The Girl at Camp Green Lake

Untitled Part 5

 The next few days are very repetitive. Wake up, dig, eat, dig, eat, sleep, and then do it all again. Ever since I almost passed out while digging, I've tried to slow down and drink more water. At least I get to take more breaks. And lunch has never tasted better. Even though it's most always a thin piece of rubbery cheese and slimy turkey set between two slices of stale bread. Not even any mayonnaise. I was right about eventually becoming another brick in the wall, everyone in the D tent seems to have accepted and moved on from me. I wish I could say the same for the other tents. Madric, the boy with the face that strongly resembles a smashed pumpkin, can't seem to stop looking at me, blowing me kisses, winking. He's even ran into a wall once while catcalling me. Except there aren't any walls at camp green lake. Just tents. You can imagine what happened next.

Word has spread around about my digging incident. I've heard the whispers, walking to the D tent, the showers, even while digging.

"Look, there's the chick. Look at her."

"You hear what happened on her first day diggin'?"

"She must have been tryin'a dig her way back to hell."

I'm sick of it. The only thing that gives me hope at this point is the fact that none of the diligent boys have given me a nickname yet. I can only imagine what it might be. But all of that is quickly erased from my mind on the 5th day at camp hell hole.

I'm walking back to the tent with Squid, having a very meaningful conversation about whether there are more wheels or doors in the world.

"No," I tell him sternly. "There has to be more wheels, because think of how many cars and rollie-thingies there are in the world. Doors are only doors; wheels can be anything."

He stifles a laugh, knowing by now that it isn't very good for your physical and mental health to get on my bad side. "Whatever Satan, forget about it."

I grin, knowing that I've won the argument, but stop immediately when I realize what he just called me.

"What did you just say?" I asked him. It takes one look at his expression to see that he knows.

"Forget about it?" His face is as red as a tomato, and I don't think it's from the sun.

"Before that."

"I said whatever."

"No," I insist. "You called me Satan."

"Did not." By now we've stopped walking completely.

"Yes, you did. You called me Satan."

"No, I didn't."

"You are such a bad liar." I tell him.

"Listen, I didn't make it up, Barfbag did. And it sounded so normal, so we all started callin' you it. It's better than what Zigzag thought of naming you, anyway."

Surprised by his sudden outburst, I feel embarrassed now for pushing him so far. "What was he gonna call me?" I ask, partly to cover up my guild and partly because I'm actually curious.

Squid grunts something inaudible, then says, "Love."

I silently gag. This is what I was afraid of. "Love?"

Squid nods, his gaze fixed on something invisible on the dry sandy horizon.

"Well," I state matter-of-factly, "Tell Barfbag I said thank you for stopping that from happening."

"Why don't you tell me yourself?" a gruff voice asks from behind us. Barfbag. Along with all the other boys except Zero, who was already back in the tent.