The Girl at Camp Green Lake

Untitled Part 3

The cafeteria was a large room. It had rows of tables lined up against the wall on one side, and the kitchen on the other. The lighting was excruciatingly bright and obnoxious. The bulbs hanging from the ceiling kept flickering and making this high-pitched whining noise, which was driving me crazy from the moment I stepped foot in the room. There was another high-pitched whining noise, I noticed; and it was coming from the boys in there. 

Every time one of the servers plopped a clump of mashed potatoes onto someone's tray, a collective groan rose up over the constant chatter of the room. At first, I thought they were just over exaggerating, but as I got farther along down the line, I began to understand their disgust. The food was absolutely despicable. I think it was supposed to be chili, but it looked more like mud and mashed peas mixed together. (I found out later that it tasted like that too.) Of all the meals I'd been imagining on my walk here, this was not one of them. I also realized, as I was slinking through the line to receive my dinner, that the servers were not adults, but campers, just like me. I almost threw up at the realization that those dirty boys who spent all day out in the hot sun, were the same people making the food I would be eating. The more I learned about this place the worse It got.

 Finally, I broke through to the end of the line and began to weave my way through the crowd of boys to where the tables were. The boys seemed to be separated by tents. I could see each letter written onto pieces of papers and duct-taped onto the wall above each table. It went all the way from Tent A to Tent D. I found myself actually beginning to appreciate being in Tent D, because I wouldn't have to worry about trying to differentiate my tent-mates from all the other dust stained faces. I just had to find Tent A and go from there until I got to the end. 

Then I realized that was a stupid worry anyway, because the letter of each tent was already written onto pieces of papers and duct-taped onto the wall above each table. I sat myself down between two of the boys from Tent D. Magnet and Zero, I think. I then braved another glance at my food. It was still just as nasty as before. 

Barfbag cleared his throat and looked at me.

"Hey, uhh..." He paused a moment as he tried to remember my name. "Jadice, that's it. You wouldn't mind giving me your bread, since I was out diggin' all day?" He asked me sweetly. It was more of a statement than answer, because I didn't have a chance to answer before he started to reach over to grab my single slice of bread, the only edible looking thing on my tray. Before he could take it though, I grabbed it and stuffed all of it in my mouth, earning disgusted groans from everyone else.

Barfbag sat back, looking mildly embarrassed, but mostly amused. Despite myself, I grinned back at him through a mouthful of bread.

"Remind me to never try and take her food." Armpit told Xray. Xray promised him and they shook on it.  

"Jeeze," Magnet wiggled his eyebrows teasingly. "You sure can fit a lot in your mouth!" the whole table erupted in laughter at that. I, on the other hand, was not amused by that joke, surprisingly enough. I decided right then and there that I did not think very highly of Magnet. Not that I do of any of them, that is. 

I washed the bread down with a sip of water. It wasn't as refreshing as I had imagined it to be when I first got off the bus this morning. I looked down at the rest of my food. If you could even call it that.

"Go ahead and eat up, Chika. You'll need it for tomorrow." Magnet tells me soberly. I wrinkle my nose at the revolting stuff and take a bite. I gag as the slimy chili finds its way down my throat.

Barfbag stirs his mud and peas. "So, what'd you do to get here?"

I suddenly realized how dirty my fingernails are. I'd better clean them when I take a shower. I wonder how the whole shower thing is going to work. Because there is no way I 'm going to be showering with a bunch of boys. Never. I sigh. There's no point in avoiding it. The sooner I tell them and , the sooner I can be forgotten.