Delinquent Camp

Prologue

Author's Note:

1. There will be language, mild violence and also possible use (for sure references) to alcohol and drugs

2. The main character's name is Gemma. Pronounced Jem-a

3. Another character's name is Rhyson. Pronounced Rie-son

Hope that cleared some things up ahead of time :)

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Prologue

“Gemma, can you come down here please?” My step-monster’s sickly sweet voice calls up the spiral stairs to me. My teeth instantly clench together. She’s faking nice which I’ve grown to learn in the past three years means that she’s up to something. However I already know that it doesn’t matter what it is because regardless, it’s going to be very, very bad for me.

I climb off my purple comforter and head for the hallway, rolling my eyes as she calls my name again. Ever since my father married Kirsten, she’s been jealous of me. In my dad’s eyes, I’m his number one priority, but because Kirsten can’t stand that, she’s been trying to get rid of me since day one. I wonder what it is this time.

“What is it?” I snap, walking down the fancy, black spiral staircase past all the family photos and specifically selected art my dad had bought. When I turn for the last time, I stop in my tracks, seeing a woman and a man standing with my parents, smiling up at me nicely. Too nicely. “Hi…” I mumble, looking them over.

The woman’s brown hair is tied up in a neat bun, no strands even daring to move out of place or fall onto her black glasses. She’s dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a simple pink blouse, holding her clipboard tightly to her chest.

“Hello, Gemma,” she smiles. “Shall we sit down and talk?” She gestures over to the large living room and I stare at my father cautiously.

“What’s going on?”

“We’ll explain in there,” the man says, turning my attention towards him. He rolls up the sleeves of his red shirt and gestures towards the room, just like the woman had.

Slowly, I take the final steps down the staircase and stick close to my dad as we head into the living room.

“What’s going on?” I whisper, quiet enough for only him to hear.

“It’s for the best, Gemma,” he responds, loud enough for everyone to know we’re talking. Rolling my eyes, I sit down on one of the large, comfy, beige couches and cross my legs, staring at the man and woman who sit in chairs in front of me. Someone must have dragged them in here earlier from the dining room specifically for this event.

“Shall we get started?” Kirsten clasps her hands together and grins, but nothing about it is pleasant. When I shoot her a glare, it only grows as she finger-combs her shoulder-length blonde hair.

“You’re parents brought us here today-“ The woman starts, but I cut her off.

“She’s not my parent,” I snap, pointing a finger at Kirsten. “If this is some kind of investigation, you might as well take her away right now.”

The woman’s smile wavers but the man quickly starts talking to make up for her. “Well, regardless, they both brought us here because they are concerned about you, Gemma.”

I roll my eyes and fold my arms across my chest. “Concerned about what? I’m perfectly fine.”

“No, you’re not,” snaps Kirsten, leaning forward in her Lazy-Boy. “You need help!”

“What she means,” the woman starts, meeting my gaze. “Is that you’re going through some issues and she and your father don’t know how to help you through them.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Issues?”

“You’re out of control, Gemma,” my dad says softly, holding my hand beside me. He stares down at me with tears in his blue eyes. My whole life I’ve looked up to my father, with his everything-is-okay expression. Not until now have I ever seen him cry. “You don’t listen to anyone, even the police. You’re anorexic, have anger issues and you refuse to get help!” He raises his voice but quickly lowers it, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I don’t know how to help you,” he whispers, looking at me with uncertainty.

I tear my eyes away from him and rip my hand out of his grasp. Staring down at myself, I shake my head. This can’t be happening.

“This is why we’re here.” The woman gives me a small smile. “I’m Doreen and this is Michael,” she says, gesturing to the man beside her. “We’re here to take you to Safe Haven, a summer camp for troubled teens.”

My head instantly snaps up and my mouth falls open. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Kirsten grinning. I quickly jump to my feet, anger boiling up inside of me along with the anxious feeling that I try to ignore.

“You’re sending me to a camp?” I yell, staring down at my dad. My hands clench into fists as he refuses to meet my eyes. “Dad, you can’t do this to me!” I feel upset and angry tears spill over my eyes as I look at him. He stares straight ahead at the wall, giving me my fate.

Something goes off inside of me, like making a spark in a room full of gasoline. In a moment, I’m lunging towards Kirsten screaming at her.

“This is all your fault!” I scream. I feel Michael’s strong arms restraining me, pulling me back from Kirsten as she jumps to her feet. “You just want me gone so you can have my dad all to yourself!”

She shakes her head with downcast eyes. I watch her cover her mouth with her palm, pretending to cry but I can see the corner of her lips curled up in a sadistic smile. She’s won and she knows it. I’m gone only for the summer, but knowing her, she’s making arrangements to make sure I never come back.

“Gemma, they’re only doing this because they care,” Michael assures me, moving me towards the door. I continue to struggle, wanting to claw Kirsten’s eyes out and hug my dad sobbing. But neither of them moves to follow me out other than Doreen.

“Dad!” I scream, as I grip the trim on the front door. Michael picks me up so my feet don’t touch the ground as Doreen tries to loosen my grip. “Don’t let them do this to me!”

He doesn’t respond as I’m wretched out of the house and towards the pale blue van waiting outside. Michael doesn’t put me down until we reach the car, not even letting me touch the pavement. Instead he seats me in the backseat where Doreen climbs in beside me.

“This is for the best, Gemma,” Michael says, holding the sliding door as he speaks to me. “We’re going to help you.”

Narrowing my eyes, I kick him in the balls before he slams the door shut.