Father Calloway's Retreat For Misguided Adolescents

Showers, Simpering Susan and Sneaky Sneaking Sneaks

Her feet had blisters on them. Like, all over them. Everywhere. And they hurt! That’s the last time she was wearing those heels. Lifting her extreme bedhead up, she rubbed her bleary eyes open. Wincing at the light, she closed them again. There was too much light in her room. Also her heels had been stolen the night before.

Groaning, Mary threw her head back onto her pillow, but instead of doing it gracefully, she whacked her forehead on the corner of her bed. Now fully awake and a head with a large, slowly developing purple bruise on it, Mary hauled herself into a sitting position. Hissing as her feet touched the cold tiles, she grabbed a towel and a hoodie, then after jamming her painful red feet into a pair of muddy converse, she ventured into the woods, in a hopeful search for any semblance of a shower block.

After about 15minutes of slow ambling along what seemed to be a woodland path, Mary reached signs of civilization, namely a row of small shacks, one which had a small crucifix nailed to the outside and the word ‘SHOWER’ scrawled on the outside in drippy brushstrokes.

Well I’ve come to the right place then. Mary 1 The woods 0.

Then she thought about the unfortunate meeting of He-who-must-not-be-named-and-is-apparently-much-worse-than-voldemort-Noah-Calloway and decided maybe the woods were winning after all.

Turning her attention back tot the shower block and the prospect of having a warm shower, Mary all but ran inside. After having stood under the warm, if not slightly murky looking (and smelling suspiciously like holy) water, for at least 20 minutes she turned it off and got back into her pyjama and hoodie combo that she rocked on the way there.

Just as she was about to leave the shack, she heard voices. After a quick look in the small mirror hung on the end wall, and realising that you actually couldn’t see her face because of the monstrosity that was her hair, she decided she was going to have to hide. No, she wanted to leave a good first impression on these hooligans, not have her first meeting to be with her in her pyjamas and her hair looking like an overgrown orang-utan who’d been up partying the night before and had fell asleep licking a battery. So, she slipped behind the shack.

“-it’s not even that hard H, I just want to know if you’ve heard about her.” Mary heard the end of the sentence. It was spoken in protest, with a voice that sounded strangely familiar, like she’d heard it in a dream…

“No, I haven’t heard anything about her, the only new girl I’ve met is Mary, and I can’t imagine she’d be weird enough to know a whole 1940s dance.” Mary recognised the voice as Henri, and while mentally awww-ing at her protection of Mary’s sanity, her mind was still being niggled by the other voice. Then she remembered. Oh God, its party boy. It’s the boy who she’d danced with. What was his name again?

“Jude.” That was it, Jude. Wait…ohmygoshpleasedonttellme…… “I’m sorry, I haven’t heard of any new girl called Clementine, or whatever, just Mary.”

“Clementina.” Jude corrected, “And you must be wrong, I just danced with her last night. It was pretty darn amazing too, though when she left she was sort of…weird. But she was cool. And hot. And knew the song. That’s 3 ticks.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever prince charming, I get it. She ran away as the clock struck 12 only leaving behind her glass slippers and you sighing like the 12 year old girl that you really are. Let it go, Jude.” Henri then started to belt out frozen obnoxiously, until Jude’s shouts of protests drowned out the awful, off-key singing.

“Come on, go get showered and I’ll meet you for breakfast.” Jude finally said, and Henri shut up, leaving Mary with only the sound of her own breathing, the shack door slamming and the general nature noises that surrounded the vicinity.

Oh god, she knew she was stupid, but really, she’d done this?!? Now, an incredibly attractive boy with incredible music taste and dance skills thought she was someone completely different, and the aforementioned boy also happened to be friends with the girl she was sharing a room with and knew her real name!

Why? Why do you do these things to yourself? He’s going to either recognise you at breakfast, or you’re going to have to never sit with them again…and not join in any group activities…or leave your cabin. You might as well become a nun; at least it would hide your identity a little!

Her inner voice scolded her. She was too preoccupied to register a twig snap behind her, or quiet footsteps coming up behind her from the woods, towards where she was still hidden behind the shower shacks. Only when she felt warm breath on her neck did she jump and turn around, muffling a shriek with her hand. “Holy Chr-!”

“Tut tut, Mary Freeman, watch the language. That’s blasphemy, don’t you know?” There he was, the Lord Voldemort of the woods, Noah Calloway, standing there in his dark, brooding, irritatingly sexy way, with his hair still damp from the shower and sending drops of water down past his dark eyes….

Snap out of it Mary, you don’t know what this guy did to get here, but it’s probably scary. He might have killed someone. Everyone’s terrified of him. His family made a whole camp for ‘Misguided adolescents’, maybe he was the first. Maybe he’s the reason there is a camp at all. Maybe it’s instead of life imprisonment. Maybe it’s instead of a life on the run from the law. Maybe…

“-don’t you think?” Oh Holy Crab Sticks, he’d been talking while she’d been off in lala land. Has she not learnt anything from fictional girls who do this? Well, Mary Clementina Freeman does not get flustered in front of incredibly good looking guys, its something that she had built up from being around Jesse for long. Don’t be a simpering Susan, Jesse had instructed her (She didn’t know who Susan was, but she sounded stupid). 

“Look, I don’t really know who you are, Noah Calloway,” she spat out his name “but I don’t like you. I don’t know why everyone is afraid of you, I don’t know if you killed babies for fun, or ran over old ladies, or dealt drugs at the age of 7, but you don’t seem like a very nice guy, with all your sneaky sneaking around in the woods like-like a- like a sneak! So, I would very much appreciate it, if you left me alone.” Not quite as eloquent as she’d hoped, but it would do, she looked up at his reaction. His eyes held half amusement – probably at her overuse of the word sneak – and half in puzzlement and confusion. Mary wasn’t surprised; it was probably a long time since anyone had actually stood up to him.

“Well then, I best let you get on with your – whatever you’re doing behind the showers – and I’ll get back to my, what was it? Oh yes “sneaky sneaking like a sneak”. See you around, Mary Freeman.” And with one last crooked smirk, Noah Calloway turned on his heel and walked back into the darkening woods, almost immediately being consumed by the shadow.

God what does that boy eat for breakfast: cornflakes with an extra serving of arrogance, mystery and general good looks? Talking of breakfast I swear there was something I was worrying about…Oh Jesus Christ on a tandem. How on earth am I going to survive this camp if taking a shower almost gives me a heart failure and breakfast is going to involve a lot more drama? Well done Mary, you’ve really outdone yourself this time.