Boot Camp

Boot Camp [ 1 ]

My name is Lane Daniels. I'm seventeen years old. I haven't seen or talked to my family or my friends in almost five years. I've never had a boyfriend. I have scars on my back. The ring finger on my left hand is crooked because they made me work while it was broken without letting it set correctly. My parents sent me here. They're happy I'm gone. I'm in a boot camp for delinquents. Except I'm not one.

Ryan Brooks

"I am very disappointed in you!" Yeah, I haven't heard that one before. "I just... I can't.. Ugh!" Mom's crying. Of course she is. It's my fault. Of course it is. "I just don't know what to do anymore, Ryan." I gripped the steering wheel with one hand as we began to drift onto the other side of the road.

"It'd be nice if you could watch where you're driving. We don't need to end up dead." I spit. It only made her cry even more.

"You're father would kill you right now if he was here, so be thankful he isn't." Mom's lips quivered.

"Yes, Mom. I'll be thankful that he's over fighting to the death. I'm so thankful that he's risking his life everyday and I'll probably never see him again. He probably won't make it to graduation. I don't mind though. Sounds like he's living the life over there!" I cross my arms and look out the window.

Dad is a touchy subject. Mom knows that. She's pulling the Dad Card because she knows it'll make me break. "I don't need you telling me that you're dissapointed. I get it. I know you are. I just honestly don't care."

"You're throwing your life away."

"I'm doing what I want."

"Shop-lifting is illegal, Ryan James!"

"Oh!" I smirk. "Pulling out the middle name. Damn, I'm in some trouble."

Silence. I liked it that way. I don't need Mom telling me what I already know. Shop-lifting is illegal? No shit, Sherlock.

"Ever since --"

I cut her off. "Yes, Mom. Ever since. You tell me this story everytime something happens and I'm just going to ignore you like I do every single god-damn time."

"I've talked to Janice." She stated, wiping under her eyes. Giant black smudges made their way down her cheeks. "She gave me the number for Goodwin's."

My muscles tensed. Wide eyes grew wide. Then I calmed again. I laughed. "Good joke, Ma. Really. You really had me thinking you were serious." I shook my head, looking outside again.

"No joking, Ryan. Your things are already packed. Your flight leaves nine tomorrow morning." She turned down our street. The street lamps lit her face, the streams of tears glistening. More tears filled her eyes.

She wasn't joking. I'm going to Goodwin Boot Camp. For Delinquints.

"I... I can't believe you would do this to me! After what happened with Janice and Parker. You know that they haven't --"

"Ryan, I know this is going to be hard, but --"

"It's going to be so much harder than you think! Do you know how this is going to affect me?" I screamed as we pulled into the driveway. She turned off the car. We sat still.

"You're not being a good influence for David."

"David doesn't pay attention to me! He knows I'm a complete idiot. He doesn't care about me, so it doesn't matter!" I ripped my hands through my small, tight, brunette curls. "Why are you doing this to me?" My voice broke.

"This will be good for you, Ry." She played with her hands in her lap. "It's going to set you straight."

"Set me straight? She hasn't come back yet! You think that freaking camp is setting her straight? I don't think so! She'd be back by now! It's been five years, Ma!"

She unlocked the doors. "You'll be home once you learn to be more mature. Once you learn what's wrong from what's right. You'll be home as soon as you want to be home." She opened her door and stepped outside. "We have to be at the airport a whole hour before your flight. Be awake by seven."

Door closes, interior lights go off. I'm left sitting in the car, not wanting to go inside and face reality that I'd be leaving for that God forsaken camp tomorrow. Not wanting to go inside and get bashed on by my little brother because I'm crying like a little girl.

I fell asleep in the middle of lunch today. That earned me four smacks with with a stick across my palms. They're red, raw. It's making work so much more difficult. I've lost my green shirt. I'm back to blue.

I was on my plane by 9:05 and I landed on some distant island almost three hours later. Mom dropped me off at the airport, David straggled along behind her. He looked up at me, and I looked down at him, and for the first time in I don't know how long he smiled at me. "Come back soon. Maybe you'll finally teach my how to do that trick on my skateboard."

I shook my head. "See ya, kid." I ruffled his hair and turned to Mom. She was crying again. She took my face in her hands and then kissed my forehead. When I turned to board the plane, I wiped the place where she kissed me, as if it could make it never happen. She was sending me here. This was her fault.

After my flight, I was met by a guy who looked like he had a pole stuck up his ass.

"Ryan Brooks."

"Yeah." I mutter. The man standing in front of me was wearing camo pants, a grey t-shirt. His knuckles were wrapped in gauze. I brought my gaze back up to his face.

"Follow me." He says, grabbing me by my collar. I struggle under his grip.

"You told me to follow, you asshat." I spit.

In under a minute I was thrown to the floor, his thick combat boot was definitely going to leave marks on my neck, which is where it was currently resting. He chuckled as he lifted his foot from my flesh and then pulled me up by my hair. He smiled. "Welcome to Goodwin, Brooks."

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