Turner's Camp For Troubled Teens

Chapter 12: Prisoner To Dirty Cop To Warden

Rory

She was moving out.

There was no point sticking around, Rory decided. Waiting until she had enough money for the first few months rent was useless, considering she didn't have a job aside from occasionally beating people up for cash, back in Cairns. She had had jobs before, of course. If dealing drugs and blackmailing people counted as a job... Which, according to the cops, it probably didn't. The only real job Rory had ever had was working at a hardware store... And look how that turned out.

She had two-thousand dollars locked tightly in a bank account, given to her by her mother on her tenth birthday and hopefully not taken back. It wasn't much, and she had wanted to spend it on something cool, like put it together for a new car or even fixing up her old camaro, but if it had to be spent on getting her out of the house and living decently until she got a job, then so be it.

When camp ended, Rory was leaving. She was catching the bus back to the station, where her car sat in the car park waiting patiently for her. Then, she would be on the road back to Queensland to make one last visit to her father. Probably to punch him in the face. She'd grab her shit, and then it would just be her and her car. She knew there were better ways of living. She knew the most logical conclusion was to stay with her father for a few more months. But Rory wasn't sure if she could handle another day underneath that roof, let alone months. Besides, he'd demand cash. Payment. Rent. Which was perfectly reasonable, of course, but if Trent was deciding the price... Well, then, Rory would have lost all her saved cash within a week.

There were two reasons why Rory hadn't already left Turner's Camp For Troubled Teens and hitchhiked back. One of these reasons was the fact she had signed a contract and actually couldn't legally leave the camp unless let out early by Turner himself. It was, after all, practically a punishment and a substitute for juvie. Running away would result in cops, court, and probably even jail. Rory was a bad kid, but what had happened wasn't her fault. She hadn't started that fire... Well she had, it was her cigarette, but it was Rochelle's fault. Not hers.

The other, more important reason was the brown haired girl who walked with her head held high, as if she still held the glittering crown. Roxanne Farings was gorgeous in every way, and Rory... Well, Rory was feeling things she had never felt before.

Rory let Roxanne caress her hand, which was a nice gesture when the strange look on Roxy's face was ignored. Without questioning her, Rory then let her pass, and listened to the door close quietly behind her.

As much as Rory wanted to stick around and find out what was going on, why Roxy had entered Turner's office with a strangely blank look on her face, she had a group therapy session in twelve minutes. And the last time she was late, she had to name her feelings in front of everybody. Therapy was a fucking joke. Humiliation, more like.

Even though Rory was extremely vocal about thinking it was stupid, it was a compulsory activity. So Rory made her way to her session and sat down surrounded by other troubled teens, and got taught how to calmly breathe by some hippie who peaked in her teens ("From the chest, darling, the chest."). She spent an hour with her pool, then another half in the mess hall, trying to push her way through the crowd of people to find a fucking table. After too long without seeing Roxy, Rory finally arrived at their shared cabin to find the girl sitting on the bed, wearing one of Rory's shirts and still reading How To Kill A Mockingbird.

"Hey, babe," Rory said after tossing her jacket onto the bed and closing the door. "What did you talk to Turner about? Is he the guy you sacrifice campers to? You know, so he can stay on earth and keep torturing us? Oh, wait, does he pay you in new knitting needles?"