Dear Journal,
Wow. This is stupid. My parents think it'll be good for us to write our feelings down in a notebook. I guess if I'm forced to... Hi. Name's Marcus. And by the "us", I mean me and my twin sister, Chelsea. But she's weird. I'm the cool one. So we have a little secret, if that's what you'd like to call it. See, it started about four months ago.
After about one free week of summer vacation, we were shipped, unwillingly, to Camp Raccoon. You can probably guess why they call it that. Not only is it the number one most boring place in the universe besides school, it is in the woods, just south of nowhere-land. As an added bonus, you get a free raccoon attacking you with your paid purchase of two months of blah. And, the guy I hate the most goes there too- Pablo, a snotty guy from the dumps of Europe who thinks he's all that and more. And, of course, Chelsea drools over him.
Early in the morning we packed up our junk and clothes. No electronics allowed may be the worst rule the camp has. Chelsea spent an extra half hour crying over Skadoosh, our wonderful dog. A full three feet tall, he towers over other dogs. Inside, he's really a wimp. While she did that, I tried to make my hair as scary as possible by messing it up. Not that it needed help- the natural pitch black colors has scared the other kids away from me for five years in a row. And on top of that, I have the "soul eyes". Kids say that our electric blue eyes look through a person and paralyze their soul. The difference between me and Chelsea is that I actually use it to keep kids away from me. I hate most people. Authority figures, kids younger then me, kids older then me, Pablo, and just about everyone else. Except for this one girl, Karen. She's three months younger then me, and two inches shorter. Trust me, I've measured. The one pair of decent clothes I pack is reserved for the day that I get to see her, whenever that is. Trouble is, I scare her too. Other then that, I wear the universal color of the night- black. No, it's not Goth, It's just black.
So after my folks went to wander around, I settled into the same bogus cabin that I've had for five years. Cabin 106, the cabin where I am the only person who is halfway normal. I room with four other 14-year old guys. Ollie is a magician wannabe. You know you're at the right cabin when you see cards all over the floor, and his pet rabbit running around, waiting to be stepped on. Then there's Alex. He's almost normal. Almost. He has this tendency to twitch whenever he talks. It bugs the crap out of me. I try to avoid him. Next there's Nick, the know it all. Or at least he thinks he does. Then there's Mike. He IS Goth. With the depressing poetry and all. We get along, but he really overdoes it, and tries t be a loner. This means he ignores us all, for the most part.
After an oh-so-joyous campfire celebration in which a rat leaped into the flames, my folks left, and I was finally on my own. This is when things really got interesting.
