Hooligans Camp

Chapter 3

Levi's POV:

Another day in the courtroom.

Sometimes I wonder, what did I do to deserve all of this?

Sure, I'm not the best student or even person.
But, does that make me a murderer, for god's sake?

"Mister Allen, do you ratify the offer?" the judge interrogates me.

Offer?

"What..t offer, your honor?" I stammer.

"Have you not been listening!?" my mom, whose sitting right next to me, demands in a low voice.

"I usually don't like repeating myself, Mister Allen. However, for some incentive, I feel the urge to be tolerant today, " the judge admits.

My mom nudges me, "Thank you, your honor, " I say with no emotion.

"You, Mister Allen, have a decision to formulate. You can either maintain asserting that you are not at guilt, meaning this case will not be closed and will fulfill being examined. Or you can admit that you're at fault and your penalty will be reasonably manageable for your age, " the judge explains briefly.

The choice should be hard.

But it isn't.

"I am guilty, " I announce, hearing the crowd of people gasp at my declaration.

"No, your honor he-" my mom is cut off by the judge.

"You will attend a summer camp, " the judge states.

That's it?

That's all I get for 'murdering' someone?

"I don't understand, your honor, " I bid, my expression bewildered.

"It is a summer camp for hooligans which means, violent young troublemakers. You will conceivably be the worst scholar there. However, it isn't quite that challenging or difficult for a sixteen-year-old. Of course, that won't be the verge of it. Depending on how you behave in your two summers at the camp. We will decide, once you turn eighteen, whether or not you should continue your life in juvenile followed by prison, " she adds.

That's it?

That's all I get for 'murdering' someone?

"Case dismissed, " the judge states before banging the gavel.

"Your honor, I still don't understand," I repeat once everyone is out of the courtroom.

"We don't have evidence linking you to the death," she explains briefly.

She doesn't and she won't.

...

"Why would you say that!?" my mom urges once we are in her car.

"Because I'm so f*cking tired of having to live like this. At this point, anything is better than having to go to the courtroom every day for killing someone I've never even heard of!" I yell.

"I'm sorry, " I mutter directly after noting how dramatic I sound.

"It's okay, honey. I understand that you are stressed, " my mom whispers calmly.

"I'm just confused, " I grumble looking out the window.

"It will all work out. All you have to do now is attend that summer camp and be at your best behavior, " she instructs.