Wicked

The day I met David was the kind of day that everyone loathes. It was mid-summer (just before my junior year), so it was hot. Insanely hot. The kind of hot that makes your legs stick to leather couches. The kind of hot that lets you fry an egg on the sidewalk. The kind of hot that made you accept lemonade from strangers because you honestly didn't care if it was poisoned, as long as it was cold. The kind that had people who shouldn't really be wearing bikinis parading around in them like a second skin. That hot.

It was also dull. Dull enough that even my grandma was complaining that there was nothing to do in the heat. Dull enough that I was okay with watching my little brother. Dull enough that once the news report came on, everyone jumped. Even me. Okay, especially me.

My Gran and I were in the living room, her with a fan in her hand on the recliner, and I lying on the carpet. My brother, Matthew was in the kitchen with his face in front of the air, revelling in the mini-Antarctica it created. We had the Tv on, though only Gran was really paying attention, until..

"And back to you George," the female news reporter said, with an overly cheerful smile that was framed by botox infused lips. George smiled in return as the camera came back to him.

"Thanks Nancy," he started, "It's always a pleasure to hear from you." Suddenly his ever-present smile faltered before he spoke again.
"This just in: a bizarre accident has occurred on Miller's Road. It seems a bus taking.." he paused as if looking for the right word, "new recruits to Camp Adams has crashed. Someone phoned in an injury, and police and ambulance are on their way. More on this story at 6, but now onto Charles with the weather.."

I jumped up to mute the Tv, no longer caring about the heat wave. "Gran," I said, "What's Camp Adams?"

She looked at me in that 'oh stupid youth' way before even thinking about answering my question. "Camp Adams is a juvenile detention camp meant to reinforce good behavior in all those wicked children." I scrunched my eyebrows up, trying to recall any mention of this place before in my life.

"And, where is this camp?" I asked her. Matthew had wandered in at this point, seeming just as curious as I. He perched himself on the arm of the couch across from granny.

"It's just on the outskirts of town, I believe. Past the old cotton mill. Past the dairy. It might even be in Lewisville." She said, thoughtfully.

"Hmmm," I said, curiously. I had never before heard of anything like that around here. It was new and strange and exciting.

"Been there for years. Even when I was a girl, though it was just starting up then. It was big in the news around that time. A lot of folks in town were protesting it." Gran said, "But no matter; that place hasn't caused us no harm, and see, you didn't even know it existed."

"What do ya gotta do to get into that place?" Matt asked her, his eyes holding a devilish quality.

"Gran, let's not give the kid any more ideas than he already has, okay?" I pleaded, finally getting up from the floor. She chuckled and waved me off.

"Oh Lindsey, he ain't nowhere near as bad as those in there. They're in there for much more than stealing a bra or eating the last popsicle." She said, still chuckling.

"Yeah, yeah," I said, "So, hey, Gran... Is it alright if I borrow the car to go down to the lake? It's awfully hot." I ask, in my best helpless teenager voice.

"Why, that sounds like a great idea," she said, the lines around her eyes crinkling as she smiled. "Just take your brother with." And...fail.

"But Gran, Matthew is terrible at swimming. How am I going to watch him and still enjoy the water? Besides, he probably doesn't even want to go." I said, defensively.

"No, I want to go. In fact I'll be changing!" He said and scampered upstairs to his room.

"That's that," Gran said, "Just make sure he gets back in one, alive piece."