There's Something About Juvie

Not So Happy Campers: Part 1

The boat neared a dock filled with teens, so I stashed my phone and earbuds into a tiny compartment in my suitcase/bag.

This is it!

I had wanted to make a good impression, so I curled my hair a bit and swiped on a lot of mascara. I was wearing a baggy Fall Out Boy band tee, blue denim cutoffs, tight black leggings, and my Converse. I was wearing a "This is "London!" punk baseball cap. Just my casual.

"Ah...and this is our last contestant, Ashlynn!" a voice rang from the dock. I assumed it would be Chris McLean, the host of this damned show.

I grabbed my suitcase, swung my laptop bag over my hip, then jumped onto the dock. 

"Hey, peeps!" I called, holding up a peace sign.

"Just great", a voice sighed, "Just another punk loser. Hey Sweetie, the pot is towards the back!" 

I scanned the crowd, searching for the voice of the speaker. I spotted a tall girl with dark hair and gray eyes, who stood filing her nails rather snobbily.

I walked over to her, with falsetto cheer in my swagger. I grabbed a fistful of her halter top, sneering.

"What was that, sweetheart?"

She narrowed her eyes, and I leaned in closer, glaring.

She gulped, but I detected a sense of hatred emanating from her glare. 

"Good!" I cried, releasing her.

"Ooh! The tension is alive! This'll be a good one!" Chris cackled.

I stalked over to a tall boy with bright blue eyes and a lime green mohawk. Wait...it couldn't be...

"Duncan!" I cried, shocked.

"The one and only," he smirked, winking.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"My parole officer sent me." he explained.

"That's why you were gone? You were in jail?"

"Juvie." he corrected, smiling slightly.

"Oh gosh..." I murmured, pressing a hand to my forehead. 

Duncan.....he was the one that helped me; after my fight with Grey.

-Flashback-

Crowds of punk looking kids were storming me when I finally returned from my suspension.  They were in awe of my sudden adrenaline rush of strength..even though I had lost the fight.

"Hey, can I have your autograph?"

"Can I be your friend?"

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

I shook my head to all those questions, trying to push myself away from the mob of awed teens. 

"Would you hit me that hard?" someone snickered, and I felt a surge of adrenaline course through my bones. I felt like doing something....illegal. 

I was about ready to start swinging fists, when one male's voice rang over the ruckus.

"Yo! Back the fuck off! Jeez, can't anyone get some space here?" The boy had bright turquoise eyes, piercings, a muscular build, and a lime green mohawk. I smiled gratefully, and he grabbed my wrist and yanked me out of the mob.

"Thank you so much!" I cried after the few stragglers left. 

"Yeah, no prob. Gotta get on a babe's good side, right?"