Camp Redwood

The summer sun shines brightly, birds are chirping away lightly, it’s muggy outside, and there are people all over the place. It’s a seemingly perfect morning, but I’m absolutely miserable. Aunt Tracy is fussing over my hair and face and I’m swatting her hand away, squinting at her behind my sunglasses.

“Cut it out!” I huff, but my protest goes ignored as she rubs her thumb against an invisible stain on my cheek.

“Now, you be good, y’hear?” I glare at her, and even though she probably can’t see it, her hand falls and she sighs, tucking some of my hair behind my ear. “Don’t give these good folks a hard time now.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Are you gonna be nice?”

“Are you gonna stick around all day?” I counter.

“I know, I know, you wanna get all settled in and such and meet up with your little friends and stuff.” She smiles kindly at me and I return it half heartedly, trying not to scowl.

“Aunt Tracy—”

“I’ll get outta your hair then, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” She kissed my forehead and I sighed, rolling my eyes. “Love you, baby girl.”

“Hm.”

She is quickly lost in the buzzing crowd. I like being in big crowds or just groups of people in general, makes me feel all invisible and like I can do whatever I want and no one will even notice. Dr. Poxleinter (the ‘therapist’ we all have to see at least twice a week during our stay here) says we’ll discuss it in therapy, but I doubt it. I can clam up pretty good when I want to.

I start to wander through the crowd, which is made up of your occasional drifter (like myself, for example) and of families saying goodbye to their kids. The exaggerated displays of affection are enough to make me feel sick, and I’m desperate to get to my cabin and hide out there for the rest of the day. Hopefully, the people I’m bunking with aren’t crazy, but I mean, we’re all crazy, so that’s kind of moot. Sighing, I look at my map and try to navigate my way though, trying not to bump into anybody.

I’m at a camp for addicts of all shapes and sizes.

I’ll be staying here for the whole summer, talking about my ‘feelings’ and other stupid things like that. I just want to get this whole thing over and done with and go home. And granted, ‘home’ is kind of generous, but what else can I call it? I kind of feel like taking a nap, so I’ll do that first and then think about how to get my aunt to come get me. I don’t have a problem, and I know I don’t, but no one else believes me.

They all think I’m crazy.

That nap sounds better and better, but I can’t really do that until I find my cabin, which is Cabin 8. Dr. Poxleitner’s sloppy hand writing circles it and she even drew a little smiley face next to it. She wrote, “YOU ARE HERE!” I guess she’s trying to make light of all of this, but she’s not the one who’s spending her summer stuck with a bunch of crazy teenagers. Okay, yeah, she is, but at least she has a nice air conditioned office far away from us.

I don’t really have a choice.

Eventually, I do stumble upon a Cabin 8, but this cabin has a blue star painted on it instead of a red one, and I mean, really, what’s the difference? Who cares? I throw my suitcase down and dig my hand into my messenger bag, leaning against it. Behind me is the cabin, in front of me are the woods, and I don’t know if I should run now or later.

I decide against it. Where would I go? We’re in the middle of nowhere. I don’t have a car or anything and it’s not like I can drive to begin with anyway. I snatch out half a cigarette, the first half of which was smoked in the bathroom of the bus that brought me here with my aunt. Realizing I have nothing to light it with, I sigh sullenly, frowning as I dig deeper in my bag. I had a lighter this morning, didn’t I? I take my sunglasses off, squinting as I keep searching.

“You okay there?”

I look up, curious, and oh, my god.

“Y-Yeah,” I stammer. “I just…um. I forgot to bring my lighter, I guess,” I explain lamely. He hops over the small porch and digs his hand into his pocket, standing next to me as he tosses a half used pack of matches my way.

We’re quiet for a few seconds as I inhale, and this lasts until I mumble a gentle, “Thanks,” and fold the matches into his hand and he says that it’s not a big deal at all and we just stand there like that for a few seconds, and you’d think it was awkward but it wasn’t, not really. His hands are as soft as his voice when he asks me my name. I reply, “Kalliope.” He smiles.

“Forrest,” he offers politely. In his own way, he’s pretty cute. His hair is brown and his eyes are hazel and his smile is crooked but friendly. He looks a little tired, but who isn’t, especially on a day like today? This place is literally in the middle of nowhere and I’m pretty sure no one here is actually from around these parts. Maybe he’s been travelling for a long time. The problem is that he looks really out of place, like he just doesn’t quite belong here. It’s a camp for “troubled teens,” and he looks like he hasn’t seen a bad day in his entire life. Why is he even here?

I don’t want to ask because it’ll be rude, so I don’t say anything and keep smoking my cigarette slowly. We keep holding the matches and it’s nice, quiet and sweet in a sort of odd way, and I can’t say I mind.

“Aren’t you warm?” he asks.

In all honestly, I’m three seconds short of suffocating to death and it is pretty hot out here the way it is, but I still shake my head and toss my cigarette into the bushes. Before he can ask me why I’m dressed like it’s winter in New York City when it’s actually the beginning of summer in Mississippi, I say that I have to get going and that I hope to see him around.

He gives me a small little smile and says, “I hope so too.”



About a half hour later, I’m still moseying along, lost, going back and forth between thoughts of that little piece of metal nestled in my delicates in the middle of my suitcase and thoughts of the boy with the matches. It’s probably why I end up bumping into someone else. He’s tall, a little taller than Forrest, even, and almost trips me. He starts to yell but when he catches sight of me, he chuckles and even smirks a little.

“Well, hello there, little lady,” he drawls and I roll my eyes, trying not to gag.

“Hi,” is my flat response. “Can I get through now, please?”

“Now, just hold it, tootsie roll. Where’s the fire, huh?” I look at him blankly. “Okay, okay, I’m cheesy, I know. Where ya goin’?”

“Cabin 8. I just wanna get settled—”

“I could show you,” he offers eagerly. Grumbling a sulky, “Fine,” I agree, and we’re on our way again. He’s chattering my ear off and just can’t manage to shut up and I swear I’m just about to slap him when he tells me we’re here. I passed it like three times, I realize dumbly. How didn’t I notice? I frown and the boy (Keegan, I’ve learned) coughs awkwardly and I say thank you.

“You busy later?”

“Um, yeah. Bye,” I mumble, walking past him and into the cabin, happy to finally be alone for once. I take a deep breath, leaning against the screen door with a small smile on my face. I glance around, and notice that there’s already a brown suitcase on one of the beds. I wonder who I’m sharing with and hope that whoever it is isn’t awful or weird or actually crazy. Then again, things like that tend to happen to me all the time, so I wouldn’t be surprised if it did happen. I decide to take the bed near the back door after checking the place out.

It’s not too bad. There are small little nightstands next to the beds, a small bathroom, and a small little porch that looks out into the forest. It’s cool, at least. I’ll probably end up spending most of my time here, seeing as everyone here seems so energetic and annoying and just—

A blonde girl bursts in, humming softly to herself as she roots through the brown suitcase on the bed on the other side of the room. I lean up on my elbows, frowning a little as I regard her.

“Hi?” I ask, clearing my throat.

“Hi.”

“I guess you’re my room mate or something?”

“Yeah!” she exclaims excitedly. “This is so great! Ohmigosh, ohmigosh, we’re gonna be such great friends and like have late night sleepovers and roast marshmallows and, oh my god—”

“Mmhm,” I say stiffly.

“Are you coming to group?” She’s cheery and bouncy and happy, smiling brightly. She’s blonde and pale, and has a pair of the biggest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. She seems really excited to be here. She’s quite bubbly, to put it simply.

“Group?”

“Yeah, dummy!” she says playfully. “Group, like, group therapy! It’s gonna be so—”

“I guess so. Do I have to?”

“Well, no, but I mean, it’d be like, cool, y’know, ’cause Dr. P says we should totally be there—”

“Right. Okay,” I say, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, grabbing some clothes from my suitcase. “Just give me a second, okay?” I head into the bathroom, mostly because I’m really self conscious and I don’t really feel all too comfortable with having people watch me undress. I don’t know. I’m just weird about it, I guess.

“’Kay!” she exclaims. “Do you wanna get something in the mess hall after this? They have really, really great jell-o and it’s like sugar-free or something but it’s still really, really sweet and stuff! I think you’ll like it.”

I walk out of the bathroom, balling up my clothes. She beams at me, holding her knees to her chest as she rests her head on them. “You look pretty. So are we gonna go or what?”

“Um…yeah. Sure. Jell-O sounds great,” I reply hesitantly, even though I hate Jell-O and I’ve never really liked it.

“Aren’t you hot?” she asks. I don’t answer her, walking towards the door and mumbling something about how we should get going if we don’t want to be late.



The room is quiet, humming softly with the sound of Dr. Poxleitner’s air conditioner. The sun streams in softly through the window, thin blinds casting shadows on the hardwood floor. The doctor has us sitting in a neat little circle, in a way so that nobody’s hiding and we can all see each other. I’m uncomfortable, and am doing everything short of running out of here. There are five of us, six if you count the blonde ‘counselor’ making eyes at Aubrey. She blushes and smiles at him, biting her lip a little. It’s kind of cute, sort of, and if it weren’t so damn hot I’d be figuring out how to get them together.

I mean, it’s probably against the rules here, but rules are meant to be broken.

There’s some other girl here too, gnawing at her thumbnail as she looks at us shiftily. Keegan’s here, unfortunately. When he first walked in, Dr. Poxleitner was still outside waiting for us. He whistled and catcalled at me, and I would have slapped the creep right out of him had it not been for the counselor in the room, the same counselor who’s making Aubrey blush.

I’m probably going to hear about it tonight. She seems like the type that’ll spend the whole night jabbering away while someone else (like me, for example) is trying to sleep. We’re probably not going to get along, but that’s only because we’re so different. She seems so happy and airy that I’m not quite sure how she’s made it this far in life without being hurt or taken advantage of by somebody.

I hope that counselor doesn’t get any ideas.

I’m still miserable.

The only good part about this group therapy session is that Forrest is here too. He sends me a small conspiratorial smile and I return it with a quiet, unnoticed giggle.

Dr. Poxleitner sits up straight, very prim and proper in her pretty white blouse and black pencil skirt. Her jewelry is bright and blocky and a pair of thick black glasses rest on the end of her nose. Her black hair is piled up on her head messily, however, but she carries it gracefully none the less. She smiles at all of us as she clasps her hands on the clipboard resting on her lap.

“Does anybody know what a safe space is?” she asks, pushing her glasses up her nose daintily. Aubrey raises her hand excitedly and the counselor, Sebastian, smiles a little. “Aubrey?”

“A place where you can talk about anything.” She’s so naïve and sweet, it almost hurts. I feel a little bad for not liking her.

“That’s right! And this,” the good doctor says, gesturing around the room, “is one of those places. It’s a completely open, safe space. Whether it’s in group, like now, for example, or when I see you one-on-one, I want you guys to feel like you can say anything you’d like in here. I don’t want anyone to feel like they’re being judged or like they’re better than anyone else. We’re all trying to get a little better here. It’s a journey we’re taking together! We’re like a family of sorts,” she says, laughing quietly. She’s serious for a moment. “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything. Do I make myself clear? I’m not going to stand for anybody being made fun of here or anybody making fun of anyone else.” Her seriousness disappears and is replaced by her cheerful countenance. “Right, then.” She sighs calmly. “The first step in solving a problem is admitting you have a problem! I want us all to go around the room and say why we’re here, okay?” She smiles widely, excited. “Who wants to go first?”

We give her blank looks.

Forrest mouths, “Let’s get out of here.” I nod dumbly and he smiles. I could melt. “Where should we go?”

“Anywhere,” I answer. He raises an eyebrow and for a few moments, we’re in our own little world.

“How about you, Sebastian?”

The blonde counselor gets up (and Aubrey stares at him unabashedly) and starts talking about whatever problem he used to have when he was our age (even though he looks like he’s only a couple of years older than us), and how this camp helped him change his life, and how he’s giving back and so on. I don’t care and neither does Forrest.

We’re making plans to go swimming tomorrow night. It’s like we’re the only people here and it feels nice, I guess. It’s calming and sweet, and it lasts…well, at least it does until Dr. Poxleitner whines a little, stomping her high heel clad feet sullenly.

“You guys! C’mon! Who wants to go next?” We look at her and she’s frowning. “Do I need to pick names out of a hat?” After a few awkward moments, Aubrey stands up, smoothing her floral dress down with her hands. She seems slightly hesitant as she tucks her hair behind her ear.

“Hi. My name’s Aubrey…and…and I’m, um, I’m a sugar junkie.”

We clap lightly after Dr. Poxleitner does. Keegan giggles and the doctor narrows her eyes at him, mouth in a line.

“Hey! Everybody here has serious problems, whether you see it that way or not.” She glances at Aubrey, whose face burns with embarrassment. “Thank you very much, Aubrey.” Aubrey smiles a little, picking at the hem of her dress, swinging her legs lightly. “And since you think that’s so funny,” she says, turning her attention back to Keegan, “why don’t you go next?”

He frowns and slouches in his chair. Forrest rolls his eyes. “Ay, so, my name’s Keegan and I like pot. A lot.” He snickers immaturely, covering his mouth with his hand a little. “Yo, that rhymes.” It’s my turn to roll my eyes. I sink down further into the hard chair, hoping that I’ll go unnoticed.

“Very funny,” the doctor says dryly. She turns to the girl sitting next to me. “Would you like to go next?” The girl shrugs flippantly, tucking some of her thin brown hair behind her ear. She wears thin hoop earrings. She looks nervous and thin, and even though she’s tan, it’s unhealthy tan, almost yellow, like she’s sick.

“Um…I’m Lupe and, um…uppers are my best friends.” She slumps back down into her seat lazily. I guess she hasn’t taken anything in a while, seeing as she looks unhealthy and is shaking a little. She’s probably going through withdrawal.

“Thank you, Lupe.” She looks at Forrest. “You go next.”

“I, uh…I’m Forrest and I like to drink.”

He sits down and I offer him a small smile. He doesn’t seem like the drinking type, but sometimes it’s the people we last expect who have the biggest problems.

“And you?” Dr. Poxleitner smiles politely at me. “Go ahead.” I chew my bottom lip.

“Do I have to?” I ask quietly.

“Everybody else did. You can too!” She sounds reassuring and I don’t believe her because it’s not like I have a drinking problem (like Forrest) or a sugar problem (like Aubrey). I have a bigger problem than they all do and it’s not something I can talk about so candidly like everyone else. I’m not trying to be dramatic, I just don’t want to talk about it.

I don’t even want to be here.

“So, if everybody throws themselves off a cliff, I should too?” There’s a collective chuckle. I look at her blankly, silently begging her to just let it go.

Of course, she won’t.

“Well, of course not, but it’s not the same—”

“Then I don’t have to do this.”

“What are you hidin’, tootsie roll?” Keegan asks.

“What? Who the hell is tootsie roll?”

“Language,” the doctor reminds me cautiously.

“Feisty. I like it.” I scowl at him, rolling my eyes as he wriggles his eyebrows.

“What are you so scared of?” asks Aubrey curiously. I don’t think she’s asking to be rude. I think she’s just wondering. Regardless, I don’t plan on answering any of them, but they just won’t let up.

“I’m not.”

“So do it,” Lupe says.

“I don’t want to. Nobody was talking to you anyway.”

“Excuse me?”

“Excuse—wait, what?” I look at her, frowning my eyebrows. “I don’t even—what?”

“Stop being a little punk and just do it already, god!”

“What’s your problem?”

“You!”

“Ladies!” the doctor exclaims, flustered. “Stop it. Apologize.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I mumble sullenly, crossing my arms over my chest, shaking my head.

“It’s not my fault she’s a dumb c—”

“Don’t,” Dr. Poxleitner warns. “Would you give it a rest please?” Lupe mumbles something under her breath as the doctor takes a deep breath. “Anyway…would you please tell us why you’re here?”

“I really, really don’t feel comfort—”

“Baa-wk, bawk, bawk, bawk! Chicken,” Keegan jokes.

“I’m not afraid of anything.”

I’m not. After all I’ve seen, I really shouldn’t be.

“Prove it,” Lupe laughs.

I stand up with frustration, crossing my arms over my chest as I look at the suddenly interesting floor.

“Um…Hi. My name is Kalliope, and I self harm.” There’s a long, very awkward silence as realization comes over everyone’s faces. “Are you all happy now?”