KALIKABUZA

Chapter 68

"In all my years, I've never seen such a terrible lack of respect and indifference towards the establishment. You have all tarnished the integrity of this camp and sabotaged everything!" DJ Werfroza crosses his arms and looks at us hard. His grey eyes squint under a wrinkled brow, and hints of grey hair on his head appear with the lights of the Dome. "But you have proven one thing to me in the end: that summer camps like these should be only for the most academically inclined and well behaved students in schools all over the country as their reward, not just pay-to-play for any reckless, misbehaving teen who wants to go full anarchist in the summer."

"Is that your conclusion then?" Nate asks casually.

DJ Werfroza doesn't immediately look at Nate, as first he gives as many campers as he can his death gaze. "I think the proof speaks for itself," he says.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up!" Duke cries and stands on the table again. "So you really are admitting in front of us that... you're not really a DJ and that this camp was–"

"You, camper, what's your name?" DJ Werfroza asks.

"Uh, Duke."

"Ah, yes. Anderson. There's a lot of buzz about you. You're the one who's been setting up all those turfs."

Duke smirks nervously. "Well, I..."

"Tell me, kid, what do you think you know?"

"I know that this whole camp is rigged."

"And why do you think that?" asks the DJ.

"Come on! It's obvious. No rules, barely any camp counsellors, weed and booze everywhere... this isn't accidental. You guys made it this way."

"And who do you believe we are?"

Duke shrugs. "Well, you're not a real DJ, that's for sure."

There is a new wave of voices, this time with questions and demands all at once. Questions about who DJ Werfroza really is. Demands to know why the camp was rigged. Even my own teammates are raising their voices.

"You're too nosy, kid," DJ Werfroza says. "It's not a good idea to poke your nose where it doesn't belong."

"And you're giving off all the wrong vibes, everyone knows you're not a DJ!" Duke answers.

"You're a math teacher!" some kid calls out.

"Yeah! You used to teach at some school in–"

"Okay, that's enough!" DJ Werfroza shouts. "Whatever you all think you know is way above your heads and you kids shouldn't be–"

"Why don't you just tell them?" asks the solemn voice of Nate Ponzio. "You can't hide a secret in today's world. Would you rather they take these doubts home only for their parents to retaliate with lawsuits?"

DJ Werfroza huffs and puffs in anger. Campers begin to throw looks and questions at him. He crosses his arms and rolls his eyes. "Fine."

"Finally!" Duke cheers.

"We are a new political party focused on educational reform. All the problems we face in this country are a direct result of the poor quality of our education system, and the severe lack of discipline in today's schools. Teens no longer respect their elders. Teens no longer care about their studies or their grades. All that teens care about is being on their phones, and social media, and engaging in immoral activities. We only want to show in the upcoming elections that schools need to step up their discipline and be far more strict. Kalikabuza was our isolated–"

"Experiment! Ha, I was right!" Duke shouts. "See? See? Now y'all believe me?"

"All right, settle!" Werfroza cries. "It's not the conspiracy theory you're hoping for so badly. We only sat and watched the events of this camp, taking notes, but not interfering. That's it. That's all. Everything that has happened is 100% on you, and, in fact..." Werfroza chuckles–and we all feel uncomfortable when he does that. "I should be thanking you all, because what you have done, all this chaos and misbehavior, all this lack of self-control and respect, is exactly what proves that our educational reform needs to be implemented. But still, things turned out even worse than I expected."

"Wait, though," says Michelle, standing up. "So you're saying that you pretty much used us for your political... agenda, or whatever? So you knew we would end like this?"

"I wouldn't put in those terms, but–"

"So what about you, Nate?" asks Michelle. "You were in on this too?"

Everyone turns to look at Nate. Now he doesn't look as radiant or vibrant as he did on our first day. He looks at us with eyes that border between tearful and rageful. "I was aware of this, yeah. How could I not? It's my park, and to run it and the camp, I had to accept the help of a–"

"A third party," Michelle interrupts. "This is the third party? This political group?"

Nate nods.

"But you're not affiliated with them?" Duke asks.

Nate looks at Werfroza, who shoots him a dirty look. We feel the tension. "As a matter of fact..." says Nate, "I am not. And you know what, guys? I regret taking money from their group." Nate Ponzio faces us with wide eyes and open palms. "I apologize to you all for giving you a camp where you felt unsafe, where things were unclear and hidden from you. Believe me, I wanted to give you a summer camp that you would remember for a lifetime. If anything, this is all my–"

"And you did," someone says. "We enjoyed it–as much as we could, the moments that we could." It's Blake. He's tall enough not to need to stand on a table. His head towers over the rest of the campers. "But it's not your fault. I have proof."

At the word proof we all turn to Blake.

"Proof? Proof of what?" Werfroza scoffs. "Give it a rest. We're a political party, not the Illuminati."

"Maybe not, but I have proof that you rigged the camp to fit your agenda."

Werfroza raises an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Blake walks up to Nate across the other side of the Dome. He takes out his phone and shows him something. We all crowd around like pigeons around a piece of bread. Nate looks hard at whatever it is that Blake is showing him.

"Show us!" Duke cries. "What is it?"

"Proof!" Blake insists. "It's proof that the weed and the booze wasn't brought to camp by us. It's a video I shot just outside of the Dome at night of Werfroza and Tristen, the counsellor, opening up a box full of bottles. They smuggled it in and they were the ones who distributed it to us."

"I... I don't know what you think you saw," says Werfroza, "but you're making some very serious accusations."

Nate walks up to Werfroza with Blake's phone in hand. "I'm no forensic expert, but it's pretty damn clear what you're doing in this video. Is it true?"

"Nate, if you so much as join these kids' conspiracy game, I'm going to defund your park and–"

"And I," says Nate, holding up Blake's phone for us to see. I can make out a screenshot of two men opening boxes with what appear to be beer bottles, "am going to report you to the police. This is a crime right here. Your experiment with the camp may have been legitimate and legal, but your tampering with the campers' experience to get the outcome you wanted was a dirty move, and providing them with substances to make them do what you wanted them to do... that's just downright illegal, Werfel."

"Werfel?" Duke breaks into laughter.

"Robert Werfel Roza, yes," Nate confirms. "And I agree, he's a shitty DJ."

"Your park is over!" the math-teacher-political-radicalist-wannabe-DJ yells. "Prepare for the biggest lawsuit of your life! I will make sure they bulldoze your stupid park to the ground!"

"Well, I guess I'll see you in court."

"Werfroza, you suck!" someone shouts. And all of a sudden, the campers begin to boo and yell at this fake DJ. Even I stand and boo. Some campers bang the tables, others stomp the ground. This is exactly the kind of adolescent disorder that Werfroza hates, and it reflects on his panicked and overwhelmed face. He yells something at us, and something at Nate, but our uproar is louder. Then, Werfroza storms out of Dynamo Dome. We jump and cheer. Finally, after all the gloom and silence, there is cheer.