by SM Koz
“I thought everyone left me,” I replied, quickly wiping the tears from my face.
“You thought wrong.”
“Give me my pack.”
“You can barely carry it when we’re going slow. How are you going to carry it when we jog to catch up with the group?”
“I can do it,” I said, straightening my shoulders.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure you can,” he said, pushing me forward.
As much as I didn’t want to seem like a wuss, I was really grateful for his help, not that I’d ever let him know. I moved as quickly as I could on my injured feet, but it ended up being more half skipping, half speed-walking, rather than jogging.
“This pack has to weigh as much as you. Why’d you bring so much?” he asked casually.
I didn’t bother responding.
As we continued hiking, I couldn’t believe that Chris and Jason let us fall so far behind. After a few minutes, though, I realized that wasn’t really the case. When we turned a corner, Jason was standing there on the trail. I looked down the mountain and saw he had a direct view of my meltdown. Just great. I expected some sort of lecture from him, but he let us pass and then fell in line behind us. I guess I shouldn’t have been too surprised. Other than his name, he hadn’t said a word to us. It seemed like Chris was in charge and Jason was her silent sidekick.
Within half an hour, we caught up to the group. No one seemed to notice we were missing or that we’d rejoined them. Or maybe they were too afraid to say anything since we weren’t allowed to talk. Chris made it very clear that until she said otherwise, we could only address her, not each other. She also provided the one simple rule we were to adhere to: do whatever she said whenever she said it. Like we were in boot-camp or something. What was she going to do? Make us run laps if we didn’t listen to her? My blood boiled whenever I thought of the self-righteous way she spoke to us. She had another thing coming if she thought I’d just sit back and take her shit. Surely the others felt the same, unless they were too self-consumed by their own personal demons that were supposed to be exorcised by the get-back-to-nature therapy. The one good thing about this morning was that we got a little insight into what those demons might be while Chris ransacked our belongings.
She pulled each of us to the front of the room one by one with our things. Then, she went through each item. Illegal items were thrown into the trash, prohibited items were placed in a box we’d receive when the program was over, and all other items were added to a backpack. While I didn’t agree with the complete lack of privacy this process provided, it was probably the best way to get to know my fellow troublemakers. With each item that came out of someone’s bag, I felt like I was getting a glimpse inside his or her head. Since Chris had yet to provide names, I used this information to come up with appropriate nicknames to keep everyone straight.
The first guy up was average height and round with stringy brown hair hanging over the edges of his glasses. Chris pulled items out of his bag and quickly segregated them to the correct area. Handheld PlayStation, box of Moon Pies, and a phone to the confiscated box; a bunch of t-shirts and khaki hiking pants to his backpack. I was really confused as to why he was there—he didn’t seem to have any self-destructive habits or built-up rage; he was just a nerdy geek who liked junk food and video games. So, I named him Neeky and figured he would be absolutely no help in rebelling against Chris.
She then motioned to a tall, dark, lean, and muscular guy with an oversized t-shirt, baggy pants hanging halfway down his ass, and enough gold chains to cover tuition at most community colleges. He went to the front and she confiscated his chains, a pocketknife, some brass knuckles, and a phone. A bottle of Hennessy went into the trash. I named him Bling and struggled with conflicting thoughts on whether he might be useful in my fight against Chris or if he’d just end up killing me. In the end, I decided to watch him closely.
Then it was my turn. I wheeled my two suitcases to the front and stood with my arms crossed, head tilted, and foot tapping. Chris glanced at my foot and then asked for my left hand. I reluctantly held it out to her and she fingered the wide silver bracelet on my wrist. She turned my arm over, slid the bracelet up slightly, and then looked into my eyes.
“You can keep this,” she said, still holding my gaze. My anger blazed again. Of course I could keep it—it was my bracelet. She then opened my bags. Cigarettes were thrown out and a pocketknife, cuticle scissors, razor blades, and an iPhone were confiscated.
“You have a lot of clothes, makeup, and toiletries,” she said. “You might want to consider leaving some of this here so it doesn’t weigh you down.”
“Thanks for the suggestion,” I had replied with a smirk.
Now, after being out in the woods hiking for hours and developing blisters, I was annoyed and frustrated because Chris was right. I wasn’t able to carry my pack. I completely tore up my feet and hands and allowed another camper to see me crying when I tried to do it. Then he ended up carrying my pack and I looked weak and incapable.
I glanced behind me and said, “Give me my pack.”
Juicehead motioned with his eyes up to Chris at the front of the line. He was afraid to talk.
“Get real. You’re afraid of her? I haven’t listened to her all day and she hasn’t done anything to me. Now hand it over.” I stopped walking, put my hands on my hips, and blocked his way.
He smiled, shook his head no, and picked me up by the waist to move me to the side.
I clenched my fists and screamed in frustration. Nobody bothered to turn around and look. After a few moments, I realized I’d be left there with Jason if I didn’t catch up with the group. But, maybe that wasn’t so bad. I didn’t have any food, but surely Jason did. He wouldn’t let me starve. The only problem was I didn’t have my pack. That meant I didn’t have warm clothes. Or a tent. Or even shoes. “Dammit,” I said under my breath and hobbled along to catch up with everyone else.
I was behind Juicehead again and had to stare at his broad shoulders, bulging leg muscles, and dark curly hair that was only about an inch away from being an afro. I thought back to when Chris went through his things. I fully expected a bunch of steroids to be thrown out, but all she confiscated was a handful of condoms. Quite the Casanova, wasn’t he? Then it all made sense. That’s why he was carrying my pack—he thought he’d get lucky.
“You could be the last man in this forest and I wouldn’t do it with you!” I yelled ahead at the massive body in front of me.
Without turning around, he raised his arm and flipped me off. I was shocked. That was the first bit of emotion I had seen from anyone. Maybe he was the ticket to bringing down Chris.
We arrived at a clearing a couple hours later. The group was silent the whole time other than Neeky complaining that he was tired. I was grateful that someone else finally admitted the hike was getting to them. And that he disobeyed Chris’s no-talking rule. It was beginning to look like Neeky might be my kind of person after all.
Once we removed our packs, Chris informed us that was where we’d spend the next couple days so we should get comfortable. There was a locked storage container on the edge of the clearing that someone must have left earlier. She opened it up and pulled out a tent, which made me wonder what she was actually carrying in her pack.
After demonstrating how to pitch a tent, Chris told us each to set up our own.
I found a nice flat area and pulled mine out of my pack. I laid it out like Chris showed us and then hooked together one of the bungee cord rods. I slid it through the pockets on the side of the nylon and then pushed one end into the round eyelet. I moved to the opposite side and tried to bend the pole so it fed into the other eyelet, but even pushing as hard as I could, the pole barely bent and it was at least a foot from where it needed to be. I let go and walked around the tent, figuring something must be wrong. Chris looked like she was barely trying when she bent hers into place. Nothing seemed out of order so I tried again, but had the same result.
I stopped
and observed the others—all the guys had one pole in already and were working on the second. Mia seemed to be having the same problem as me, though. I watched as Neeky walked over to her and bent it into place. It must just be an issue of strength. I tried again, but when I got the pole to within inches of the eyelet, the other end popped out of place. I felt my blood pressure rise and suppressed the urge to tear the tent apart in a fit of rage. I was so not cut out for this wilderness shit.
At that point, my options were to either ask for help or try again. I didn’t want to embarrass myself once more by not being able to do something. With avoidance of embarrassment as my motivation, I decided to try the tent pole one more time. As I bent down to grab it, I had a great idea—I just needed some leverage. I moved the entire tent about five feet to the left so it was between two trees. On the far end, I placed the pole in the eyelet against the thick trunk of a tree. Then, I walked around to the other side and braced my feet against another large tree. From that position, I was able to apply significantly more pressure. It finally bent. With a grunt, I wedged the end into the eyelet and watched with satisfaction as the tent began to take shape. I couldn’t believe I actually did it. Feeling elated, I walked around the tent to admire my work. Then I saw Juicehead staring at me. His eyebrows were raised and he put his hands together in one of those uppity, polite half-claps, mocking me. I flipped him off this time and started on the second pole.
Once the tent was up, I crawled inside to organize my things. My toiletries went along the left side, my sleeping bag in the middle, and my clothes to the right. It’s amazing how therapeutic it could be to have a few comforts from home surrounding you after such a hellish day. I opened my compact, freshened up my powder, and applied some new lipstick. With the success of pitching my tent still fresh in my mind, I thought that the whole ordeal might not be so bad. Maybe I could do it after all. If I just focused on minor accomplishments, maybe that would be enough to keep me going.
Before I even had a chance to lie back on my sleeping bag, Chris banged on a metal pot telling us it was time for dinner. I contemplated staying where I was, but then a delicious aroma filled the air, causing my stomach to growl. I realized I was starving. Maybe Chris was right about that too; I should have had lunch earlier. I cringed at the thought of giving Chris any credit and reluctantly left my sanctuary.
The others were already sitting around the fire. I walked up quietly and sat between Neeky and Mia. Jason ladled out soup and placed it into small bowls for each of us. I grabbed mine and took a tentative taste, not expecting much, but it was surprisingly delicious—quite possibly the best soup I had ever had. I downed the entire bowl in minutes and helped myself to another.
After a few moments, Chris began talking to us.
“Congratulations. You hiked ten miles today. During that time, you had plenty of opportunity to reflect on your lives. What you’ve done up to this point. What you hope to do in the future. What you want out of this experience. I’d like for each of you to share one thing you thought about today.” She nodded to Juicehead sitting on her right. “You first.”
Without hesitation, he said, “I’m going to miss my family. That’ll be the worst part.” Then he dropped his eyes to the ground like he was embarrassed by what he said.
“Thank you. Next,” Chris said nodding to Mia.
“I think I want to be a fashion designer when I grow up.”
We continued going around the circle. Bling wanted to learn how to hunt and Neeky was excited about getting to know the rest of us. When it was my turn, Chris said, “We already know that you’ve torn up your feet, can’t carry your own pack, and wouldn’t sleep with Tyrell if he were the last man in the forest. Anything else you’d like to add?”
A couple people snickered. I was stunned. I had come to dinner feeling the best I had felt all day. I was proud of myself for getting the tent up and felt somewhat content after unpacking, but then Chris had to say that in front of everyone. Then, they laughed at me. I thought this was our touchy-feely session where we were supposed to open up to each other so we could rid ourselves of the demons that make us insufferable teens. Chris certainly didn’t make me feel comfortable sharing anything.
“No,” I replied, crossing my arms over my chest.
She then informed us that we were free to interact with each other, but everyone had to be in their own tents by ten-thirty. She also reminded us that we should make at least one entry into our journals each day, describing what we were feeling or what we wanted to accomplish.
I stayed at the fire and watched the others. Chris and Jason talked quietly as they rummaged through the storage bin. Bling went to his tent. Neeky and Mia were deep in a discussion. Juicehead lay back, resting his head on his hands and staring up at the sky. I suddenly felt very cold and very alone. I scooted closer to the fire, which heated my skin, but didn’t touch the deep-down chill I had in my bones. I had a feeling that would be with me until I got out of there.
“Mind if I sit down?”
I looked up to find Mia smiling at me.
“No,” I replied glumly.
“You hate it here, huh?”
“What gave that away?”
“Hey, I’m just trying to help, no need to get an attitude with me.”
I ignored her, so she continued, “I want to be here. I want to get better, but I know plenty of people are forced to come here.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me. I don’t need to get better.”
With a nod, she said, “I’m sure you’re completely well-adjusted. I’m sure whoever sent you here is terribly confused.”
At that point, I had had just about enough of Mia so I stood to leave. She grabbed my arm and said, “Sorry. If you really want to leave, I know how you can get kicked out.”
I paused and tried to take in what she was telling me. She knew a way for me to leave? A way for me to get back to my life in California? It almost sounded too good to be true.
I leaned in close so our faces were only inches apart. “How?”
“A friend of mine was here last year. She said that two people from her group got kicked out for having sex. Maybe one of the guys wants out as badly as you,” she said with a shrug and then scurried back to Neeky.
I sat down to fully grasp what Mia had said. There was a way out. I could actually be out of here in a matter of days. I just needed to plan it correctly. I thought about the three guys and decided that Neeky had probably never had sex, which would require way too much work on my part. Bling scared the hell out of me so he was out. That left Juicehead. But the question was, did Juicehead want out or not? If so, we could just stage everything to make Chris think we did it. If not, I’d need to seduce him.
I looked across the fire to see his face and then it hit me—Casanova, the condoms—it was almost too easy. He would totally be a willing, but unknowing accomplice in my farewell debauchery. It’s not like I wanted to trade my body for a plane ticket home, but with some careful planning, I figured I might not have to. I could get things started in a conspicuous place and then make sure Chris found us before it was too late.
I felt euphoric. I had a plan. A plan that I would implement the next night. I looked at the group and smiled, knowing this might be the last evening I spent with them.
Chapter 3: August 24
The scratch of a pencil against paper brings me back to the moment. Marta is scribbling something on her crossword puzzle.
I sigh, remembering how angry I was the first few days of the trip. I couldn’t believe that Sheila, my bitch of a stepmom, had shipped me there. I’m a girly-girl, not the camping, hiking, X Games type of girl who could handle living in the woods for a month. I’m not sure why she thought that would solve my problems. Or maybe it was just her way to get me out of her hair. I bet she’s regretting that decision after everything that’s happened. No doubt she’s already scouring the internet, looking for somewhere else she can send me. No other place will have JC, though. He was the only t
hing that made my time there bearable.
I return to his journal and read the next entry.
Day 2: Today was interesting. Malibu Barbie, who I promised to call Mal from now on, is proving that first impressions may not always be correct. Turns out she has much more fortitude than I imagined after her spoiled-brat, woe-is-me performance yesterday. Neeky, on the other hand, may have just found himself a ride home. Hopefully, he’s not here by order of the court like me or he’ll be totally screwed.
“Holy shit.”
“Señorita Kelsie?” Marta asks from her perch on a stool at the kitchen island.
“JC had a court order to be there.”
“Why?”
I shrug because he never told me. After everything that happened, I have a couple ideas of what it could be, but they would just be guesses. In general, he was by far a better person than me. I knew that by Day Two.
Chapter 4: July 19 (Day 2)
I awoke to Chris yelling for everyone to get up and select their chores for the day. Hauling my camping pillow over my head, I tried to muffle the sound of her voice. Even with my ears buried in fabric, I heard zippers being pulled all around me as the others exited their tents. After a few minutes, I heard a much closer zipper.
“Kelsie, time to get up.”
I moved the pillow and tilted my head toward my feet, cracking one eye. Chris was kneeling in my tent, looking down at me with her trademark smile.
“In a few minutes,” I replied and rolled to my side.
She nodded and left without another word. I lay silently in my sleeping bag wondering again why she never engaged me in a fight. I pushed back once more, and once more she smiled like it didn’t matter to her one way or the other. It didn’t make sense. Chris was there to make us upstanding teenagers, but she didn’t seem to know how to deal with me at all. I figured maybe I was more than she was used to. That thought brought a grin to my face.