Chapter five won't take long.

Love Lolly and Emily.

- 8 -

'You're in here for a half an hour, Mr. Slater. Next time you commit an offense, it'll be longer.'

And with that, Miffy slammed the door of the isolation room, leaving me to wallow in impenetrable darkness.

Well, there was ONE window providing enough light so I could see my way around the room. It also appeared to be sound proof.

I looked down at my wrist, expecting to check the time, but forgot that I wasn't wearing my watch. Great, Slater. You're a real survivalist.

So there I sat on a bench they had so graciously provided, with my eyes closed and trying to pass the time quickly.

I must have been there for about two minutes when the sound of dripping water penetrated my ears. It wasn't running water. It was that kind of drip where between each drop there was the exact same time between them.

They weren't trying to teach me my lesson in here; they were trying to kill me. And not even in an American way. They were using the Chinese torture device. Sure, the water wasn't dripping on my forehead, but it may as well have been.

Drip . . . drip . . . drip . . . drip.

Trying to ignore the sound, I turned away from its direction. But that didn't do anything. I placed my hands over my ears, and scrunched my eyes shut, but that didn't work either.

Well, there was only one thing a guy could do in a situation such as this to keep his sanity.

Yep, you guessed it. Or maybe you didn't because a lot of you probably don't know I'm extremely talented in this area.

The air guitar.

I decided to practice something I hadn't worked on in awhile, just to, you know, hone my skills correctly.

So whipping out the Quiet Riot songs from the back of my head, I began playing my claim to fame "Cum On Feel The Noise." Not before setting the mood for concert mode. Because, um, when you're in isolation away from civilization, you just have to have a concert.

Well, it, uh, made sense to me before I started.

'Miffy is SUCH a cun - '

'CUNning person,' Jason broke Emily off hastily. 'Cunning.'

Emily stiffened. 'I mean, Slater TOTALLY saved your ass, Suze. And she was all - '

I'm sorry to say, but I agreed. I mean, there was no denying that I hated Paul. But there was also no denying that I could have very well been crushed, and he prevented that.

By knocking me over, landing on top of me and copping a feel . . . but prevention all the same.

So I was also kind of annoyed at Miffy's anal-retentiveness.

The three of us were wandering back to our respective cabins, past the lake. We had about forty minutes till dinner was on.

'My feet are sore. Wanna go soak?' Emily asked Jason. He nodded, and the pair of them started walking to the lake edge.

I ran after them a little. I could help but feel like I was interrupting something between the two of them, all the time. It was kind of uncomfortable. Like I didn't belong, because I hadn't been there the previous camp or something, and I couldn't relate to either of them.

I dunno . . . it was just awkward.

'So,' Emily gestured towards me, as she began removing her shoes and socks. She sat on the jetty, and dangled her feet over. 'Tell us about yourself, Suze. As much as we dig the mysterious red head thing, we wanna know.'

'We do?' Jason asked.

'We do,' Emily said.

I shrugged. 'Nothing to tell, really. I mean . . . I don't really think I should be here as such. I'm . . . aggressive, I guess, but it's not REALLY an issue. Well, maybe to the person that I'm punching at the time, but that's about it.'

Jason laughed. 'Note to self: Don't piss Suze off.'

I shrugged, as I too joined Emily in the foot-dangling.

'I have three step-brothers,' I said boredly. 'I call the names from the Seven Dwarves. And Dopey calls me Queen of the Night People, so we're even. Whether that's because he thinks I'm in a gang like Sleepy does, or because he thinks I'm a street walker, I'm still trying to figure out.'

'I was in a gang once,' Jason said. 'It was horrible.'

Emily raised her eyebrows. 'Tell?'

'Well, we liked to call ourselves a gang,' Jason muttered, sniggering. 'Trying to dress up "The Chess Club" is not a crime, after all.'

'So no gangbanging,' Emily said sadly.

'Nup.'

Em turned to me, her pink streak catching in the fading sun. 'So, Suze. You smoke?'

I wrinkled my nose. 'I did once...hated it.'

'Smoking's for losers,' Jason agreed.

'Yes,' Emily said. 'Like Kristy Duncan. You met her before. She was the gay-assed bitch who hung around with Fatty. Her name's Matilda, but no one calls her that.'

'Is anything not gay-assed?' I asked Emily. 'I mean . . . is everything really homosexually inclined to have anal sex with each other?'

Em and Jason looked at each other, and then cracked up.

'Cute, Simon,' Emily clapped me on the back, almost knocking me into the water. 'Very cute.'

'Hello, Seattle! Are you ready to ROCK!' I shouted, my air guitar in hand.

Before hand, I had prepared myself in the form of ripping my sleeves off my shirt (I only had a billion other ones anyway), tying them together, and then wrapping them around my head, like a typical 80's rocker would look like.

That, or your typical, sad, sad, eighteen year old.

Making loud applause noises, I raised my air guitar above my head and pumped it into the air a couple times.

'Seattle,' I said, bringing my air guitar down once again, 'this one is for you.'

And then, I began to strum my air guitar, and sing "Cum on Feel the Noize."

Strumming ecstatically, I began singing, 'Come on feel the noize/Girls ROCK your boys/We'll get wild, wild, wild/Wild, wild,wild!'

Adding some guitar licks I created myself, I continued with the first verse, 'So you think I've got an evil mind, I'll tell you honey/I don't know why/I don't know why.'

Jumping down from the bench, I began furiously playing the air guitar on my knees with my back leaned back. I then continued with the song, 'So you think my singing's out of time, it makes me money/I don't know why/I don't know why anymore/ Oh no.'

'Come on, Seattle, sing with me!' I shouted again, this time, I began clapping my hands above my head, singing loudly, 'Come on feel the noise/Girls ROCK your boys/We'll get wild, wild wild/Wild, wild, wi—'

'Mr. Slater?'

Immediately, I turned toward the door, and ripped my sleeves off my head. Um, busted. Busted SO badly.

'Uh, yeah?' I tried to say in a calm manner.

'Slater, what the HELL do you think you're doing?' Miffy asked, one masculine eyebrow raised. On normal people, that would mean both. But Miffy only had one that connected across her forehead.

I ran my hand through my hair, trying to flatten it from where it stuck up due to my shirt sleeves. 'Um, just, uh, sitting here, you know. Waiting for my time to be up.'

She looked at me in such a way that said she had DEFINITELY seen me rock out with my cock out. I didn't even know I had that in me.

'Well, your time's done,' Miffy said to me. 'Head on over to the mess hall if you DON'T want to spend more time in here.'

Scrambling to my feet as quickly as possible, I said, saluting her, 'Yes, sir—I MEAN, ma'am.'

And I got the HELL out of there.

'ALL RIGHT, CAMP SCUM, DINNER,' Miffy's voice echoed near and far, across the land. Or, um, you know, the camp site.

Jason, Em and I looked over at her boredly.

'Definitely a man,' Jason concluded.

We all stood up, put our shoes back on, and went back over to the hall. Wow, time had gone really quick. Maybe these twelve weeks WOULD be bearable...?

As this one chick got to the door, however, she was wearing a mini-skirt beneath her top, instead of her uniform shorts.

One would think that Miffy is a reasonable enough human being to yell at her, and send her back to her dormitory to change. Well . . . if you thought that, you lead a sheltered life.

Like I did, until that moment.

Oh, Miffy yelled at her.

'WHAT IS THAT, BENNETT?' she demanded, her voice a dull roar of a large, aggressive, ugly animal.

'Um,' the girl, whose last name was obviously Bennett, raised her eyebrows as coolly as she could, 'Skirt. Shorts didn't fit me, Miffy.'

'I think you KNOW the rules WELL ENOUGH, seeing as I've been seeing your ass since EIGHTH GRADE,' Miffy shouted, 'that you GO TO THE UNIFORM BAY TO GET THE RIGHT STUFF!'

And with that, she yanked Bennett's skirt right down. The poor girl screamed loudly, pulling her shirt over her underwear in horror. And then she scampered away, terrified.

I was aghast.

'Pay up,' Jason said.

'What?' I was still stunned.

'Damn,' Emily scowled, and shelled out twenty bucks to Jason.

'I bet that she would do that on the first day,' Jason explained. 'Emily said second.'

'I thought with all the calls the camp received, she'd . . . wait,' Emily said, bummed out.'

'You think phone calls will stop MIFFY?' Jason laughed. 'How wrong you are, my little friend.'

As I ran to the main hall for the evening meal (if you can even consider what they serve here a 'meal'), I reflected on my time back in isolation. Sure, I didn't exactly learn anything, but under the circumstances, it could have been worse. I wasn't damaged physically, and I hadn't gone insane.

Well, not that insane anyway.

And, sure, I could never listen to Quiet Riot in the same way EVER again, and my ego will never be able to repair itself ever again. But all things considered, it wasn't too bad.

Which was a good thing. Because at my stay here at Camp Happy Face, I planned on letting my rebellious streak fly free.

Especially now that we knew it was haunted.

I took a seat at my designated spot, and ran a hand through my hair.

Just as I entered, some big to do occurred. I could hear Miffy shouting from all the way in here.

My condolences to whomever was receiving the lecture . . . poor bastard.

Back in the hall, I saw that the walls along the far side was COVERED with trays and trays of steaming camp food.

'Don't touch the lasagna,' Jason hissed at me. 'We think it's drugged. Emily reckons they chuck kids in it. Because that is NOT minced meat.'

'And steer clear of the corn,' Emily said. 'They use human manure to grow it. I'm sorry, but I'd rather eat something that hasn't come into contact with my own shit.'

I giggled a little.

Jason, Em and I sat at one of the back tables. I felt something against my knee. I turned around, and I saw Paul sitting there, looking a little tired.

His shirt was ripped.

'Oh my GOD,' I breathed, horrified, 'What did Miffy DO to you?'

'Huh?' I asked, turning towards the human voice that dared speak to me.

It was Suze. And apparently she wanted to know what happened to my shirt.

I kept hearing that "Honesty is the best policy" mantra in my head, but somehow I seriously doubted that Suze would find me any more stable if she knew I had just stepped off tour a half-hour ago.

'Oh, um, that,' I remarked, once again running a hand through my hair. 'Miffy didn't touch me – ' Yeah, but she WANTED TO – 'I've been in isolation for the last half-hour, remember? I was in isolation because, oh, why was it? Oh, yeah. That's right. I saved YOUR ass, so they put me in isolation. Now I remember.'

I rolled my eyes. 'You didn't HAVE to save me. I could have done it myself.'

I turned back to Emily, but then felt bad for sounding ungrateful and bitchy.

'Thanks,' I threw at him stiffly.

I smiled in her general direction. 'That's two you owe me, Simon,' I mused, getting up to grab something from the food line. They had to at least have Mountain Dew or something of that nature. I'll take narcotics at this point.

'Hang on - what?' I demanded, going after him. 'Two? Two what's? And what for?'

'Well,' I explained, walking up to the salad/fruit bar. There had to at least be something edible there. Plus, I was actually famished due to my concert that we won't speak of ever AGAIN, 'I saved you from that beam, which is one. And I saved you from having to sit with some psycho on the bus. That's two.'

'That does NOT c - ' I began furiously, but went off on a tangent, 'Well, that makes up for the time when you left me stranded in hell. So we're completely even.'

However, as we were standing in line, he leaned over me, like, VERY closely. I sucked in a sharp breath, going dead quiet. He smirked a little, stayed there for longer than necessary, before drawing back up, an apple in his hand.

I blinked, wide-eyed.

'Two, Simon,' I restated, in case she forgot as she tends to do on more than a couple occasions. I tossed the apple into the air, caught it, and then added, 'And as far as what you're doing to make up for it goes . . . you're a creative girl. Use your imagination.'

I glared at him, grabbed his apple, very maturely threw it on the floor, and cut through the line up to the poultry and meat section.

'I guess we could chuck apples at the ground,' I called after her. 'But come on, Suzie. I know you better than that. Even you could come up with an activity way more fun and a hell of a lot more . . . arousing.'

I whipped my head around at him, shot him a cutting glare, and snuck into the line. However, it appeared that I'd pushed in front of Matilda, that really big girl whom Emily and Jason warned me away from.

'What the hell do you think you're doing?' she demanded, sounding like the lovechild of Miffy and one of those people off of turned around. 'Oh, sorry,' I said.

Yeah, I was sorry all right. Especially when she shoved me ten feet so I skidded across the floor.

'NO ONE cuts in front of me,' she spat at me.

I looked over, and saw that Paul was smirking at me. As well as a bunch of the cutter girls. Humiliated and sore, I stood up grumpily and went to the back of the line. However, Paul's hand shot out as I passed him. He pulled me in front of him again.

'That's three,' I whispered in her ear. 'Now if you would kindly keep walking. You're holding up the rest of us. Oh, and pass me one of those grape clusters.'

I can't win.

Obligingly, I passed him some grumpily.

'You suck,' I informed him.

I grinned, and brushed her arm as I reached across it to grab a paper plate for all this fruit I was accumulating.

I laughed and muttered, 'Not so much 'suck' as I do 'blow'--'

I turned around furiously, and grabbed the front of his shirt. 'Look,' I hissed under my breath, 'I am already aware that my visit to Camp Happy Face is not going to be very enjoyable. But I swear, if you do ONE thing to make this time spent here even less pleasant, you will be sorry. I've kicked more ass in my time than you can imagine. So STOP - ' SEXUALLY HARASSING ME - 'PISSING ME OFF.'

Irately, I let go of his shirt. One of his grapes fell to the floor.

My mouth contorted into another grin. She was quite the charmer. If only she knew how much she effected me.

I wrapped my hand on the extended part of her face right under her chin. Smiling once more, I pulled her face towards mine, and gave her a quick, light kiss on her mouth. Even the short amount of contact had my lips feeling as if they touched an electrical wire.

I jolted, stunned.

'Sweetheart,' I said quietly, not wanting to attract unwanted attention in the form of Miffy, 'am I anything other than pleasant?'

'A jackass,' I informed him, after my lips had stopped tingling.

. . . AFTER we'd gotten dinner, I went back and sat down, sitting in between Emily and Jason, not particularly wanting to be stuck next to Paul for a whole meal, where he might violate my thighs again or something.

Digging into spaghetti on toast, and some baked potatoes and roasted veggies - no corn - I shot a look to the side and saw that Paul was talking to Emily under his breath, and she was grinning.

A white hot pang of something shot through me, but I ignored it fiercely, shoveling pasta into my mouth with determination.

'So, streaking then?' I asked Emily with an amused smirk. The people you meet at this camp are amazing. And she was even here from the east coast.

'Yeah,' Emily said loudly. I noticed she never talked in a six-inch voice. That or, you know, she was physically unable to do so. I was betting on the earlier. 'But I have ONLY done it in the form of protesting. That's it,' she informed me.

'I don't go flinging around my goods to anyone. They have to serve a purpose, you know? Besides, it is all to honor Will Ferrell in "Old School".'

I laughed, and, guilty, swept a quick glance over her 'goods'. Not too bad, considering half the time they were flying freely and not in a bra or anything.

Jason gave me a sideways look. I gave him one. We both caught eye-contact, before sighing.

'What?' we said at the same time.

I blinked, and he grinned. 'You go first,' I said.

He looked at his plate. 'Why are you here?' he asked. 'You don't seem . . . I mean, at all - you said you have issues, but that's all you've told us. Everyone has issues. Why were you really sent here, Suze?'

I shifted guiltily. What was I SUPPOSED to say?

I SEE DEAD PEOPLE. THEY'RE EVERYWHERE. THEY WALK AROUND, LIKE REGULAR PEOPLE. THEY DON'T EVEN KNOW THEY'RE DEAD.

. . . Um, no. I mean, I know this was a crazy camp, but I didn't want him to think I was INSANE.

I bullshitted a little. 'I just . . . vandalise,' I explained. 'Stuff around the school, what not.'

Which isn't strictly true.

GHOSTS do that, when I get pushed into lockers, shoved out of windows, what not. THEY are the ones that crash the breezeway and decapitate founders of our school. THEY flood the courtyard when I, a little FORCEFULLY, try to shove them into their afterlife. THAT rip up tiles on the roof of the rectory when I sneak out to see Jesse and end up getting caught by some ghost who wants me to HELP them, and NOT suck face with my dead boyfriend.

It just sucks when, sometimes, I actually get CAUGHT for the stuff that my ghostly buddies do. Caught, and blamed.

Jason nodded a little. 'And seriously,' he continued, 'What is UP with him?'

He nodded discreetly at Paul.

'I've only ever gone streaking once,' I admitted to her. This information seemed to pique her interest.

'Really?'

'Yeah,' I said. 'It was a couple years ago at a house party, and we, meaning my friends and I, were pretty wasted. One of them bet I wouldn't ring the hot neighbor's doorbell and ask them if they had any extra towels. But I did. And then I ended up enjoying myself so much, that I was running one hundred meter dashes up and down the road.'

Emily started guffawing, and I laughed as well, but I kind of choked on my laughter when I heard the final words of what Suze had been talking about.

I shrugged. 'He just wants what he can't have,' I explained. Raising my voice a little, I said, 'He's a jerk-off, a freak, a sicko, someone who tried to kill his own brother, and he smells bad.'

Okay . . . that might have been a little heavy. I looked around, and saw that Paul's face had gone a little white.

Oops.

He stared at me blankly, for a second.

I could forgive her about saying I smelled bad. Suze says EVERYONE smells bad. And I could forgive her for calling me a jerk-off because let's face it, I like jacking off. But I could NOT forgive her for calling me a freak, a sicko, and a brother murderer. I drew the line there.

Emily, who'd been laughing before, stopped, and looked at Paul in shock. 'You what?' she asked in slight disgust. 'Dude, we all have issues, but - that's pretty low.'

Paul was still staring at me coldly.

I was starting to feel MAJORLY uncomfortable.

'Yeah, that is low,' I said, still glaring coldly at Suze. 'That's really low.'

Having gotten rid of the rest of my plate earlier, I only had my apple left. I picked it up, and said, 'It was a pleasure. Really. I'm gonna go retire. I'll see you all tomorrow. Or whenever.'

Because really. You can only be accused of murdering your brother so many times before you get fed up with it.

I watched as he stood up, no longer looking at me. People were filtering out already. The ones who didn't want dessert, and all. I watched him walk out of the hall, the apple still in his hand.

He left.

I looked down.

Emily and Jason were both staring at me.

'You're not serious,' Emily said to me.

Jason crossed his arms, leaving his hamburger abandoned.

I shuffled a little. 'Okay,' I sighed, 'That was a LITTLE bit of an exaggeration. Basically, me and Paul's little brother Jack were . . . in danger. And Paul just left us like that.'

Emily stared. 'But he didn't try to . . . KILL his bro, right?'

'Not directly,' I admitted. 'But I'm still angry at him for what he did.'

Jason looked stonily at me. 'Danger?' His eyes twinkled in curiosity.

I got a very strange feeling, suddenly. Like, he -

Hell no.

'Um,' I said, 'Yeah.'

I didn't want to go into specifics.

'I didn't try to kill my own brother!' I muttered angrily to myself as I exited the mess hall, and heard the muffled roar of the crowd inside.

In my anger, I kicked what I thought was a dirt clod, but turned out to be a rock.

I swore and continued my inaudible - well, they were louder as I got angrier at the situation - rant.

'I would never waste my energy on something so pathetic as Jack. The kid is a wimpy-ass mediator who has NOTHING going for him in the future. The only reason I left him in the Shadowland was because he needed hands on practice for taking care of himself. Plus, it really wouldn't have made a difference if he lived or died. No one would have missed him.'

I sighed, and continued my stroll back to my cabin. This was going to be a long experience here at CHF.