I woke up at my desk, my head resting on the keyboard. I squinted at the screen and read the little message. Your message has been received without interception. 2:00p.m.
What does the time mean? I wondered and checked the clock by my bedside table. It was 8:30 in the morning. I guess I shall eat breakfast and then try to determine what the time means later. I headed downstairs, still wearing the same dress as yesterday, and grabbed a box of lucky charms from the pantry.
“Good Morning Riley,” My mother greeted me as I grabbed a bowl from the cubboard and milk from the fridge.
“Good morning mother,” I smiled at her and continued making my breakfast.
“I know I have been extremely busy for the last few months,” She looked at me as she folded her omlet, “But since I finished that jingle yesterday, I figured that we could go somewhere this summer. Another country maybe, what do you think? Any place you always wanted to go?”
Well, I was about to answer with our ancestors home of Ireland, until I remembered I have just signed up for a summer camp and the application form stated I would be gone until mid August.
“I’m sorry,” I gave her a sympathetic look and thought of a lie, and the best lies are close to the truth, “I guess I forgot to tell you because you were so busy. I signed up to be a counceler at this summer camp in Vermont.”
“Oh, well how long is that supposed to be?” She questioned me as I sat down with my lucky charms.
“Till August 15” I frowned, “I am really sorry I didn’t tell you, you were just so busy that I haven’t really got to talk to you very much.”
“And the camp is just going to let you go without my permision or anything?” She put down her fork, “Your only 16, Riley. Your not a legal adult and I think they should get the parents permission first. I would like a word with the person who-“
“Mom,” I interrupted her, knowing I have no way for her to contact the camp. I don’t even know where it really is! “I almost forgot, you do have to sign something! The application form was online but there is a slip I need to bring to the camp director when I arrive!”
Before she could reply, I ran upstairs and got on my computer. When I google searched Vermont Camps, I found a symbol of a moose and the name “Camp Winowa”. I copied and pasted the logo on the top of a word document, typed a mile a minute, and printed it on the good paper.
“I really hope she buys this” I mumbled to myself as I fumbled with the house phone. I dialed Wendy’s number and tapped my fingers on the desk. She picked up on the third ring.
“Wendy?” I whispered into the phone.
“Riley? Ugh, it’s like 8 in the morning. And its Summer! What is wrong with you?” She grumbled.
“I don’t have time to explain,” I whispered quickly into the speakers, “Get your grown up voice ready and pretend you are the camp director for Camp Winowa in Vermont, okay? I promise to explain afterwards.”
“Ri-“ I hung up on her and put the phone back on the hook. I took the stairs two at a time and skipped into the kitchen. My mother sat with one eyebrow raised suspiciously.
“I forgot all about the slip and where I put it,” I smiled at her and handed her the piece of paper.
“Yeah,” She mumbled and searched the document, “Can you get me the phone dear? I want to call the Camp Director. I don’t want you going to a camp that far away if I don’t know the person that runs it.”
“Of course mother,” I walked to the phone and was grateful I put a phone number of a person I knew below the logo. Then I prayed that Wendy would be able to pull it off, she said she pretened to be her mom and the school secretary all of the time to avoid trouble. How hard could a camp director be for her then?
“Thank you, honey,” My mom took the phone and dialed the number. She put on her smiling buisness face and tapped a pen against the unsigned paper. “Hello, this is Deborah Preston. Is this the camp director of Camp Winowa?...Oh, yes, my daughter, Riley, is signed up to be a counceler and I was just wondering what the camp was all about….Oh really?.....That sounds wonderful……A lake?.....Oh, yes, I have been to Ireland as a teenager…the grass is really that green?...That sounds just lovely!...Thats dissapointing, you should really try to add a parent visit to your camp…That is a fantastic exerience but I still feel that the parents should have a day to visit out of the couple of months she will be spending there…..Uhhuh….Really?.....Dartmouth, Skidmore, and Harvard repesentitives teach the campers and counclers! That’s amazing…..Well, this sounds like a great experince!...I am extremely proud my daughter got accepted to Camp Winowa…..okay, I understand….Have a nice day Mrs. Walkers, it was nice talking to you.”
She hung up the phone and signed the paper. I know I don’t really need the paper, but her signing it does mean I will be able to go to the camp and become an official Bad A**.
“Thank you mother,” I grinned, kissed her on the cheek, and ran up stairs to pack.
YOU ARE READING
Bad A** (UNEDITIED RAW VERSION)
Teen FictionThis is just up for me and all :/ I have begun writing a more edited version of this story and it is posted under "Bad A**" that is not the most editied, I have only begun a different take on the story and will edit the story further. But hey, if yo...
