FULL OBLITERATION (Book #3)

𝕹𝖎𝖓𝖊

It was just as awkward as I imagined it to be. When I went to swap seats, Carmen and I merely traded the sounds of us clearing our throats. It was a tight squeeze and the way she had to brush against my body to get past me... I mean, she's sitting with my crush, but my crush is sitting with Carmen Valentina. One is the cake and the other is a cherry on top. I can't win. And let's not forget the last thing I was doing right before we jumped.

"Lol," Ella smiles. "What was that about?"

"I mean," I sit down, trying to find some reasonable explanation, "considering we never really liked Carmen, it's quite strange being friends with her now, don't you think?"

"I've never not not liked Carmen," Ella affirms.

"I could never see you not not like anyone."

"I did not like you... One time..." Ella cringes. "Sorry, didn't mean to bring it up."

"No, it's fine," I shrug it off. "I did sound like a lunatic – whole nother dimension with zombies, like pfft."

"Yeah, but lives were at stake and I should've believed you sooner."

"Noted," I nod. "Anyways, how'd your exams go?" I change the subject. "I reckon I did pre' okay."

"Pre' okay too. How about Bray?"

I cringe, "he told me that he had to 'eeny, meeny, miny, moe' most of the multiple choice questions, but other than that, he did pre' good too."

Ella giggles.

And her smile makes me smile.

❖

We're finally here at Sanctuary Lakes. It's not that bad honestly. There are plenty of trees around us, dirt pathways, and cabins. Currently, we're in an open space with a huge lake in the distance.

"We're the seniors now," Bray grins, he drops his duffle bag down and the dirt particles erupt with it. "Not letting anyone push us into the mud again."

"Bet."

The camp instructor is waiting for us to quiet down in her khaki overalls. Her wine-red hair is done up real high and she's got bright red lipstick on. She holds a pointer in her hand, smiling.

"Who's Mum is that?" Bray whispers, a lil too keen.

"I hope the journey to Sanctuary Lakes was kind to you," she greets us all. "I'll be your camp instructor for the next 8 weeks. You may address me as the 'instructor'. Ground rules: 9 to 9 roll calls, separate quarters for males and females, and you must participate in every activity. Only supervisors carry keycards to get you in and out of places. Any questions?"

"What if we don't wanna do no scouting activities and sell cookies, Ms?" Sam questions.

The instructor raises her eyebrows at his last syllable.

"Instructor, my bad," he corrects, clearing his throat.

"Failure to adhere to any of these regulations may jeopardise your graduation, i.e. you will repeat year 12."

Heck no.

"Truancy is the number one cause of why most of yous were put on this list," Hélène inputs, "so I suggest you put in the work in these practical activities and prove to us you're ready for the real world."

"That is correct, playing truant amongst tardiness, and impudence will not be tolerated," the instructor uses words I don't even know. "Now, myself, Hélène – who's also on your school's committee, along with those folks there," the instructor uses her pointer, "we're your supervisors."