Good intentions

Part 1. Chapter 1

- Excuse me, but can I have a colored one? Like all the others. Gray is very dull, - Luz Noceda looked longingly at the set of camp t-shirts she had just received from the counselor. A plump dark-skinned boy with bushy, tousled hair dragged her aside before she could hear the answer. He also held a gray uniform in his hands.

- Look, this is not Disney. Don't ask the people in white too much questions if you don't want trouble - it's the camp staff.

- Isn't it their job to help and all that? - the girl was confused.

- Rookie, a gray uniform is for the punished, although it is not customary to use this definition, - the interlocutor ignored Luz's question and began to retell what he had learned from a more experienced fellow traveler a couple of hours ago, - The administration of the camp decides who will have which color. For supposedly "ethical reasons" they do not disclose to us what it means, but it is not difficult to guess that this is nothing more than a stigma - who is guilty of what. Blue T-shirts are the most innocuous. You can earn it if you're a good kid, you know? But most of all they fuss over the green ones. I guess it's not interesting too. Brown - for gadget nerds. Orange for those who like to run away from home. The coolest guys are the red ones, they're kind of anti-social anarchist psychopaths. Yellow is for drug addicts and alcoholics, but this may not be true. I don't know about purple. They usually do the most work. Like a "leadership program", yeah. They are even placed in separate rooms. Not like us - the plebeians.

- I'm sorry, what's your name?

- Call me King and you can't go wrong.

***

- I have no idea what to write at all, - Luz banged her forehead against the coffee table in desperation, hoping to force out at least a couple of decent lines. The notebook sheet was shining with whole-hearted emptiness.

- How about truth? - Counselor Clawthorne threw a pack of chips while the girl's was attempting again to hit her head. The crumbs shot out like paprika-flavored confetti.

- Are you kidding? Tell my mom that I screwed up on the first day of camp and ended up in the house of punishment? She paid a fortune to send me here!

- So, firstly, here it's not some shithole. You will also realize that my house is the best thing that happened to you. And secondly, you write fanfiction, but you can't make things look a bit better?

- Eda, I don't want to teach you to do your job, but shouldn't you guide me on the right path? - Noceda didn't have the spirit to do the right thing, so the last hope was the counselor, who wasn't going to quote the Bible unlike all the staff at the Blessed Isles Summer Camp.

When Luz was expelled from school again, the chance to correct all the missteps appeared out of nowhere. It was as if the universe had heard the pleas of a small Connecticut family. In the mailbox they suddenly found an invitation to a self-improvement vacation from the Christian community: nine unforgettable weeks in the fresh air, comfortable accommodation, swimming lessons and needlework, hiking, fruits and vegetables in the diet, rabbit farm, financial literacy classes, plus conversations with the pastor and psychologists. In addition, a 30% discount coupon. "We don't fix your child; we help the child to become better!" - that's what the slogan promised on a colorful brochure. But as much as Luz wants to be a better person so that no one else has to suffer from her abnormality, she managed to start a fire in only a few hours after her arrival.

The boy's bedroom door slammed. A minute later a short guy in skeleton pajamas came into the common room - another record holder of the Blessed Isles, sent into exile before his bus left the camp. Noceda turned to her fellow sufferer.

- King, what did you write to your parents?

Edalyn Clawthorne hissed in panic.

- No parents - no problems, - that's all Dean King shared with his only roommate.