Tim
The first thing I notice is the trees. The endless trees, like the paintbrushes of an artist, stuck in a jar, all much too close together and much too dense. If I was a creative soul, I'd probably have admired them. But as it is, I notice. I observe. And I take note.
I'm standing in this half circle of teens, and they're all chatting away. Most of them came with friends. I don't know anyone here. Even if I had, I don't think I would have talked to them. I don't enjoy talking.
I see the woman before they see her. She's sturdy as if she lifts weights, and her army pants and white tank top leave her arms exposed to the sun. Her hair, it's done in tiny braids, running down the length of her head. Already, she has a commanding presence. Nobody else has noticed her yet, they're too busy yapping away, their mouths ceaseless and untired. I watch.
"Hello and welcome to Camp Turmoil, " she belts, and they all fall silent. Suddenly, there is a sea of heads, turning towards her. I wonder how that feels. Uncomfortable probably. People looking. People judging. She doesn't look unnerved however and I can't help but think, why on earth was she giving up her summer to mind the bratty teenagers of others? If I was an adult, I'd avoid teenagers altogether.
"My name is Donna, and I will be your leader, " she tells us. Donna. Even her name, it sounds like the name of a commander. Donna then proceeds to tell us all the rules. I'm not sure if they listen. But I do.
We can't go swimming after dark in the river. No climbing trees. No sabotage of the shelters of others. Each person must participate in every challenge unless health issues prevent doing so. And no, lazy is not a health issue. The rules go on for a while. Lot's of do's and don'ts. Some people listen. Others ignore her, chatting away amongst themselves. I drink them all in. Rules and structure. How can they not be admired, so perfect, so sharp, so ideal. Flawless. The only flaw is when people don't comply.
"I'm now going to put you into groups of four, so listen carefully for your name. These people are going to be your teammates for the duration of the camp, a large proportion of task completion depends on them, so be nice, "
I can see some people looking around, eyes wide. Clearly, they hadn't read the description on the camp's website. Donna begins to call out names. The person called out steps out to the middle, waits for their team to assemble and is directed to a specific tree which is marked in some way. Home bases.
All the names are called out, and there are only four people left standing on their own. Those people are me, another guy and two girls, one standing a little way away, the other, pressing against the dude so small she may have been twelve. So these are my teammates. I gauge their physical capacity, try to determine whether their intelligence level will help us accomplish tasks. They all seem in good form. I wait for our names to be called out. The sun creeps up my back, and I step a little further into the shade.
"Atlanta Savage, " Donna says, and the tiny one steps out. The idea of someone so small being given the second name Savage, is funny. The rest of the campers think so too. They laugh. The girl laughs too and does a mock curtsey, unperturbed. I can't help but feel awe towards her display of such confidence.
"Phoenix Hall, " and the guy who was with her, he steps out too. He's very tall, a basketballer, and the girl barely stands to reach his shoulders. Clearly, they are very friendly with each other, as he drapes one arm over her and she kicks him in the shins, and then they both laugh.I wonder are they dating.
"Lorraine Chaw, "
The last girl, the one who's so skinny that her clothes hand off her like a rail, she glides over to join the three. Her skin is pale, clearly, she hasn't seen much sun this summer or she's taking care with her sunscreen. She smiles at the other two, and that girl, Atlanta she ignores the handshake and leans in for a hug. I'm so busy watching that I almost miss my name.
"Tim Blake, "
My feet are moving towards the group. I can feel the eyes of the other campers digging into my back. I wish I could slip back into the shadows.
"Hi, I'd tell you my name but it would be stupid too since you already heard, " Atlanta says the second I reach them and then she's hugging me too " please to meet you, "
I don't know what to do with this. I have no clue how hugging works, where my hands are supposed to go on this strangers body. The boy, Phoenix, he sees and a smile cracks up his features.
"Come on Atlanta, not everybody is a hugger, " he laughs and rescues me with grace. Atlanta mock pouts, and then she spins around and shimmies off to where Donna has directed us, turning back once to smile at Phoenix.
"Now that everybody's in their groups, it's time to come up with a name, " Donna says with distinct carte blanche. I like that term. Khart Blanch. Unconditional authority. Everybody falls quiet again. Donna looks at her watch " you have a minute, go, "
As if on cue, we all turn to face each other.
"How about the Lions? " Lorraine offers instantly, but Phoenix shakes his head.
"Nah, it's too generic, " he disagrees " we need something original, "
"Something to turn heads, " Atlanta seconds him, and then her whole face brightens. I can almost see the light bulb above her head, alight with ideas " The Savory Turtles, "
Lorraine giggles and her hand, with nails so perfectly manicured, goes up to cover her mouth. If I was a talker, I'd ask her where she got them done. But I'm not a talker, and I guess there are a lot worse things of not being, than not being a talker. Everybody raves about being somebody. But there are things not to be to. People forget that. People forget a lot of things.
"Forty seconds, "
"How about you call them out, I'll write them down, " I offer.
As much as I hate doing so, I pull out the notebook for appointments out of my bag, and the pen that goes with it. Phoenix looks surprised. This is precisely the reason why I don't take out notebooks in front of other people. Surprise that a guy even has a notebook is always a part of my day. But this is camp, I'll never see them again, so why the hell not? I think.
The Concerned Squirrels
The Imperfect Shrews
The Wacky Salamanders
The Dark Lobsters
The Combative Monkeys
These all appear on the page. Donna tells us that we have fifteen more seconds to settle on the name, and then she's judging. The most original get's points. Phoenix and Atlanta argue a little. Lorraine sides with the latter, and then time is up and Donna is asking us for the name.
"The Wacky Salamanders, " Atlanta calls out, and I can see the pleased expression on Donna's face when she writes it down. It's like not many smart people come here, or like it's too much to expect something original to come out of a teenagers mouth. Other campers are whispering. I'm scared they'll change their name now, and we won't be the most original.
But I needn't have worried. Their team names, couldn't be more basic, more teenage like. We even come across a team named YOLO. You Only Live Once. I wonder what the people who believe in reincarnation have to say about that one. I want to roll my eyes, but expression isn't really my thing. Donna tells us that The Wacky Salamanders take first place, followed by The Big Bang in second and the Fire Dancers in third. Our original thinking has earned us three stars, putting us in the lead already.
Some other teams shoot us poisonous looks. The Wacky Salamanders await their first task.
YOU ARE READING
Turmoil
Teen Fiction""And you see, maybe people, maybe we're like those cars. We meet others, we crash, some crashes more powerful than others, we change. Impact. It means the death of something, doesn't it?" Tim : (adjective), a writer who's feelings are pressed into...
