Camp SAGA

Welcome To Camp S.A.G.A

Lance hesitated. There were only three steps to get from the bus to the ground, but his knees shook so hard he wasn’t sure he’d make it and not just from the cold February wind. He jumped hearing the man waiting for him and the others just outside call them out.

“Today, today, we need to get going!” He had an accent, but his voice was hard and a little scary.

He felt a small nudge behind him and stepped down, direct sunlight just touching the tops of his shoes. The ground felt firm beneath his feet and Lance was surprised to see that man waiting for them had an appearance that didn’t fit his cold voice. A big, almost comical mustache, soft eyes, and an odd outfit; overall, not what Lance would have pictured for someone who would dole out conversion therapy to the kids following him off the bus.

“My name is Coran. If you could all just line up in rows parallel to this bus, 16 and older in one line, everyone else in the other, we can get this squared away.” Lance looked around him to see most of the kids there were probably right on the cusp of that age division; he knew the person he’d been sitting next to on the bus, Pidge, couldn’t have been more than 15. Too young to be here, all of them were.

The bus pulled away and Coran took a deep breath as he watched it pull away. When he turned around, Lance almost jumped backwards. He smiled warmly at them, like he wasn’t ripping them out of their homes against their will. Well, their families were helping with that, so it wasn’t completely his fault.

“Well, now that the outsiders are gone, I’ll start on the list.” Coran pulled out a small notepad and pen. “Preferred name, preferred pronouns, and reason you’re here?” He said, looking at Lance, pen at the ready.

He blinked. “What?”

“You’re here because your family sent you here to be ‘fixed’, right? Well, we don’t believe you need to be.” Coran said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We want to help you, not break you.”

Lance still hesitated, but figured it was his job as one of the oldest here to keep tensions low and off the others. “Lance McClain, he or him, and I’m bi.”

Coran jotted it down and smiled again. “Climb into the new bus, if you will.”

“And... where is that again?”

“Right, I parked it away, one second.” He ran off around a line of trees without another word.

“How far do you think we could run?” Pidge asked from a few people behind him in the second line.

“I think that would just make it worse.” Lance sighed. The sound of a car starting up ripped through the morning and followed Coran back around the corner. “And to answer the question, not very far.”

The Camp S.A.G.A bus was big and creaky and the leather seats were mostly worn down or ripped, the air was thick and humid and it looked like one of the emergency doors was bent just enough to pop open if they hit a pothole straight on. The angry sounding beast lurched to a stop and it looked like one of the wheels was about to give way once Coran got out. Totally safe.

Lance debated trying to run away anyways--he had $20 hidden in the case of his phone, how far would that take him in a cab or bus?--but he realized that no matter what happened, people were going to be like his family anywhere he went. They’d shun him, refuse him a job, refuse him housing, refuse him basic human decency. As he climbed into the bus, trying to find a seat that wasn’t ripped, Coran continued with his list. The names of his fellow “campers” floated through the open bus doors, and Lance tried putting faces to the ones he heard. A young girl named Emma who was sent here just before turning 16 for kissing her friend at a party. A boy, older than Lance, was transgender and gave both his birth name, Abby, and real name, Alex. Sophia, Nick, Emily, Ricky, Jacob, Jose, Amelia, Ross, May, Hannah, Leelah, Jordan, Pidge (whose birth name was Katie, so he couldn't tell where Pidge had come from), there were so many kids, Lance wanted to punch something.