petting his golden shepherd. "Your parents would defend you and dispute any punishment for it."

"I thought she would hit me," Yasmina mumbles. "She was so scary… snapping like a dinosaur at me… Doesn't help that it's a hassle to get in and out of the desk and out the door with crutches."

Darius barks out a laugh. "Try being unable to move one leg."

Sammy smiles. "Come on, girl, be positive. She needs you right now. She needs encouragement."

"I'm sure things will be easier when you get a prosthetic leg," the paraplegic states.

"When?" Yasmina asks in a gravelly voice.

"Yee, when," Sammy nods. "'When' means it's gonna happen, while 'if' means it's not definite. 'When' is more positive and encouraging."

"You make it sound like I will," the amputee says bleakly, giving Sammy a stare that made her look dead inside.

"I'm sure you will," the cowgirl nods. "It's not that hard to make, and you were super athletic before losing your leg. You'd definitely be able to bounce back—"

"Emphasis on the 'were,'" Yasmina grumbles.

"Yasmina, I know you'll become the inspiring Olympic athlete every little girl will look up to," Sammy says encouragingly, noticing Kenji grimacing out of the corner of her eye. "I know you can do it. You're—"

"Did you ever think that maybe I don't want to walk again?!" Yasmina snaps loudly, scaring Ben's pet. "I know I can get another leg, but I don't want to! Nothing can replace my original leg, why does everyone want to force me to?! I can't walk again! I can't run again! I will never be the same again, so stop forcing me to try to be!"

Sammy is taken aback by the outburst. "But…"

"Maybe I don't want to be inspirational!" Yasmina barks. "I don't have to be inspirational! Why do amputees have to be these awesome overcomers who are super positive and strong?! Why can't I just be a grumpy, negative hermit?! Why do I have to be a role model?! Why do you expect me to be you, Miss 'I pretend to be happy and positive all the time because that's my entire f****** personality'?!"

Yasmina gives Sammy a challenging look, daring her to reprimand her foul language. Sammy leans back in her wheelchair, taking in the explosion in horror. The boys are leaning back as far as they can, a little nervous of the amputee's outburst.

"I don't have to be inspirational," Yasmina snarls. "I don't have to be an Olympic runner. I… I can't be…" A flicker of fear passes through Yasmina's eyes as she speaks. "I can't run again. Stop trying to mother me into it. You're not my Mom, and I don't have to be positive like you. Especially not when you're faking it! You don't even believe the words you're saying, so stop trying to convince me to believe them!"

Yasmina gets up from the couch and tries to quickly limp away. Her left crutch catches on the couch and she falls over on her side with a grunt. Her four friends sit up and look over at her, but they're hesitant to actually get up and help the infuriated amputee.

Flopsy jumps off the couch and begins to sniff Yasmina in worry. "I'm fine!" she snaps at no one in particular and gets up. She limps off with a bruised side and ego and leaves the house. Flopsy follows through the doggy door.

Once she was out the door, Ben got up and looked out the window. "She's heading to the barn," he sighs with relief. "Rio's in there, right?"

"Yeah, Rio was heading out to the barn to practice," Kenji nods.

"Hopefully she can keep an eye on Yasmina," Ben says with worry, reluctantly sitting back down in his seat. "Plus, Flopsy is following her. I swear, I'm not sure if that's my dog or Yasmina's. Flopsy follows her around like Yaz owns her."

"I think she just knows that Yaz is going through something mentally," Darius says.

"Sammy?" Kenji asks, noticing his friend.

The paraplegic was trying not to cry. "You don't even believe the words you're saying, so stop trying to convince me to believe them!" Yasmina's words repeat. "Don't go telling me to act differently about my problems!" Brooklynn's words return.

"I'm failing," a disgusted voice hisses. "I'm not positive enough and my friends know it. I'm failing them… I'm failing God… I'm failing to be the nurturing friend he called me to be…"

"What's wrong?" Kenji asks, scooching closer on the couch.

"Nothing," Sammy shakes her head as a tear slips out.

"What did Brooklynn say?" Ben asks, hitting eerily close to the problem. "When you guys argued?"

"It's… it's fine," Sammy shakes her head. She didn't want to go into what the problem was.

"I'm not protective like Holly and Yaz…" self-hatred bemoans. "I'm not strong and I don't have the iron will it takes to protect my friends and family… I'm a nurturer, and I can't even nurture my friends… I'm the Mom friend and I can't even take care of them like I'm supposed to…"

"Sammy, it's not your fault Yaz exploded like that," Kenji says. "We were talking to her earlier about getting a leg and learning to walk again. I think she just had feelings building up and you happened to be the last straw. It's not anything you did."

"Yeah, that explosion sounded like a bunch of pent up feelings that became too much for her," Ben explains. "Don't take any of her words to heart."

Sammy couldn't accept that. "No, no, I'm fine," she insists, trying to put on a genuine smile. "This is how she always is. I'm fine. Sorry for… for that."

"For what? Getting upset when someone you care about explodes on you?" Kenji frowns. "You don't need to apologize for that."

"No, sorry for… it's fine," she shakes her head.

"You don't have to pretend to be fine, Sam," Darius pipes up. "If her words hurt you, you don't have to put on a smile and take it."

"No, I'm good," Sammy lies.

"What did you and Brooklynn argue about?" Ben asks.

"She… she's been acting strange lately," Sammy says, wincing as Darius sits forwards worriedly.

"Did you try to talk to her about it?" Kenji asks, leaning back on the couch.

"Well, we were talking about Yaz, and she… she seemed to wish she could take Yaz's place," Sammy starts. "I understand her. We all do that, but… you know her, it's self deprecating."

"It's okay to say you want to take your friends' suffering and mean it, it's another thing if you're obsessing over it and wishing it truly happened," Ben nods.

"Exactly," Sammy gestures to him. "And I told her I didn't want to see her pushed over the edge like she was on the island and she said she was just dealing with the same old crap as usual. I kept pushin' her to open up cause I was worried and she told me I was… I was such a Mom."

"Do you not like being the Mom friend?" Ben asks, sensing some pattern between the two arguments.

"No, I do, that's not the problem," Sammy lies quickly. "I told her to open up cause she has no idea who might be able to relate to her and help her…"

"And?" Darius pushes.

"And she told me that I couldn't say that after… after lyin' about Mantah Corp…" Sammy mutters.

"So, you… you feel like a hypocrite?" Ben asks, trying to figure out the root of the problem.

"Stop trying to figure out what goes on in my head!" she wants to shout at him. "Stop trying to make me open up! I can't open up! I can't be negative! I can't!"

"You're worried that you can't help your friends when they're struggling with something?" Darius suggests.

"You're scared of Mantah Corp?" Kenji asks.

"All of them are hitting really close," panic arises. "Have to hide it… I can't be negative.. I can't be a mess… I have to be positive… I have to be together for them…"

"Naw, just worried about Brooklynn and Yaz," Sammy says.

"And?" Ben asks, knowing there was more.

"And you, yer hands are tremblin'," Sammy says, trying to throw the conversation topic off of her.

"And?" Ben asks, not letting her off the hook that easily.

"And you," she says, refusing to budge. "Are ya anxious?"

"Is there something wrong?" Darius asks Ben. Sammy restrains herself from fist pumping in victory.

"I don't know," Ben sighs, holding up his trembling hand. "I guess I'm worried about Yasmina. I get nervous when she's alone… or at least, when I don't know if she's with someone else."

"Well, Flopsy followed—" Kenji started to say.

The Golden Shepherd puppy comes through the doggy door and sits by Ben's side, panting happily. "What are you doing in here, girl?" Ben asks in worry. "Where's Yasmina? Is she in trouble?"

"She seems a bit too happy for Yaz to be in trouble," Darius points out.

Sammy receives a text from Holly. "Rio and I are with Yaz. Let Ben know."

Feelings of jealousy rise up, and Sammy isn't sure why. "Holly and Rio are watching Yaz," she says grumpily, leaning back in her wheelchair.

Ben sighs with relief.

"What's wrong?" Kenji asks.

"Nothing, I'm fine," Sammy shrugs.

"Really?" he quirks an eyebrow.

"Yee," Sammy nods. To her disappointment, nobody hawed.

"Sam, we're not stupid," Darius says. "We can see that something's bothering you. You're kind of super emotional. You don't hide it easily."

"Huh?" Sammy asks, trying to play dumb until she could think of a good strategy.

None of the boys believed her. "What's wrong with that text?" Ben asks.

"Nothin'," Sammy lies. Falling back on her old excuse, she says, "Y'all continue to talk. I gotta go."

"Nope," Kenji says as he and Ben grab her wheelchair. "We're having therapy time for you. You always give us a therapy session; it's your turn."

Kenji wraps his arm around her back and other arm around her legs. "Wait, what are you—hey!" Sammy protests as he tries to lift her out of her wheelchair.

The boy didn't have a good grip on her and almost pitched forward. "Op, that didn't work," he grunts, setting her back down and trying again. Finally picking her up, he sets her down on the couch, and Ben pulls the wheelchair away from her reach.

"Now you can't escape our therapy session," Kenji grins mischievously, waggling his eyebrows at her.

For once, Sammy allows an expression of annoyance to cross her face. "Real mature."

"Hey, you and Yaz are the easiest to keep in a conversation," he snickers. "Take away your wheelchair and take away her crutches, and y'all are stuck."

Sammy crosses her arms. "Hey, you gotta respect the hustle," Kenji shrugs.

The paraplegic allows a laugh to escape her lips; he had a point. "Yee, but Yaz would drop to the ground and army crawl across the floor at an ungodly speed like an unholy lizard woman."

Ben shudders at the visual.

"I can see it," Darius laughs.

"And y'all would struggle carryin' my fat butt out of my wheelchair like you just did," Sammy chuckles, before realizing her mistake.

The boy's faces snap to attention. "Okay, body issues, we'll talk about that," Ben says.

"Why do you think you're fat?" Kenji asks.

"I didn't say that," Sammy backtracks.

"You said fat butt," Kenji says. "You implied that you feel fat."

"You read into it too much," she retorts.

"Well, hypothetically, why do you feel fat?" Darius asks. "You know, hypothetically, if you did."

"Hypothetically, I wouldn't have a problem," Sammy says.

"There it is," Darius hisses.

The other three freeze. "What?" Ben asks.

"You said you wouldn't, hypothetically, have a problem," he says with a low voice, dramatically. "Which means you would have a problem, in a non-hypothetical situation!"

"Darius," Sammy groans as the other two boys try not to erupt into giggles. "I'm fine, hypothetically and not hypothetically."

"Okay, but hypothetically, if you weren't fine, what would be the problem?" he asks, crossing his arms.

"Hypothetically, my problem with your problem is that your priorities are wrong," she states. "We've got Yaz and Brooklynn who are suicidal and depressed, and you're over here picking a fight with me."

"So, your problems aren't as important as theirs, and we should focus on them and not you," Ben restates.

"Exactly," Sammy nods.

"So, basically, as long as someone else has what seems to be a bigger problem, they're more important than you," Kenji crosses his arms.

"Pretty much," Sammy aggressively shrugs. "It's the selfless thing to do."

"But what if your problems slowly build to the point where they're bigger than everyone else's, but you refuse to acknowledge them because you don't want to be deemed selfish?" the oldest boy asks.

"That's in a hypothetical situation where yer assuming my problems would grow," Sammy says.

"So, everything else you've said is reality?" Ben quirks an eyebrow.

"Crap!" the paraplegic grimaces.

"Look, we just want you to stop fooling yourself," Ben says. "It's okay to be selfless, but you can't ignore the problems in your own head. We know you're dealing with something. Whether that be trauma or distorted body images or something else, you're dealing with something. It's okay if you want to deal with it internally or if you can't figure out what to say. The problem we have is that you're acting like you're not going through something."

"I'm not," she insists.

"Okay, we're not stupid," Kenji sighs. "We know something's going on in your head. Have you truly convinced yourself that your problems aren't as important as other peoples, or are you lying about it?"

The word "lying" triggers emotion in her. Anger, pain, frustration, and fear rise up at once and she's not sure how to react to it. Tears well up and spill out as she tries to keep a grip on her emotions. "Ha… I guess the lying thing is fair…"

"So this does have something to do with Mantah Corp?" Darius asks.

"No…" she grumbles.

"What do you hate the most about them?" Ben asks.

"That they're selfish and greedy and murderous and… and… scandalous?" Sammy snarls, anger rising up. "They're manipulative and care only for themselves—"

"And what do you hate about yourself?" Ben asks quickly.

"That I—" she starts to say, then shuts her mouth.

"That you…?" Darius blinks expectantly.

Sammy knew she was stuck… On one hand, she didn't want to talk about her problems. "I can't be negative. I can't let them see that side… I can't burden them with my feelings…"

On the other hand, they had trapped her. They knew she was struggling with something, and to pretend she wasn't was lying… And she strived to be honest…

"That I…" Sammy gulps. "That I lied to my family… and that I lied to y'all… And that I stole and broke the law… I… I've always strived to be honest… I've seen… I've seen the consequences that come from lying to your family and what deceiving can destroy… I just… I hate that I did it… I lied and stole and look what trouble it got us into… And it was all for nothin'... Nothin'! My parents had it under control… I had to go and take matters into my own hands and mess things up…"

"Do you wish you hadn't gone to Isla Nublar?" Darius asks.

The paraplegic bites her lip. "I mean… I wouldn't have met you guys if I didn't…"

"And you wouldn't have made it to Isla Nublar if you didn't agree to go with Mantah Corp," Kenji finishes. "Yeah, deceiving everyone isn't good… but sometimes lying is necessary to save you or other people. If Darius hadn't lied to InGen about the Indos, who knows what would've happened! Sometimes being brutally honest is worse than telling a lie. A good protector knows when to lie for the greater good."

Sammy chuckles bitterly, crossing her arms. "And of course, I'm not a protector."

"Does that bother you?" Ben asks. "You seemed to be happy being a nurturer."

"And it's not like you can't be both," Darius says. "Being both is great! It's okay if you lean more to one or the other or if you're somewhere in between. Both are great things to be."

"And yet, I suck at both of them!" she snaps.

"What do you mean?" Kenji asks in confusion.

"All my life, I've been a nurturer," she mumbles. "I've always had this instinct to take care of others. I'm always thinking of my friends and family… How can I help them? How can I make things easier? How can I encourage them?"

"So… why does that bother you?" Ben asks.

Sammy is silent. "Because I want to be a protector…" she whispers. "Like my older sister… or Yaz… I want to be that strong older sister figure that swoops in to save you and won't let anything stand in between me and you. I want to be that strong heroine… But I never have… The one time I tried, I got my family in bigger trouble…"

"It's okay if you're not a protector, or that's not your primary instinct," Ben smiles. "Everyone's usually a mix of both. We need protectors, but we also need nurturers."

"But I'm failin' at nurturing," she mumbles. "Just look how well that went with Yaz and Brook."

"Okay, first of all, that's not fair," Kenji says. "Yaz is volatile and Brooklynn is shutting down and snapping for no reason. Guarantee tomorrow they'll both come back and apologize. Second, who says you're failing at nurturing? You're the Mom friend for a reason!"

"If you weren't the nurturing one, I wouldn't have given you that job on the island," Darius points out.

"Hey, if you're struggling with something mentally, you might not be doing as good of a job nurturing as you normally would," Ben argues. "But you're almost sixteen, you don't have to take on that role all the time. You're not actually a mother, and you don't have to take on that responsibility yet. It's not like you're failing at your job or something."

"Don't beat yourself up for 'not doing as good of a job taking care of your friends as usual,'" Kenji says, excessively using air quotes. "Why do you always have to be the nurturing one? Why can't we take care of you sometimes? Comforting and nurturing and protecting your friends and family is a two-way street. Don't take on the role all by yourself."

Sammy looks down at her hands, fiddling with them as she listens with tears.

"Yousa amazing friend, Sammy," Kenji says. "You don't have to be strong and positive for us all the time. We're not gonna drop you if you have a mental breakdown and need help."

"That thought process might be one reason why Brooklynn is shutting down and not seeking help," Ben points out.

Sammy nods, but their words fall on deaf ears. "Thanks guys," she says, smiling tearfully.

"Don't feel bad about being the sweet, nurturing friend," Darius says as the boys move in to hug her. "We need those peeps."

"Okay, okay," Sammy chuckles. "I gotta go."

"No, you gotta stay with us," Kenji insists.

"No, I gotta go," Sammy says, widening her eyes.

"Oh, you were serious about peeing," Kenji laughs, lifting her up as Ben brings the wheelchair closer and sets her in it. "I thought you were just trying to escape us."

"Nope," Sammy laughs, wheeling herself into the bathroom. As soon as she's safely within the confines of the restroom, her happy demeanor falls. "I can't be negative… I have to stay positive! God commands it… I can't let them see me be unhappy… I'm the happy one… I'm the positive one…"

"I can't break…"

---

"Sammy!" Yasmina says, limping up to her friend at the base of the courthouse. "I am so sorry about yesterday."

The paraplegic looks up from her bag. It was the first day of the trial, and Sammy was so nervous, she had already thrown up. Mrs. Pincus had provided her—and whoever else who needed them—with throwup bags. While waiting for the others to arrive, Sammy's stomach began to feel churny again and her mouth started to water. Ben—the expert on vomiting—told her that swallowing the saliva actually increased her chances of throwing up. So she had resorted to spitting into the throwup bag.

"Are you okay?" Yasmina asks, looking at her pale friend.

"I think the chances of me pukin' in the courtroom are higher than I wanna analyze," Sammy groans.

"Try taking small sips of cold water," Ben suggests, handing her a cold drink of water. "Or you could smell rubbing alcohol, that works. Or you could hum, it helps to not throw up."

"How do you know all this?" Sammy asks, taking the bottle of rubbing alcohol he handed her. "And why do you casually carry around this stuff?"
"Trust me, I've dealt with nausea quite a lot," he shrugs as he walks away. "Found some great tips. And I only brought that cause I knew the court case would be a nerve wracking situation."

"Anyway, I wanna say I'm s—" Yasmina starts to say.

"Whoo!" Sammy exclaims. "Lawd, that smells bad… woah, I actually don't feel sick now. Thanks, Ben!"

"Yeah, so I just wanted to say—" Yasmina tries again.

"Oh great, look at the paparazzi," Darius interrupts, rolling his eyes. The press had come to record the event, and the adults were forming a wall in front of the kids, specifically Sammy, so that they weren't harassed.

"Oh, I wish they'd just leave me alone," Sammy groans.

"Can I—" Yasmina lifts a finger.

"Can't they just record the trial and not hound us?" Sammy asks.

"Shut up and let me apologize!" the frustrated amputee snaps.

Sammy snorts. "Sorry," she laughs.

Yasmina's frown of frustration turns into an amused grin. "I'm sorry about yesterday when I snapped at you. You didn't deserve it… well, really, the boys didn't deserve it either. But they were talking to me about getting another leg and, well, I was already frustrated when you brought it up. It's been… well…" she stutters. "I'm just… I'm kinda scared of moving on… of getting a prosthetic and actually… I don't know, I'm just scared to move on. And everyone telling me I can do it and that I should move on was stressing me out. You happened to be the last straw. You didn't deserve that explosion, or the comments I made."

"The cursing?" Sammy quirks an eyebrow.

"I have been trying to work on my language," Yasmina rubs the back of her head with her left hand, left crutch under her arm. "But… cursing is one way to annoy you, and I kinda… I was lashing out in anger and wanted to tick you off. I'm sorry."

Sammy smiles. "It's okay." She pulls Yasmina into a hug.

"Please don't tell me to move on," Yasmina asks softly, pulling away. "It causes more anxiety in me than hope… And it's kinda hard to… well… I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too, Sam," Brooklynn says, coming up behind the paraplegic and hugging her. "I didn't mean what I said… I shouldn't have said those things to you."

A genuine smile creeps onto her face as her friends apologize. "It's okay. Thanks for makin' it right."

"Well, everyone's here," Mrs. Gutierrez sighs. "Should we head inside?"

"Oh, hope your physical therapy is helping your legs," a fake sympathetic voice says behind them.

The group turns. Tiff and Mitch are being escorted towards the building by, presumably, their guards. The two had been put under house arrest while awaiting trial. It seemed things hadn't gone so smoothly between the couple, as Mitch was sporting hints of a healing black eye.

The press begins to surround them and try to ask them questions. Their escorts push back against the crowd of reporters.

"It's truly terrible what happened to you all on the island," Tiff says, putting her hand to her heart in mock sympathy. From an onlookers perspective, she was truly sympathetic. You had to know her crimes to understand the mocking undertone.

"Who do you think you're fooling?" Mr. Gutierrez sputters. "No one out here believes yer innocent, drop the act."

The six families and the criminals head into the building, where they're given a bit of privacy from the press. Tiff's sympathetic demeanor is replaced with haughtiness. She tilts her chin up, shifts her weight onto her right leg and sticks out her left leg. "Might as well be sympathetic for you pathetic farmers. Justice will be served there."

Her smug smile said she was sure the jury would side with them. Considering the company could pay for a favorable outcome for themselves, the families had something to worry about. Mitch, on the other hand, was a lot quieter. It sure wasn't repenteness, but he was not as conceited about it. It seemed he was being a bit more realistic about the court case and wasn't so sure that they would win. It was hard to argue with the evidence the campers had stacked against them, and they would have to bribe quite a lot of names to go free.

Or perhaps Mitch knew it wasn't a smart idea to openly rub it in the faces of his victims.

"Yes, justice will be served," Mr. Gutierrez growls.

Tiff chuckles smuggly. "I don't think you want that."

"Psychopath," Yasmina mutters under her breath.

"Well, what are we waiting out here for?" Roxie asks, coming up behind Tiff. The Camp counselor conveniently neglects to miss Tiff's outstretched foot and steps hard on the blondie's exposed foot with her sharp heel.

Tiff immediately pulls it back in pain. "F****** b****," she curses under her breath, glaring at Roxie.

"Accidents happen," Roxie shrugs unapologetically as Dave shrinks behind her, cowering before the fuming criminal.

Tiff and Mitch head into the courtroom—the former glaring and limping. Her foot was bleeding slightly where Roxie had stabbed it.

"Totally an accident," Brandon snickers.

"I didn't say that was an accident," the Brit smirks, crossing her arms.

The group heads into the room and take their seats. The Gutierrez's and Pincus's take the first row on the right side and the other families take up the rows behind them. As the court assembles, the campers do whatever they can to ease the anxiety and keep busy. Ben was sitting next to Sammy and the two read Ben's Bible to stay calm. Brooklynn obsessively scrolled through her phone while Darius sat next to her, alert, like her protector. Yasmina and Kenji sat next to each other close to the end of the bench, with Kenji's father on one side and Habeeba on the other. Kenji used humor to get himself through anxiety-causing situations, while Yasmina's humor was always dark. The two's conversation promptly turned morbid.

"How do you think the case will go?" Kenji asks quietly.

"The usual," the amputee shrugs, deadpan. "Tiff and Mrs. Gutierrez will start yelling at each other and the Judge will order everyone to be quiet. A book is thrown. We'll win the case, and Tiff will get super angry. She'll pull out a gun and try to shoot Sammy and someone will jump in front to take the bullet."

Sammy, Ben, and Rio turn to stare at Yasmina.

"Pfff, pfff, pfff!" Kenji tries to keep his lips shut, but his attempts are in vain. "You know it'd be Mr. Gutierrez."

"It would," Yasmina giggles. "The bullet probably wouldn't even faze him."

Mr. Gutierrez—who was sitting in front of them—turns around in his seat and good naturedly slaps them around, grinning as they wheeze.

The court is called to order and the trial starts. If Sammy thought she was nervous before the trial, she was kidding herself. That was butterflies in her tummy compared to what she felt inside the courtroom. She was scared she would have a full blown panic attack. Her stomach was made worse when she saw David and Shan's families.

"Do you guys have families?" Sammy asked.

Three daughters and two sons," David chuckled reminiscently. "As wild as they can get. Course, they grew up in the woods of Michigan."

"I'm twenty-four and counting," Shan laughed. "No wife yet. I'm too goofy to keep a girlfriend. I do have an overprotective mother who's been trying to call me ever since I came here, though."

A woman with three daughters and two sons sat behind them a couple rows back. The children's faces bear resemblance to David, the burly, protective guard who tried to save Sammy. Their faces looked bleak. An older woman was sitting next to them, handkerchief to her mouth, barely holding it together. Sammy had to guess that it was Shan's mother.

Sammy turns around and stares at her hands, feeling guilty for their deaths.

Witnesses come forward to give testimonies and be questioned. Sammy was the first witness to go up. She felt like her tongue was made of lead as her father wheeled her up to the witness stand. The prosecutor asked her questions about what happened and interrogated her account. Even though the lawyer was on her side and defending her, Sammy felt attacked and couldn't stop sweating. As she told her account, Sammy could see her friend's jaws drop in horror. She hadn't told them what had happened. There were certain events towards the end of the journey that if you were not present for or unconscious during, you probably wouldn't get to know about until later.

As she told her account and her face grew paler and paler, she watched Tiff and Mitch. The man was more sullen and quiet. When their eyes met fleetingly, Sammy could've sworn there was regret. But there was no remorse with it—only anger. He shakes his head and rolls his eyes; it was the regret of getting caught and not killing her himself.

The woman, on the other hand, was completely unapologetic. She had her arms crossed and was leaning back against the chair she was in. In her mind, she was going to get away with her felony. She didn't have to be sympathetic while Sammy told her story—if Tiff could push her own narrative through bribery, Sammy was lying. The psychopath didn't have to be sympathetic towards a "liar."

Miraculously, she never threw up and only stuttered a couple times. After the defendant questioned her, she was allowed back to her seat so that the next witness could go up for their turn. To her surprise, Yasmina got up and was the next witness. The amputee told her side of the story, and what happened outside of the tent.

"Why did you and the other campers leave Miss Gutierrez alone with Mantah Corp?" the prosecutor asks.

"Because the last time she came into contact with them, they made her steal from InGen for them by threatening to send her family into bankruptcy," Yasmina says in her usual, gravelly voice. She almost seemed tired, but Sammy could detect anger in her tone. "We didn't trust them with her, and we were basically defenseless. So we headed to one of the other labs to find something to bargain with. They wanted InGen secrets and stuff; it seemed like something we could use to bargain with should they hold her hostage."

"And what was her state when you found her again?" the prosecutor asks.

Yasmina thinks for a second. Her artistic mind was trained to remember minute details, which came in handy in this situation. "She was laying on the grass. She was conscious when we found her, but staring up at the sky in shock. Her chin and neck were showing beginning signs of bruising and she had three bloody cuts on her cheek. Her right forearm had a cut along it and blood was smeared around her face, neck and chest. Her hair was drying and she had red stains on her face, like she had swam in semi-bloody water."

"And did you know what happened to her when you guys were gone?"

"No, we had trauma of our own trying to survive and find evidence. When we found her, we were just trying to figure out what to do next. We didn't describe our traumatic events to each other."

"Not even when you were safe at home?"

"Nope, still too traumatic for us. We've only recently been finding out some things we missed. Today was the first time we heard what happened to her."

After the prosecutor talked to her, the defendant got to ask her questions. "You said you were basically defenseless. Did you have weapons or not?"

"I had a bow and quiver," Yasmina says. "Only three arrows. Ben had a spear. And we had two rifles with limited ammo."

"And why didn't you use those weapons?"

"I only had three arrows, and Ben's spear was for close range fighting. Sammy is the only one proficient with a rifle. Kenji and Darius could shoot, but they were mediocre at best. Brooklynn's weapon was a baseball bat we found in the woods. Between our limited weapons and Mantah Corp's well supplied rifles and dozens of sharpshooters, who do you think would win if we were to get into a fight?"

"And did you or did you not have dinosaurs under your command?"

"Yes, an unpredictable Triceratops—who's the reason Sammy fell down the hill in the first place—that ran away to who knows where. We also had a juvenile Ankylosaurus and tiny hybrids."

"And why didn't you use those to your advantage?"

"We did. We rode the Ankylosaurus to the lab to find secrets to bargain with Sammy. They had several carnivores and other tough herbivores chained and caged that were very dangerous and hard to battle. If we needed to, we could've used Bumpy, but what good would she do against dino hunters?"

"Why didn't you use the hybrids you claim to have as a bargaining chip?"

Yasmina barks out a laugh. "We had already dealt with two of Wu's dangerous hybrids. We had trained up the tiny ones we had since they hatched in an attempt to keep them from turning on us. After the Indominus rex, would you want to give them potentially dangerous hybrids? Giving secrets from one shady company to another shady company is a dangerous game, but directly letting them get their hands on a dangerous hybrid was something we didn't want to do. So we offed them. We didn't want another Indominus rex roaming the streets of New York or something. They already had the T-rex pulling that stunt years ago."

"If intell didn't appease them, would you have given them the hybrids?" the defendant asks.

"Don't know," Yasmina shrugs. "I would like to say there was a limit to how much we'd risk for Sammy, but she's like a sister. If Mantah Corp had pushed us far enough, we might have given up the hybrids for her. Maybe not? We weren't at that point, so I can't say what we would do. You can theorize and claim what you would do in our situation all you want. You have no idea what lengths you'll go to for your friends in that situation."

After finishing up questioning her, Yasmina is allowed back to her seat.

The next witness to come up and testify was David's wife. She explained that her husband truly believed that Mantah Corp was working to preserve and rescue dinosaurs, much like they did with woodland critters around their home. He was trying to help animals and expressed a desire to help rescue the campers stuck on the island. "We had all heard about the kids stuck on the island," she says, lip quivering. "When my husband found out he was going to the island, they told him it was to rescue the dinosaurs and bring them to a safe, wildlife preserve, as well as other business that was classified. He truly believed the classified business was searching for and rescuing the campers, and he was hoping to find them. What Samantha described…" she takes a moment to wipe her nose and eyes, "is exactly what my husband would do. That's what David would do…"

The next witness was Mr. Gutierrez. He explained the story of what happened to the barn and how Mantah Corp had loaned them money and promised that they could pay it back at the pace that they could. He had thankfully kept the papers and official documents that the prosecutor showed to the jury. He also had a recording Miriam had taken of the first meeting. She had been recording the barn burning for documentation, and Mitch had promised to help them. The man had promised that they could pay it back over time. Miriam had unintentionally recorded the whole thing.

"Now are you glad I was videoin'?" Miriam hisses to Holly, who rolls her eyes.

Another witness came to the stand, although Sammy wasn't sure who it was. She soon revealed by her testimony that she was some official in the state of Georgia. She disputes the claim that Mantah Corp had bought land in Georgia for the dinosaurs to run around in a preserve—which was the story told by David and Shan. Other Mantah Corp employees in similar positions to the two guards also stated that Georgia was the state they were told the dinosaurs were going to. By the time she was finished, it was around dinner time, and the case was to be continued the next day.

The campers ate at Roxie's family restaurant, tired from the day. "Of course, this nightmare has to be dragged on," Sammy groans, half-heartedly taking a bite of her pizza.

"There's so many witnesses being used, they need more time to testify," Brooklynn explains. "I honestly don't know how Mantah Corp will win this case. They can't argue that they didn't find you; they have your headband and they found Mitch's pocket knife covered in your blood, which is really hard to explain away. Maybe they'll try to argue that you started fighting them and that's why your blood was found on his knife…"

"Even then, it doesn't explain why they left her on the island," Yasmina spits. Then she gags. "Ugh, slimy piece of wing," she grunts as she spits up the piece of buffalo wing she was gagging on.

"And getting into a fight doesn't really explain why he neatly sliced her cheek three times," Ben chimes in. "Those wounds were pretty neat. I know you were struggling when he gave them to you, but for them to be that clean, he'd have to have you held down pretty good. By then, it's not a fair fight and he wasn't defending himself, if that's the angle they're going for."

"Yeah, there's not much they can do to argue with the evidence," Darius nods.

"They might argue that since I was working for them, I was breaching the contract by not giving them the information," Sammy murmurs.

"That's still illegal to slice up your employees and threaten to kill them for not doing their job," Yasmina argues.

The next day, Owen Grady was brought up to the witness stand. The prosecutor and defendant asked him questions about dinosaurs and their behaviors. "And you believe there is no way that the marks on her face are from a dinosaur?" the defendant asked, looking a little tired. Sammy felt sorry for him; he had the impossible job of defending Mitch and Tiff. Even he seemed to believe they were guilty. Still, the criminals deserved a fair trial and someone to represent them. Even so, it seemed their own lawyer didn't believe their crap.

"Nope, couldn't be a dinosaur," Owen insists with a shrug.

"And how can you be so sure?" the defendant asked.

"For starters," Owen sighs. "The space between the 'claw marks.'"

A computer screen shows the picture of Sammy that Mitch and Tiff took.

"They took a picture?" Kenji hisses to Darius as Sammy flinches at the sight of her.

"The space between them isn't consistent," Owen says. "The mark in the middle is closer to the mark on the left than on the right. If they were dinosaur claws, they would either be closer or further apart from the middle. I haven't seen a dinosaur with uneven claws. It's possible, but not likely. The spacing between them also makes it hard to guess what dinosaur it was. It's too far apart to be a Compsognathus or another small, three clawed breed. It's too close together to be a velociraptor or larger breed of dinosaur, though.

"Those marks are pretty even in depth, like something cleanly sliced into her cheek," Owen continues. "A dinosaur wouldn't do that. It would go deeper in the middle as it claws at her." Owen makes a clawing motion. "If it starts at her cheekbone and ends just above her jawbone, the middle of the cut would have to be deeper, possibly breaking through into her mouth and catching her teeth. No, that's too neat to be a dinosaur."

"So, there is absolutely no way that that was made by a dinosaur?" the defendant asks.

"I'd say yes," Owen says. "There is no way. The fact that the only cuts and 'claw marks' she received in the few days before being rescued were those three and the one on her arm is suspicious. If she truly was attacked by a dinosaur and was close enough to get in range for it to slice her cheek that good, why doesn't she have other marks? How did she escape fast enough? And why is there only one cut on her arm instead of three like claw marks? The one on her arm was cut in the same, clean fashion as the ones on her face; it couldn't have come from falling on a rock or being sliced with a branch or something else.

"I'd also like to ask the jury why they have a good picture of her while she's clearly still alive," Owen continues. "Besides paralysis and the cuts, she's obviously in good shape." He gestures to Sammy sitting in her wheelchair. "You telling me that Mantah Corp found her body, took a good picture of her face, then somehow forgot to bring her back with them? Bulls***, I tell you."

Owen's time is over fairly quickly after that. His expertise was dinosaurs, and he had been questioned enough. He heads back to his seat behind the campers. Sammy could see his face twisted in fury. The injustice of the situation bothered him greatly, and if he could, he would go on and on with reasons why Sammy was innocent and taken advantage of by the evil corporation.

The rest of the trial—which extended into Monday—was a blur to Sammy. As more and more evidence came out, the smug look on Tiff and Mitch's faces slowly disappeared. There were a couple other Mantah Corp guards and employees that came to testify. Sammy could tell where they stood in the company. Those that were higher up were stoic and denied that anything happened. Those that were in the same position as the guards who tried to save her were ashamed and through pale faces, testified against their company. Tiff and Mitch's faces grew harder when they did, and Sammy prayed for the souls who stood up against the bloodthirsty tyrants.

Finally, Monday afternoon, the final conclusion came. They all held their breaths as they waited for the sentencing. The immense relief they felt when the judge declared Tiff and Mitch guilty was overwhelming. The Mantah Corp couple was given a life sentence for first degree attempted murder as well as stealing the dinosaurs and trying to remove them from the island. The families have a hard time staying composed. Even the defendant lawyer's face had relief etched into it. With how smug Tiff was acting, it was no surprise that he knew they were pretending to be innocent and was relieved with the others when they were charged for their crimes.

The faces of the criminals were extremely satisfying. The color had drained from Mitch's face as he waited for his sentencing; he knew what was coming. He hadn't reacted much when he was declared guilty—didn't stop his face from showing all his emotions. His face contorted in anger, dread, and reluctance. Tiff, on the other hand, just about went into a fit of rage. "What?! That little brat is lying!" she insisted, struggling against the officers escorting her out, continuing to insist that she shouldn't be sentenced.

"Tiff," Mitch sighed, going along without resistance.

"Don't you 'Tiff' me!" she snaps at him. "And you—" she whirls around to face Sammy as she's taken out of the room.

Sammy turns away to avoid looking at the psychopath. All at once, behind her, Yasmina, Kenji, the older brothers, and Sammy's older sisters flipped off Tiff with both hands. Sammy had to laugh at the sight of her friends and family flawlessly synchronizing flipping the bird. She turns around to see Tiff's face contorted in offense. "You…" she growls as she's brought out of the building.

"Darius," Sammy laughs, noticing that he had followed suit and flipped Tiff off.

"What?" he shrugs.

The six families leave the courtroom and the rejoicing commences. It became very loud; it was the sound of laughing, crying, and joyful hollering as the group hugs and talks over each other. "Oh my gosh, I was so nervous," Brooklynn sighs with relief.

"I wanted to object so many times," Mrs. Bowman laughs. "I forgot I wasn't the lawyer this time."

"Did y'all plan on flippin' her off at the same time?" Sammy asks.

"Naw, that wasn't planned," Miriam cackles.

"It was a spur of the moment where we all happened to have it at the same time," Yasmina shrugs with a mischievous grin.

"Call it a perfectly timed moment," Kenji laughs.

"Good grief, that could've gone worse," Mr. Gutierrez says, bent over with his elbows on his knees. "I thought they'd bribe the jury."

"We won!" Shelby exclaims.

"And on my tenth birthday!" Habeeba giggles.

"Oh—right! This was a special birthday present for you," Ghaleb says. He and Yasmina exchange a grimace. In all the excitement, they had forgotten about their younger sister's birthday.

"What do you want to do?" her mother asks.

"Celebrate my birthday and that we won the case!" Habeeba announces.

The little kids run out to the cars, shielded by the fathers from the press. Mrs. Fadoula grimaces. "In all this excitement, I couldn't get to baking her a cake or anything."

"Don't worry," Mrs. Gutierrez assures her. "We'll all pitch in. We can bake a birthday cake and a celebration cake. Lawd knows we'll need two to feed this group."

The group heads back to their houses. Mrs. Pincus and Ben headed over to Yasmina's house to help out. Ben's mother helped with the baking and cooking while Ben helped watch over Yasmina and entertain Habeeba. The Gutierrez's prepared their house and yard for a last-minute celebration. The other three families pitched in as best they could.

By dinner time, Holly and Justin had driven over to the Fadoula's to help bring the food over, and the party commenced. The group played games and talked and celebrated two very important occasions. Mrs. Fadoula felt bad for not putting more thought into her daughter's party, but the newly turned ten-year-old was happy that her birthday fell on such an important win for the group.

After a while, Sammy rolled herself into a corner between the house and the deck, slightly out of sight of the party. It was out of character for her to want alone time, but she needed some space to work through the rollercoaster of emotions she was just put through. She was relieved, tired, and to her surprise… sad?

"What are you doing?" Yasmina breaks the paraplegic's thoughts, limping around the deck.

"Just… need space," Sammy sputters.

"It's been a rough three days," Yasmina chuckles.

"Tell me about it," Sammy rolls her eyes.

"So, what are you feeling?" the amputee asks, sitting down next to Sammy's feet.

She sighs. "Glad… sad… a little bit mad… Pfff."

"Mind elaborating, Dr. Suess?" Yasmina quirks an eyebrow with a grin.

"I'm happy that they've gone to prison," Sammy sighs. "Hopefully they stay in long enough that they'll change or go… Don't want them injuring anyone else with their cruelty…"

"So, why are you sad and a little bit mad?" Yasmina asks.

"I was kidding about the mad part," the paraplegic chuckles. "It rhymed…"

"So why are you sad?" the amputee prompts.

Sammy chews on her lip. "I'm sorry for lying to you… I'm sorry for not telling you what I was doing…"

Yasmina nods. "It's okay. I've forgiven you… I mean, I have my fair share of things I don't want to tell anyone about… It's in the past. You proved you're trustworthy again."

"Yaz, all of your secrets are personal traumas," Sammy says. Her friend barks out a laugh in mock offense. "I think my secret was worse… I was breaking the law…"

"So? You were trying to save your family," Yasmina shrugs. "It wasn't right, but you were doing it for a good cause."

"But does that make it right?" the paraplegic asks. "Is doing something wrong to save someone you care about okay?"

"It's a tough call," the amputee murmurs. "A grey area."

"And what would you say?"

"Mm… I'd say it depends. Would also depend on what you define as right and wrong. If right is…" she searches up definitions. "If right is morally good, justified, or acceptable, and wrong is… unjust, dishonest, or immoral, then it depends on the situation. I think in situations like yours, where you were backed into a corner and made to choose, doing the wrong thing for the right reason is okay. From your perspective, if you didn't spy on InGen and steal, you and your family would go through hardships."

"So it's okay to steal and lie if it saves your family?" Sammy asks.

"If this was a war, would it be ok?" Yasmina counters. "Say InGen was Germany and Mantah Corp was… uhh… Russia."

"Why those two?" Sammy giggles.

"Germany was the first country that popped into my mind and I think Russia is close…" the amputee mutters. "I don't know geography, just go with it. If those two countries were at war, and Russia—Mantah Corp—sent a spy to Germany—InGen—would it be wrong for them to steal and spy? Lying is generally considered a bad thing and so is stealing. The spy would be lying to InGen about their true intentions and stealing valuable intel, but they were doing it to win the war and save their country from more destruction. Isn't spying and stealing a good thing in that situation?"

"I don't know…" Sammy sighs. "I guess in that situation, it's necessary to defeat your adversary, and you'd use whatever you can to do it… but there's gotta be rules and morales… how far are you willing to go?"

"Yeah, that's a good point," the amputee nods, pulling her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

"How far would you be willing to go in war?" the paraplegic asks. "Would you be okay stealing from the other side? Would you be okay killing their soldiers in battle? I guess in war, those things are acceptable. But how far is too far? When have we crossed the line? How about torturing someone for information? How about sneaking behind enemy lines and killing them while they're unarmed? How about destroying their land and starving their citizens into surrender?"

"There's a lot of aspects to it," Yasmina says. "It's not a right or wrong, black or white situation. It depends on the circumstances, the possible choices, the knowledge, the stakes, and the motivations. How about in your situation? The circumstances were: you guys were in trouble and needed help, then were cheated out of it and threatened. The possible choices were to somehow find the money, go into bankruptcy, or you spying. The stakes were you and your family's home and life being disrupted and torn apart. Your motivations were to save your family from losing everything."

"What would you say about that?" Sammy asks, bleakly.

"I'd say that was okay," she shrugs. "You were put between a rock and a hard place and were basically powerless against Mantah Corp. I don't think it was evil of you to choose spying over losing your family's home."

"But we wouldn't have, I misread the situation," Sammy groans.

"But you didn't know that at the time," Yasmina argues. "That's where knowledge comes in. you made the best decision regarding your information and circumstances that you could."

"It wasn't my decision, it should've been my parents!" she snaps.

"Still doesn't make you evil!" Yasmina retorts. "Still doesn't make you deserve the treatment Mantah Corp gave you! Yeah, your decision might have made things worse, but that doesn't make you bad or horrible. You shouldn't have been in that situation to begin with. You were trying to survive and help your family. If you weren't being threatened, you wouldn't have made those decisions to begin with!"

Sammy turns her face away. "You've been blaming yourself for all of this, haven't you?" Yasmina asks.

"I guess…" the paraplegic mumbles. "I know that Mantah Corp is the criminal organization and they were puttin' us in a hard place… it still doesn't make what I did right, and… part of me feels like I deserved the torture they put me through…"

"No," the amputee says firmly. "You can't say that. If I can't blame myself for events and wish that I was dead or hurt to make up for it, you can't believe that you deserved that treatment. Just because you lied and stole doesn't mean you deserved to have your life threatened, especially not by the people who made you do it in the first place. It's not okay for them to make you break the law, then torture you to force you to give them what they want. They're the criminals, not you. You were doing what you had to in that situation for you and your family to make it. Don't blame yourself.

"It takes you down a dark road that's very hard to get out of…" she adds softly.

"What?" Sammy squints, trying to hear her.

"Blaming yourself causes more anguish than good," Yasmina says. "You can't go back and do it again. Dwelling on it only drives you deeper and deeper into self hate and pain. Learn from your mistakes and move on. Move on before it becomes so ingrained in you that the guilt becomes your identity."

"Sounds like you speak from experience," Sammy smiles slightly.

"Nah, I saw it in a movie," Yasmina grins sarcastically. "Come on, you can trust me when I say that guilt and self blame don't help you if you hold onto them. And hey, if you truly wanna believe that the torture you recieved was payback for lying and stealing, you got what you deserved then. Tiff and Mitch got what they deserved today. It's over. Your sins have been payed for. You can move on. If that's what you truly believe. Either way, you don't have to obsess over your mistake."

"I guess that's a good point," Sammy nods.

"Just… try to make a conscious effort to forgive yourself," the amputee nods. "Say it. Say 'I forgive Sammy Gutierrez.'"

The paraplegic laughs. "I forgive Sammy Gutierrez. Now you say, 'I forgive Leah… whatever her last name is.'"

"You mother fricker," Yasmina scowls, making her friend cackle and snort. "But seriously, just forgive yourself. It's hard… but I've been trying to do it… Maybe you should, too."

Sammy smiles. "Thanks, Yaz."

"Ehh, the party's over here!" her father comes over to them. "Ya stuck, toots?"

"Naw, just talking," the cowgirl smiles. "Wanna head back?"

Yasmina sighs and lays back on the grass. "Fine…" But she was grinning.

---

"Ghaleb, stop it!" Habeeba screeches, laughing and shrieking as her older brother jumps up and down with her on his shoulders. "Stop! Hey!"

"But you're laughing!" he protests, making her laugh even more.

"You're gettin' a little too heavy for this Sandra," Miriam grunts, her younger sister sitting on her shoulders, too. The nine year old pouts.

"I'm not," Shelby brags, sitting atop Justin's shoulders.

Brandon looks over at Darius. "I'd try, but it wouldn't help you."

"You can pick Jaba up," Darius grins at Yasmina's younger brother.

"No, no, no," Jabari shakes his head as Brandon advances on him. A chase ensues and Brandon finally catches up, grabs the boy, and carries him upside down.

Kenji crosses his arms and pretends to pout. "I don't have anyone to carry."

"Ah, cheer up," Brooklynn grins, sitting on Milton's shoulders. "Be happy."

"What if I don't want to?" the alpha male asks, planting his hands on his hips.

"I'll make you," Brooklynn threatens.

"You'll have to catch me first!" Kenji declares, running towards the house.

"Mill, go after him!" she laughs.

Her brother runs after Kenji as fast as he can with his sister on his shoulders. The wild Kenji races up the stairs and onto the deck. Milton neglects to remember how tall Brooklynn was and runs up the stairs after him. Brooklynn bangs her head on the roof and topples backwards.

With lightning fast reflexes, Sammy and Yasmina's fathers dive towards her. Mr. Fadoula reached her first. While he couldn't catch her entirely, he did prevent her from hitting her head. Mr. Gutierrez comes to a halt, having been too slow.

"Ow," Brooklynn grimaces, rubbing her backside where she landed on the wooden stairs. "Milton!"

"Sorry!" he winces.

"I'll carry her, you nincompoop," Kenji huffs, sticking his nose up at Milton as he picks up Brooklynn and hoists her onto his shoulders.

Brooklynn laughs. "Thanks, but I want a break from being the paperweight."

"Suit yourself," Kenji laughs, letting her down. The party continues as Mr. Gutierrez and Uncle Travis bring out the horses to allow the little kids to ride them. Taking a bit of a break from being in the rowdy party, Kenji hangs back behind the deck to breathe. He begins to clear his phone's notifications when he accidentally clicks on a news article. "No, that's not what I wanted…" he starts to say, then reads the title. "Camp Cretaceous survivor accused of assault."

"What sort of rumors is Leah spreading now?" his mind immediately jumps to.

Scrolling down to check out the article, his face begins to pale. "New Jersey High school senior, Lydia Andronica, has recently come forth with allegations of assault… New Jersey…"

His hands tremble as he scrolls through, looking for her face. Her name was hauntingly familiar… and the fact that she was from his home state and a senior in highschool scared him…

A video comes up in the article and the teens face makes Kenji's eyes go wide. "No…"

"I told him that I was pregnant," Lydia says in the video, her lower lip trembling. "He immediately turned violent… I told him I was getting an abortion and he ordered me to go through with the pregnancy… He was threatening… choking me… he tried to force me to keep the baby… I couldn't stay with Kenji…"

"No…" he whispers, shocked by her allegations against him.

"Now… seeing him becoming a celebrity… a victim… it makes my blood boil," Lydia continued. "He doesn't deserve that sympathy… How many other girlfriends has he abused? How many other girls did he get pregnant and force to go through with their pregnancy? I just… I want to come forward to stop a violent, selfish playboy. I'd hate to keep this information a secret and see Kenji abuse the girls in the group… They've been through enough already…"

Kenji clicks out of the article and turns off his phone, leaning against the deck as he pants. "She didn't… she couldn't! I never hit her, never threatened her! I couldn't even get a word in with her shouting! I never forced her to do anything! … Did I? Was I commanding? I don't think I was… I… I didn't threaten her…"

Kenji begins to question his tone when he first talked to her about the pregnancy. He was sure that she began yelling at him and that he was too confused to argue. All he had asked was that she let him keep the baby. Begged her, really. But after her accusation… he was starting to question himself.

"Kenj, what are you doing?" Ben asks, peeking around the corner.

Kenji's face changes. "Just taking a breather, that's all."

"Okay, they're serving the cake if you want some," Ben says. "You know it'll disappear quickly," he adds with a laugh.

"Oh, yeah," Kenji chuckles as he follows his friend, hiding the fact that he was being gaslighted by these accusations and completely panicking about it. "Don't say anything about it… not right now… it's a celebration… No need to ruin it…"

---

"I am tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrred," Brooklynn sighs, flopping down on her couch. "School is exhausting."

"Yep," Ben says, leaning on the back of the couch.

"I wish we didn't have school," she yawns, turning over onto her back to face him. "It's not like we're learning anything or graduating. It's like a waste of time. Wish we could be homeschooled together."

"Brook, if we were homeschooled together, we still wouldn't learn anything," Ben grins as she laughs. "It'd all be goofing off and ridiculous conversations."

"Fair point," she wheezes.

"Still, I think I'd prefer homeschooling over public school right now," Ben says. "We could learn things at our own pace. Less bullies to deal with. More socializing than most people would think. Your parents can basically decide when to go on a field trip and they'd have more freedom to go to different places, allowing you to socialize with people of all age groups."

"The absence of bullies is my biggest perk," the Youtuber says, sitting up and crossing her legs.

"Darius would definitely agree with you," the boy nods. "He's been giving other kids the death glare if they even look at you… or any of us, for that matter."

"Speaking of, where's Darius and the others?" she asks.

"Uhhh…" he sputters. "I know Yaz has a therapist appointment today—"

Brooklynn bursts out laughing. "Oh gosh, you better pray for Miss Anita after that. She won't get through Yaz's stubborn shell."

"I haven't met her yet," Ben chuckles. "Is she good?"

"Oh, she's really good," Brooklynn nods.

"Ten dollars Miss Anita gets through Yaz's shell," he crosses his arms.

"Bet," she laughs.

"I think Darius is out with his Mom and Brandon," he continues. "I'm not sure where Kenji and Sammy are…"

"Oh well," Brooklynn shrugs. "Maybe they're back at the ranch."

"Probably," Ben shrugs.

"How would P.E. work in homeschooling?" Brooklynn asks, looking up from her phone. "Would you just run around the house?"

"Not like we don't do that anyway," he remarks. "I don't know… At least half of my cousins are homeschooled. I think they count physical activities towards P.E. Dance, climbing, sports, and other activities like that."

"Oh… guess that makes sense," she nods.

"What would you pick for P.E. if you could?" Ben asks.

"Uhh…" she chews on her lip. "I like mountain and rock climbing. Those are fun. Swimming…"

"Would you take ballet again?" Ben asks. "I know you did that before."

"Ehh… maybe not," she shrugs. "I did it for years, but life got busy and I couldn't keep going. Things were busy between school and my channel, so…"

Sensing an opportunity to talk to her—or get yelled at like Kenji and Sammy were—he jumps on it. "Filming for your channel took up a lot of your life, didn't it?"

"I… I guess you could say that," she shrugs hesitantly. "I started falling behind in school work, so my parents pulled me out of ballet… It was that or my channel. I'd pick my channel over ballet anyday," she says quickly.

"Would you want to make that your occupation again or would you move on?" Ben asks.

"Just because everything else in my life has changed doesn't mean that has to change," Brooklynn argues.

"I know," he nods. "I just thought that maybe because you were bullied and manipulated during that time you'd have PTSD from it."

"I don't have PTSD from my time on Youtube," she huffs.

"Agitation, irritability, self-destructive behavior, avoidance of situations that bring back memories of the trauma," the boy counts off of his fingers.

"Oh, really? And how do any of those apply to me?" she crosses her arms in irritation.

"The… agitation and irritability apply to now," Ben gestures to her agitated posture. "The self-destructive behavior can be proven by the cut scars on your wrist that happened before the island. And you've been avoiding anyone under the label of 'popular' and such at school."

She aggressively shrugs. "Maybe after meeting you guys, I lifted my standards and they don't meet them."

Ben sighs. "My point is, I don't think you're completely over what Leah did."

"Oh, I'm over it," she insists. "I am very much over it." She aggressively tosses her phone onto the other couch. "Definitely over it. Couldn't be more over it. I'm so over it, you wouldn't know there was a problem."

The boy has to bite his lip from laughing at how not over it she was acting. "Yeah… cause people who are over it aggressively yeet their phones."

"Well, maybe I'm different from other people who are over it," she suggests.

"Or it's still bothering you," Ben says. "I'm worried for you. It feels like you're backtracking out of fear of Leah."

"Well, you've read everything wrong!" she snaps, pointedly turning away from him to stare at a picture on the wall.

"Have I?"

"Yes."

"If there was no problem, why are you so irritated?"

"Because you're harassing me!"

"I wouldn't be pushing if you were acting normal."

"I am normal!"

"This isn't normal behavior."

Brooklynn turns away again and completely ignores him, refusing to answer his questions or respond.

Ben sighs. "I wouldn't be pushing this fight if I wasn't worried for you. You're not acting okay, and we don't let this behavior go unnoticed. With you, any strange or abnormal behavior is something to worry about."

The Superstar still refuses to answer him.

"Look, you've been pushed to the edge once," he groans. "We were lucky to grab you before you jumped. I'm not letting you hole up and possibly kill yourself if I can."

"I don't have to tell you anything," Brooklynn whips her head around and hisses. "We're not the closest of the group. I'd go to Yaz or Darius about this. Or Kenji and Sammy. You're the last one in the group that I'd go to!"

"You're the last one in the group that I'd go to!" Brooklynn's words repeat in Ben's head.

Before doubt can take over, Ben dispels it. "Something is bothering her and she wants to hide it. I've gotten close and she's lashing out in anger because of it. Don't lose hope. God is greater than the circumstances. I trust that he is in control and I will not entertain doubt."

"Whatever is bothering you, it's okay," he says calmly, smiling. "Whether Leah gaslighted you or you did something wrong, it's okay. We're not going to judge you, and neither is God. He knows everything about you, and he won't hold it against you if you turn to him."

Brooklynn agitatedly gets off of the couch and storms upstairs to her room. Ben sighs. "Stuck around longer than I thought she would," he mumbles to himself, following her upstairs and knocking on the door.

"Go away!" she snaps.

"Nope, I'm not supposed to leave you alone," he insists.

"I'm fine and I don't want to talk to you!" she hisses through her locked door.

"Fine, we don't need to talk," Ben crosses his arms. "But I'm not leaving you alone in a locked door. Until you're not suicidal, you can't be alone without some form of supervision."

"Why don't you just stay outside the door then," she grumbles.

"Don't trust you that much," he says.

There was silence before the door was unlocked and she opened it. "Fine, but only because that's now the stupid rule for me," she growls, very irritated with the situation.

"Okay," Ben says quietly, sitting down at her desk and turning on his phone.

---

Outside the front door, Sammy and Kenji had arrived to visit. "Where's the darn key?" Kenji mumbles as he rummages through his pocket. "Ah! Here it is."

He unlocks the door and goes to open it when the two hear a shout. After a bit of muffled snapping, they hear: "You're the last one in the group that I'd go to!"

Kenji and Sammy exchange a worried look. The boy cracks open the front door so that the two could hear the argument better.

"Whatever is bothering you, it's okay," Ben says calmly, hardly reacting at all to Brooklynn's volatile statement. "Whether Leah gaslighted you or you did something wrong, it's okay. We're not going to judge you, and neither is God. He knows everything about you, and he won't hold it against you if you turn to him."

Brooklynn stormily heads upstairs. The two outside could hear her stomping up the steps. Ben follows. Once the two were upstairs, Sammy and Kenji entered the house. "Well, I guess it's not just us she does that to…" Sammy murmurs as Kenji locks the door.

"He didn't handle that too well," Kenji thinks. "Provoking her doesn't seem to do any good… Especially when he's implying that she would have something for his God to forgive her of… Well, guess he can't always be perfect at handling emotional situations."

"She's been holin' up recently," Sammy sighs. "It makes me worried. It's like she doesn't trust us with whatever is going on."

"It can be hard to open up about something bothering you," he shrugs. "Especially when you've justified why you're shutting down."

"Yeah…" she nods. "I wish she wouldn't. It ain't doin' her any good. And we can all see somethin's going on. She can't hide it… she's more stubborn than sneaky, pretendin' nothin's wrong."

"Sounds like something familiar," Kenji comments.

"What?" Sammy quirks an eyebrow.

"Um…" Kenji bites his lip. "Well, I've already said it…" "Well… we've kinda been telling you the same thing."

Sammy crosses her arms.

"You know, we all can see that you're not genuinely happy, but you still insist that you are," he grimaces. "You're kinda doing the same thing."

"I am not," she says.

"How is this different?" he asks.

"It's different," she says vaguely.

"How?!" he prompts.

"I…" she sighs, frustrated. "I can't be negative."

"Wha-why?" Kenji asks in confusion. "Why can't you be negative?"

"I just can't…" she murmurs. "You wouldn't understand."

"Why wouldn't I understand?!" he snaps. "You haven't even given me a chance to understand!"

"Fine! God commands us to be positive in all circumstances, okay?!" she snaps back.

Kenji's face contorts in confusion. "What, so you always have to be happy and positive? Can't ever be negative?"

"Yeah," she nods.

"But you're not happy," he laughs. "You're not positive!"

"Well, I have to act like it," she insists.

"So you're pretending to be happy and positive when you're not?" he argues. "Isn't that like lying?"

"It's not lying, it's keeping up my spirit so that I don't become depressed or bring you guys down!" she snaps.

"Well, look how much good that's doing!" he retorts. "You're clearly happy! You do realize that you insist that all of us open up and talk about what's bothering us, but you refuse to do the same thing!"

"I can't. Be. Negative," she hisses.

"But Ben can," Kenji points out. "Back on the island. He helped all of us open up and he wasn't being positive."

"He was being realistic," she snarls.

"Realistically, you're not happy!" he snaps. "Whatever you're doing isn't working!"

"Maybe you just don't understand!" she argues.

"Maybe you just don't trust me with your inner self!" he retorts.

"Maybe we have different ways of handling situations!" she huffs.

"Maybe you're being irrational!" he claps back.

Sammy shakily sighs. "Well, maybe I'm not the perfect Christian Ben is."

Kenji bites his lip. He could see how hurt she was, but with how angry they both were, there was not much he could do to fix the situation at the moment. They both needed to cool down. "Fine… I'll go check on Brooklynn."

The boy heads upstairs, and Sammy allows a couple tears to slip out. "I can't open up… I can't be negative…" her stubborn side insists.

Forcing herself to pull herself together, she picks up a magazine and flips through it as Ben comes downstairs. "What were you two arguing about?" Ben asks.

"Brooklynn," she lies.

Ben knew she wasn't telling the truth, but decided against talking about it.

There had been enough strife for one day.