And now, presenting, chapter two of mine and Emily's LOVELY, very socially acceptable fanfiction.

(Not.)

- 8 -

There I sat, in a bus for delinquents; in a shirt for a toddler.

Sounds like a joyride, right?

Everyone else was filing off of the bus to go for a restroom break, buy candy bars, sodas (well, maybe not so much for the kids with ADHD up the wall), pocket knives, lighters, pornos, etc.

You know, normal teenager things.

I just decided to wallow in my grumpy mood, and stay on the bus.

Miffy instructed us to get changed into our camp uniforms in the restrooms, but since I already had my shirt on, why not just pull the shorts on too? I mean, it's not as if anyone else was on the bus. Well, there was the driver, but he was asleep, and VERY heterosexual. He kept eyeing Miffy.

Then again, maybe he's bi. Because Miffy seems to be confused.

This sucked ass. And not even in the good way.

With twenty bucks in my pocket, I walked into the gas station, and grabbed about ten Mars Bars. What? Don't look at me like that; I needed them. Badly. I then purchased a Cosmo, and some a paperback novel. It was a Stephen King one, called Song of Susannah.

. . . So sue me? Any book with a title like that MUST be brilliant.

Hehehe.

As I went to pay, I accidentally dropped my magazine on the floor. Before I could pick it up, this Goth totally bent down, and got it for me.

'Here,' he said, with a kind of half smile.

'Thanks,' I replied.

He stood behind me as I payed, and then got his own stuff; Playboy - which he made a feeble effort to hide - and a huge bag of salt and vinegar chips.

Then he turned back, and was all, 'Well, you look relatively normal. Why are you here?'

I rolled my eyes. 'My teacher hates me,' I said grimly. 'I'm Suze.'

He nodded. 'Jason.'

'You Goth or something?' I asked.

'Yeah,' he said.

'Cool,' I replied.

He kind of walked with me to outside again. There was a smell of fresh air, and forest. It was kind of overwhelming. I had no idea where we were, but whatever.

'Okay,' I said, 'Whatever. See you on camp. And don't, you know, give yourself an orgasm from your mag.'

He laughed. 'Spoil my every plan, why don't you.'

Hmmm. You think it's funny, don't you. Eww . . .

I looked over at Paul on the bus, briefly.

The Goth guy - Jason - saw. 'You two were sitting close on the bus,' he observed. 'Are you g - '

'No,' I said in quick disgust. 'God, no. He's just . . . I know him, that's all.'

'Friend?'

'No.'

He looked a little confused. 'Right,' he said. 'Well, I'm going to go ogle the sexy legs of Paris Hilton, before she gets confiscated. Later.'

I smiled, and he left. Again, I looked over at Paul. Why hadn't he gotten off?

You know, this was like the epitome of suck ASS-edness.

And then to top the ice cream sundae off with a cherry, I see Suze come out of the convenience store with some Gothic type kid. They looked pretty friendly too.

God. What is that girl's problem? Who the HELL does she want me to be so she'd like me? What do I have to DO to get her to understand that there's something between us?

It's something more powerful than lust, I know it. It's...I don't know how to even explain it, but it's there.

Did she want me to go Goth and get an eyebrow ring like Porno mag over there? I mean, I was thinking about a tongue ring, but nothing serious, until now maybe.

And what's up with THAT? Even I have the smarts to know you don't buy a porno mag right in FRONT of the girl you're hoping to screw. It's the polite thing to do.

I mean, I hardly even look at porn. There's enough action to be had for me. It comes easily.

Ugh, now I'm over generalizing this. Maybe they were just chatting. God, I HATE how she does this to me. Make it so I can't even act sanely, I can't THINK sanely. It's frustrating.

I slouched down in my seat, pulled my shades down, and closed my eyes. If I ever saw civilized humanity again, I would be a lucky man.

- 8 -

I was suddenly wrenched awake when the bus pulled to a sudden halt. It appeared that we had arrived at Camp Happy Face right on schedule.

I looked out of the bus window and at the camp. It surprisingly looked perfectly normal. Wow. And here I was picturing something straight out of the movie Matilda.

Shut up, I was eight.

And STILL getting more than any of you reading this.

I sat up rubbing my head from where it jammed into the window from the stop. Miffy began to speak.

'Alright, miscreants,' she began, 'you all will be getting off of this bus in a single file, orderly fashion. You'll walk past the luggage compartment on the bus, pick up your things, receive your cabin assignments, and then in a half an hour, you'll report to the main hall where you usually eat.

'Is that understood?' she asked. Everyone nodded in agreement whether they understood or not.

I shoved all my things into my backpack, and heaved it up and onto my shoulder. Suze got up, and I followed suit right behind her.

We all know assasins do it from behind.

As we walked down the aisle of the bus, I couldn't imagine how I didn't recognize Suze right away.

I mean that ass was like God's direct gift to me.

On my way out, Miffy grabbed a hold of my arm and said, 'Slater, what is this?'

And by 'this' she meant my too small shirt. Only, I don't think it was really offensive for her.

She was checking me OUT!

THAT'S FUCKING MESSED UP!

'Uh, yeah,' I said quickly, trying to get out of her grasp the fastest humanly possible, 'apparently, they sent me the wrong size.'

She eyed me over one more time, SHIT, and said, 'After you unpack, head over to the admissions building and ask for a bigger sized shirt. Wouldn't want you to be walking around like that.'

Wouldn't want you to be TOUCHING or EYE RAPING me.

'Uh, right. Will do,' I replied and then motored out of that bus faster than I have ever done anything in my entire life.

FUCK.

That was just wrong.

I was listening in on Miffy's and Paul's very intimate code. Ha. He was SO hitting on her. Hahaha. You know, it would have been so much easier if he had have just changed back into his other shirt.

He looked like a hoochie mama.

And that's saying something.

I turned around and gave him something that was halfway between a simper and a glare. A serves-you-right kinda thing, you know?

Honestly. All assholes should get punished.

. . . Um . . . that sounds . . . kinda kinky.

Ignore that.

With a toss of my hair, I went to grab my stupid camp bag from the pile that the bus driver had thrown unceremoniously on the dusty road. Since I'm pretty strong, it wasn't that hard from me.

This guy was having trouble with his.

'Here,' I smiled, 'Let me - '

'I SLEPT WITH YOUR MOTHER!' he screeched at me.

Alarmed, I fell back a few steps. 'Uh . . . fine . . . get the bag yourself.'

I heard laughing behind me. This girl with long sleeves was smirking at me.

Okay. I know a bitch when I see one.

I mean, even I don't wear skirts that short.

She had a face like a rat crossed with a teenage mutant ninja turtle. Who the HELL wears a miniskirt on a CAMP? God, think they're HARDCORE or something?

I didn't smile. The really really really really large girl - I mean . . . fine, to be politically correct, the horizontally enhanced female, stood behind her, and laughed. Then - I am so serious - she just came over there, grabbed my bag and threw it on the floor.

I stared. 'Whoa. That put me in my place. Gosh, I feel really intimidated now.'

'We don't like little whores on our CAMP,' she spat at at me.

. . . Tourettes much?

'Good thing I'm not one,' I said. This all coming from someone who looks like a forty year old fat man.

I mean, they weren't even BREASTS. They were MAN-BOOBS. There's a DIFFERENCE. I'd know. (Dopey.)

With I smile I picked up my bag again. 'Stay out of my way, El Grande, or this bag is going where the sun don't shine - '

OW.

She just PUSHED me over someone ELSE'S bag.

I landed full force with my OWN bag on top of me.

'What is your PROBLEM?' I squealed at her in fury.

She - along with rat-face - glared.

Oh yeah. I forget. This is a camp for psychopaths. They know not what is right.

THANKS AGAIN FOR SENDING ME HERE, SISTER ERNESTINE. SEN-FUCKING-SATIONAL.

I managed to find my duffle, the administration building, and my cabin .

What I didn't manage to find was Suze again. We were split up, and there was no way in HELL I was trekking back to that bus. God, Miffy'd probably ass rape me or something equally gross.

Yeah well. Suze was a big girl. She could handle herself. She wasn't just your ordinary hot chick. And I'm not talking about Shifting. There's something there that just makes me want to strip her and myself naked and bang her all night long.

Maybe it's the fact that she's female.

Seriously though, that's not it. Despite what is thought about me, there's MORE to me than sex and inappropriate innuendoes.

There's just something about her.

In my new, more nicely fitted, Camp Happy Face shirt, I walked down the path that would lead me to my cabin. From just my short time there, I realized that the administration had split the camp in half with the girls' cabins on one side of the lake, and the guys' cabins on the other side. The main hall was right in the between both residence areas along with the administration building and all the other gay activities they would have us do.

Well, except tennis. That's not so gay.

663, 664, 665,--

666. My cabin number.

That's almost as bad as racial discrimination.

I'm not the devil, just a deviant sociopath.

I heaved my duffle bag over my only free shoulder, and pulled open the rickety screen door. It creaked pretty badly like doors tend to do in all those Freddy and Jason movies.

Apparently, I was the first person to arrive because nobody else was there. The cabin wasn't THAT bad. There were two bunks on opposite sides of the cabin and then directly in front of me, there was a small table with two chairs around it.

Somebody didn't pass elementary math.

I shoved my things on the bottom bunk to my left and began unpacking my backpack setting some of the important things on my nightstand.

Those things being my flashlight, my recent Dan Brown novel, a picture of Suze and I when we went on our ONE date last summer, and my toiletries bag.

Speaking of, where the hell are the restroom facilities?

With another glare at Miss I-need-three-maybe-four-plane-seats-because-my-ass-is-just-that-BIG, as she walked away.

Okay. I thought that maybe this camp would be okay. I mean . . . you know, how bad can a bunch of 14-18 year olds be?

. . . Bad.

'Hey,' someone said. 'You okay?'

I winced, and looked up. This chick stood there.

. . . Whoa.

The first thing I noticed was the hot pink streaks in her hair that was basically the same colour as mine, only slightly darker. Her nails on the hand she was offering to me were long and painted black. There was also a leather wristband donning her wrist.

I took her hand and she pulled me up. God, she was almost as strong as I was. Her eyes were green like mine, only, they were more olive coloured than emerald. And then to top off her slightly attractive face, she had a silver nose stud on the right side of her nose. Her shoulder length hair became attached to her lips as a slight breeze blew past.

I also noticed that her hands were large. Like, they were almost as big as Jesse's only, but they were still feminine.

God, way to ALMOST show me up in the looks department!

Cough.

I'm fine,' I said quickly. 'Uh, thanks. I mean, I didn't need your - ' Suze? Just thank you, you freak. 'Yeah, thanks.'

She smiled kind of quickly. 'Emily,' she said, and again, stuck out her hand. I kinda shook it. Whoa, she had a very firm grip.

. . . Scary.

'You gonna tell your name, or are you going for the whole anonymous mystery?' she grinned.

'I'm Fred,' I said. 'No . . . it's Suze.'

She nodded fairly. 'You want help with your b - '

'I got it,' I said. 'I'm stronger than I look.'

Looking skeptical, Emily shrugged. 'You tell yourself that.'

I yanked my back up, and walked on ahead strongly.

'Okay, okay, I believe you,' she called after me. 'Don't hurt yourself, ha.'

'I gotta dump this in my cabin,' I said. 'I - uhhh . . . how do we know what one we're in?'

'You Suze . . . Simon?' she frowned.

I nodded.

Emily grinned. She had a nice smile. It was a happy one. 'You're with me, honey.'

I laughed a little uncomfortably. Uh . . . if she was . . . I mean, I didn't swing that way -

It was only after I completely unpacked my bags that three other guys came sauntering in.

They all nodded in recognition of me, not exactly saying anything else. I nodded and sort of grunted in return. It was just the way guys did things. It was no weirder than the fact that girls do EVERYTHING together. Exactly why DO you all travel in groups to go to the bathroom? Any idea how HARD it is to ask a girl out when there's eighty other estrogen filled lethal weapons by her?

The first two guys looked pretty normal, except for the one guy with the lip, tongue, eyebrow ring, and the dyed black hair. The other guy was blonde haired and looked pretty normal. Maybe I wasn't the only one sent to this camp on wrongful determination.

Then the third guy entered. And who do you think it was? Oh, no one except for the Goth that followed Suze out of the convenience store.

I swear to God, he says ONE derogatory or sexual thing about Suze, I will beat the shit out of him; no questions asked.

Apparently, recognition donned on his part too, because he ignored me as he set his things on the top of the opposite bunk set.

Absently rolling on my back and staring at the bottom of the bunk above me, I asked to know one in particular, 'So, what sends you all here to Camp Happy Face?'

The kid with the all the facial piercings piped up and said in a kind of groggy, deep voice, 'My gym teacher back in Houston hated me. Probably paranoia on one hand, but she definitely didn't like me, probably my statement and all.'

Your statement being, 'I'm a punk, so therefore, I don't have to bathe?'

'Anyway,' he continued, 'one day, I got pissed, and mooned the bitch. They said I had 'authority issues'.'

'Shipped me out here to Seattle, and that's where I am,' he finished. He gestured towards the Gothic kid and asked, 'Why're you here? Authority issues? Color issues?'

Goth boy replied with, 'Well, uh, you know how they are in northeast. Strict about ev –'

'COCK.'

I, as well as everyone else, turned in the blonde haired guy's direction. Bruce, apparently had uttered the obscenity.

I blinked. 'Let me guess why they sent you here,' I gandered, 'Tourette's, right?'

He nodded sheepishly, apologized, and continued unpacking.

'Nah, it's cool,' the Goth kid said

shaking it off.

Oh, so now the kid is understanding. I could be understanding too. Hell, I AM understanding. I am VERY understanding of the fact that I want Suze and she wants me. You know what HER problem is? Yeah, the fact that she's NOT understandable.

'Anyway,' Goth boy continued, 'yeah, pretty much. The whole Goth thing always puts you on the wrong side of the track, you know? Ununderstanding adults and hurtful kids. So yeah, teacher had a problem with the way I was dressed. Asked me to go to the office. I refused saying it was my given right to dress the way I was. She said it was her given right to give me a detention. I mouthed her off,

lit my desk on fire. You know, the usual.'

Ring guy snorted and laughed. Apparently, this gesture of civilized people came close to home for him.

Goth continued, 'So, that's basically the end of story. My parents and teachers agreed CHF was the best for me, so that's how I go from New Hampshire to Washington. Quite a story, huh?'

We all nodded in an agreement.

Goth nodded in Bruce's direction.

'What about you? You know, besides the obvious. How'd you end up here.'

Bruce seemed to think about it for awhile. He had this tick to him that would make him suddenly jerk around. Poor bastard.

'Well, uh, I'm from Colorado, and obviously, have Tourette's. Pretty much, SHIT, the same scenario as you two--' he pointed in their directions, ticking again, '--But, uh, at first, my Tourette's wasn't bad. I'd, ASS COCK, pretty much just say my name, Bruce over again.

'They'd get annoyed, sure, but there was nothing they could do about it. But then, as I got older, things began to get relatively, MOTHER FU – sorry, relatively worse, with me shouting obscenities. So one day, in school, the teacher wrote me up for saying crude things, and unjustly, ASS SEX, I was sentenced to here. Happy story, huh?'

Poor, poor, bastard.

Bruce gestured towards me,

'What about you, FUCK? Sorry.'

'Me?' I asked, pointing at myself.

He nodded and continued putting his things away.

'Oh,' I commented nonchalantly, 'that. Uh, I told off a nun.'

Bruce and the kid with the piercings looked at me with a renewed interest. Goth Guy said, 'Well, gee, THAT was low. She's a servant of God.'

Uh, no one asked YOUR opinion on the matter.

'Really?' Pierced, who, according to the name scribbled on his journal of songs, was Trent.

'Yeah,' I said, smirking arrogantly, and placing my hands beneath my head.

'What'd you say?' Trent asked again.

'Couldn't have been any worse than what I spewed a couple minutes ago,' Bruce said.

I laughed a little, 'Oh, actually it can. And it did.'

Wow, I'd never told anyone about this. Well, except

the novice and the rest of the Junpiero Serra Mission Academy.

'I said to her, "Why don't you go fuck off and go fuck your mom, and then see if God will save your sorry ass then. I'm sure he'll give you extra points if you fuck her in the ass," and then I basically walked off campus and drove home.'

Bruce looked at me in awe. 'To a NUN?'

Trent said, 'Whoa, dude, you're my hero. That was wicked awesome. Talking smack like that.'

I shifted uncomfortably. It was one of those things I had done that I wasn't exactly proud of.

Trent held his hand out, and said ,'Put 'er there. I'm Trent Lane by the way.'

I grasped his hand and shook it. 'Paul Slater.'

'ASSHOLE Ryans,' Bruce stuck his hand out too. 'I mean, Bruce.'

I shook his hand too. 'Nice.'

To be polite, I stuck my hand out for Goth guy too.

'Paul,' I said. 'I saw you coming out of the rest stop with my girl.'

Goth guy looked skeptical, but then took my hand and said, 'Jason. Jason Martnik. And, uh, she said you two weren't going out.'

'Aw, yes,' I said reclaiming my face towards the bed above me position, 'she gets like that, you know? Can't keep her head straight after mind blowing sex.'

And with that, I grabbed my backpack and headed out for the main hall.

Emily told me we were in cabin 273, on this side of the lake. I snorted, and told her that that was my locker number.

Yeah, Suze, wow. Sooooooo interesting.

We dumped our stuff in there. I asked if anyone else was assigned here, and she was all, 'No.'

That was cool.

'Just you and me, Suzie,' she said creepily.

I gave her another weird look.

'Um,' I said, 'Yeah.'

After we settled stuff in - she'd bought a range of posters featuring a band called Reliant K, and also had one with . . . um . . . Harrison Ford on it - cough - I put my miniature of Jesse on the bedside table.

'Who's that?' she asked. 'Granddad?'

With a smile, I said, ' . . . Yeah.'

Oh, boy.

'Who was that guy you were with on the bus?' she said all of a sudden. 'He was pretty cute.'

THANK YOU. A SIGN OF HETEROSEXUALITY.

I mock shuddered. 'Uh, he's not really.'

She raised her eyebrows. 'SOMEONE'S blind today. Who is he?'

'Just an asshole,' I said.

'Ha. What he do?' she smirked. 'Screw you, then run?'

I gave her a startled look, 'No – he – no way, we're just – he's – EWW,' I blushed.

She sniggered. 'Okay. Sure.'

'Why are you here?' I asked her.

She smiled dreamily. 'I streaked in protest once,' she said. 'Good times . . . '

STREAKED?

Eww.

'In protest of what?' I blinked.

'Pep rallies,' she replied bitterly. 'You realize that all the gay-assed cheerleaders are always – '

'Okay,' I cut short what sounded like it would be a long rant.

'You?'

'Me what?'

'What are YOU here for? I mean, you seem relatively normal.'

'Oh,' I said. 'I have issues.'

'Don't we all,' she sat back on her bed, and smirked. She had this cool smirk. It was like, she knew everything that was going on or something. 'What are these issues, specifically?'

I shrugged. 'Punching and kicking thin air, occasionally.'

With a lazy laugh, she looked over at me. 'Very issue-ish,' she commented. 'But still not as good as everyone in public seeing your tits.'

That's one way of putting it . . .

'Haha,' I said. 'Don't we have to go to some hall?'

She got off the bed. 'Oh yeah,' she muttered. 'I forgot. Miffy goes over the stupid rules . . . you know, no razors, no drugs, no booze, no sex . . . blah, and all the other camp coordinators come in and nick all our contraband. So if you got anything, take it out now. I always do.' At this, she snuck a small dark plastic bottle in the deep pockets of her baggy jeans.

I looked at her skeptically. 'Vodka?'

'Yeah, so?' she asked in defense. 'Miffy can be a real bitch sometimes.'

. . . Okaaaaaaay.