There's Something About Juvie

That's Off The Chain!

I slip the spoon around in the bowl of bleached-white paste. 

"Stupid Duncan. Stupid guys. Stupid alliance. Stupid Heather." I curse, stabbing at the paste in anger. My spoon slips off it, then goes flying to the floor. I bend down to pick it up, but DJ has already beat me to it. Our hands slide together in our efforts to pick it up. He shoots a glance at me.

"Hiding anything?" I ask in a hushed whisper. His face seems to blanch.

"N-no. Wh-why w-would y-y-you think th-that?" he stutters.

I smirk. "So there is something." I say slyly, knowing full well what that "something" is.

"N-no. N-n-nothing. I sw-swear."

"Oh c'mon, DJ. You know you can trust me."

His lip quivers. "Duncan made me promise not to tell anybody."

"Ok, fine. I'll save the suffering for you. Could it perhaps be the guy's alliance you guys think you oh so sneakily planned?"

"Wh-what? That's c-c-crazy!" he screams, then bumps his head under the table. He scoots off his seat, then goes running out of the building.

"Morning, campers! Meet at the Arts and Crafts center for your next challenge!"

We shuffle over to the shed, where Chris stands with his arms crossed.

"This place used to be an outhouse, but now it is where Chef stores his road hog."

He kicked down  the door, revealing a sick-ass ride.

I drooled. "Damnn..." I groaned.

"Today, you will be making your own rides, using the parts provided. The best design wins!" he said, rolling away on his four-wheeler.

I rubbed my hands together. Jaxon used to work part-time at a bike shop. I always got my bike fixed there, and he would always show me how. This should be a piece of cake.

Ten minutes later, I'm still struggling with attaching the seat with the bike.

"What the hell?" I say, trying desperately to glue it together.

"Allow me, Princess." Duncan says from behind. Within minutes, the whole bike is put together. 

"Uh..."

"A thank you would be nice." he prompts.

"Thanks." I say stiffly, crossing my arms.

"Your welcome, Princess." he says, relishing in the fact that I am in his mercy.

He bops my nose, and I recoil. He just laughs, then walks away.

After the assembly of the bike is finally finished, I start decorating. I get black and green spray paint, cardboard, and lots of multi-color string  to tie in the spokes.

After drenching the bike in spray paint, adding on small cardboard skulls to the sides of the handlebars, and tying in the spokes, the bike looks great. Yet, it still needs something.

I get an idea. I cut out a little piece of cardboard, paint it to the necessary pattern, then glue it on top. 

Chris will love it.

"Campers! Time to judge your bikes!" yells Chris from the PA.

He moves between the bikes, sometimes shaking his head or nodding. And then his eyes land on mine.

"This is just too much!" he swells, his eyes shining.

The little piece of cardboard was just a small painting of him, but I figured it would be worth a  shot.