by Amanda Adair
I decide to leave the library. It’s after nine pm. That should be late enough. I’ll just tell my Dad it’s been a long day. We all have school tomorrow, so we can’t party all night long on a weekday. I put the book back where I found it. While walking home I recap today.
I went to school. It’s been a regular Tuesday. I was insulted in math, English and chemistry. Penelope pulled back my chair when I wanted to sit down in the lab. I fell on the ground and instead of helping me everybody was laughing at me. It’s always the same pattern. Nobody really cared that it’s my birthday. I brought a cake, not because I wanted to but because I had to. They would find out it’s my birthday anyway. We have a calendar for that, online. They started using Microsoft Teams for communication last year. It’s sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? Good old Maywood, the smallest town on earth, started taking part in the digital change. It’s so the students can exchange information and not be rude to each other. Cyber bullying is on the radar of most principals since Thirteen Reasons Why became so popular on Netflix. They try to make communication transparent. Instead of posting photos, like the one of me with a hand on my breast, on there, for school officials to see and punish, they post them elsewhere. I couldn’t find out where exactly. It must be private chats. They’re not that stupid. They know it’s punishable to cyber bully others. What they do goes unnoticed.
They all grabbed a piece of cake, but no one bothered to wish me a happy birthday. They know I have nobody to celebrate with. As I keep saying, Maywood’s tiny. I remember Piper’s seventeenth birthday last year. She’s one year older than most of us, so are Penelope, Cora and Axel. They all turned seventeen last year. Piper’s would-be self-made muffins disappeared as fast as my cake. She was buried with best wishes, presents, happy birthday cards and hugs. I wasn’t. They all went to her birthday party that afternoon. I didn’t. I wasn’t invited. And I don’t have anybody to invite myself.
40
“You think you’re an actress, huh?,” Melissa teases me. She found my profile on the website of the acting camp I went to.
“For some cheap porn maybe,” Piper adds and turns towards me. “You know you’re a slut, right?”
“The porn star name generator says Samantha’s name’s Sandy Sinn,” Tammy says, staring at her phone.
“Yours would be just Tammy,” I counter her verbal attack and look at my paper. I’m surprised I can be that quick-witted.
“Shut up,” she says and gives me an angry look.
We’re sitting at a group table. Piper, Penelope, Tammy, Nora, Alanna and me. Nora sits next to me. Of course, she didn’t want to. Ms. Downing decided to rearrange the seating plan. Group tables would make us more cooperative and productive, she said. She gave us two assignment sheets to work on.
“Let’s just focus on the assignments,” Alanna says. Alanna is one of few who didn’t say anything mean to me. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t judge me. She may not insult me, but she also never defends me. No one does.
“Look,” Penelope says and holds her phone in front of Piper’s face.
“Funny,” she says and laughs.
I assume it’s TikTok. They spend a lot of time with that app. I only know that because some weeks ago they filmed a video during lunchtime at the cafeteria. They danced around and shook their asses. The teacher who saw it wasn’t too happy. For once someone actually stopped them, or at least tried to stop them. I thought that’s it. I thought his time they finally put them in their place. The only thing that happened though was that Piper, Penelope and the senior who filmed them had to go to the principal.
We couldn’t finish half of the assignments because of Piper and Penelope. Piper kept turning towards another table and asked Axel for help, but they ended up talking about other things. I wonder if he’s her boyfriend. They’re flirting a lot, but I have never seen them making out. After class I follow the others to the second lesson.
It’s not just because of the photo that I didn’t tell anyone. My Dad’s so happy with his job I can’t destroy that. And Mom still thinks I’m happy. I often pretend to meet with friends from school but in reality I just go to the library. There aren’t many places to go in Maywood. Maybe it’s time to at least tell a teacher, but the liaison teacher that’s responsible for us isn’t impartial. He’s the older brother of one of the senior girls that sit with Piper during lunchtime. How do I know? When everybody’s ignoring you and there’s nothing for you to keep yourself busy with than observing your surroundings there’s not a single detail that you miss out on.
After lunch, which I spent alone at an empty table at the cafeteria, all ninth graders are supposed to meet at the gymnasium. Apparently we’re going on some trip soon. After some minutes the whole ninth grade is gathered in the school’s gymnasium. I sit in the first row of the spectator’s seating. We’re only about forty students. In Toronto the eighth grade was made up of over a hundred students. Sure, I expected fewer students at Maywood but not that little.
Ms. Downing and Mr. Hernández appear in front of us. Ms. Downing pushes a whiteboard in front of her.
“So, as you all know there’s a school trip for our new students every year,” she says. Her voice isn’t made for talking to a group of people without a microphone, it’s too weak. “We’re going on our yearly trip to Northshore Woods.”
Mr. Hernández steps forward. He probably realized Ms. Downing’s voice is too quiet. “Today we want to talk about what you need to bring with you, what the dos and don’ts are and with whom you’ll be sharing a cabin.”
“Is it mandatory?,” some guy asks. I think his name is Elliot.
“Yes, it is,” Mr. Hernández answers. “And one of the dos here at school is to raise your hands when you have something to say or ask, alright? The trip starts at eight am next Monday and ends five pm next Friday. It’s five days. We meet in front of the school.”
Some guy coughs and Ms. Downing, “Quiet, please.”
“I just coughed,” the guy answers.
“Sure,” Ms. Downing says.
Mr. Hernández continues talking. “Please bring everything you need for a five-day-trip with you. You’ll need a suitcase or large bag, towels, toiletries, a flashlight, water for the bus ride and enough clothes for five days. You’ll get bed linen at the camp.”
“Is this clear?,” Ms. Downing asks.
Most of us nod.
“At the camp there are five cabins,” Mr. Hernández says. He then begins gathering the students’ wishes with whom they want to share a cabin.
“I’ll share a cabin with Jason, Patrick, Fred and Elliot,” Axel says.
“And Lucas,” Elliot adds.
“Okay,” Mr. Hernández says. “We still have one boy left and you’re only seven, so Bran will join you.”
Axel sighs.
A loud ringtone sounds. Mr. Hernández gets his phone out of his back pocket. “Sorry, I’ll be right back.” He thrusts some documents into Ms. Downing’s hands and walks towards the door.
“Alright, next cabin is cabin number three,” Ms. Downing says.
After the whiteboard is filled with lots of, cabin numbers, names and lists, Ms. Downing turns towards us students. “Does everybody have a group now?”
I don’t, of course. No one bothers to ask me to share a cabin with them. I’ve been someone other people didn’t want to be with. I’ve also never been the most popular girl. There’s so much space in between the most popular and the most unpopular girl. Am I even more unpopular than Bran now? Sometimes even the teachers forget me, so everyone’s in a group but me, so I have to raise my hand, get ignored, walk to the front and tell the teacher I don’t have a group while all the others are already totally involved in their groupwork.
“Samantha.” Piper looks at me, then everybody else looks at me. I face Ms. Downing and Mr. Hernández but I can feel their stares on my back. It’s as if I’ve developed the ability.
“I don’t think…”
“Great,” Ms. Downing says. “So, it
’s Samantha, Alanna, Piper, Nora, Cora, Anna, Everly and Penelope.”
I want to say no, I want to protest, but what should I say? If I tell her I don’t want to share a cabin with those girls it seems awkward. I would have to tell her about the photo. I decide to just keep quiet. The other girls wouldn’t be much nicer to me either.
41
Dad drove me to school and helped me carry the suitcase. From school we’ll be heading to Northshore Woods, some forest area two hours away from Maywood. I’ll be back in a week. I don’t want to go but I feel like faking illness won’t work. I’ve never done that before, I’m rarely ever sick. But I’m sick of this. I’m sick of school and I’m sick of those girls and boys.
“Before you get on the bus we need to tick off your name on the list,” Ms. Downing says. “So please, no pushing.”
“Have fun, Samantha,” Dad says and walks back to the car.
Eventually he needs to know how miserable I am. He needs to know I don’t fit in here. I never will. This school, these people, this town, it doesn’t feel like a stop on the way to wherever I am heading. It rather feels like the end of the line. It feels like a cliff. I can jump but I there’s no going back. I’ve always had some wild and thrilling plans for my future. Maybe a little too wild but I’ve always felt like there’s great things ahead of me. It all started to crack, to fall to pieces, when I got here.
“Nora,” Ms. Downing says. “Melissa. Jason.” They’re already getting on the bus. I hurry to leave my suitcase next to the others as the bus driver starts stowing our baggage. I get in line. I really don’t want to be the last one to get on there.
“Goldinger,” Ms. Downing says.
“Shittinger,” Piper whispers right behind my back. I didn’t realize she got in line right behind me.
“Flores,” I hear Ms. Downing say as I step on the bus. It’s one of these old coaches that seem like they’re close to falling apart but they’re still used to transport students.
Most seats in the back are already taken. To prevent people from torturing me I sit down in the second row. The first row is blocked with purses and some documents. It’s reserved for Ms. Downing, Mr. Maas and Mr. Hernández. Bran is sitting on the other side in the second row. He stares out of the window. I wonder what they did to him, why he’s like that, why he’s constantly on his own. Maybe that’s just the way he is. I remember him telling me to leave him alone.
“Hurry,” Ms. Downing urges. Piper and Penelope walk past me and giggle.
It takes some more minutes for all of the students to get on the bus. Mr. Hernández sits down in front of Bran, Ms. Downing and Piper’s Dad sit in front of me. I hear them talking about their own childhood memories at summer camps. Well, it’s not easy to compare this trip to summer camps since it is already September. Mr. Maas has blonde hair but dark eyes. At least his eye color makes him look like his stepdaughter a bit. The seat next to me remains empty, so I stare out of the window as well, for the rest of the ride. After an hour I get so bored that I start listening to podcasts on my phone.
“We’re almost there,” Mr. Hernández says and stands up. “Prepare for getting off the bus.”
We’re literally in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by deep green trees. That’s all I can see outside. Branches, leaves, trunks and grass.
“Wait until the bus stops, then get off,” he instructs. Of course, most of them don’t wait until the bus stops but Mr. Hernández doesn’t seem to care. I get off the bus quickly, before all of the others stumble to the front of the bus, then wait outside for my suitcase. As soon as I see it I grab it and wait. I still don’t want to be here.
“Listen, everybody,” Ms. Downing shouts. She’s so incompetent when it comes to I’ve making people turn their attention to her.
“Guys,” Mr. Maas shouts. Now they have everybody’s attention.
“I’m going to tell you what cabin you’re assigned to,” she says. “Cabin number one is yours, Jason, Axel, Patrick, Fred, Elliot, Lucas and Bran.“ Our cabin is the last one she mentions. “Alanna, Nora, Cora, Anna, Piper, Everly, Samantha and Penelope. Yours is cabin number five.”
The noise our suitcases make on the ground accompanies us all the way to our cabin.
“You’re Dad’s cool,” Nora says to Piper.
“Stepdad,” Piper corrects her. “And yes, he’s alright. He allows me to do whatever I want.”
“I wish my parents were like that,” Cora says. “He’s the father of your younger sister?”
Piper nods.
There are lots of wooden cabins a few feet away from each other, one on the edge is number five.
“That’s ours,” Alanna says and points at the small wooden house.
Penelope opens the creaking door. The rest follows, I’m last. Inside there are four bunk beds. They are wooden, of course, just like everything else in here, the walls, the ceiling, the floor and the door that probably leads to the bathroom.
“This one’s mine,” Piper says and throws her bag onto the top bed near the window. Of course, she occupies the only bed close to some sunshine. “Penelope, that’s yours.” She points at the top bunk behind hers.
Alanna and Nora put their suitcases onto the respective bottom beds. I walk towards a bottom bed close to the bathroom door.
“Don’t take the top bunk, it’s mine,” Cora says and walks past me, brushing me.
“Cora, you wanted to braid my hair,” Piper says while she climbs up the ladder to her bunk bed. Cora, however, opens the wooden door and suddenly stops. “Oh damn, I thought this is the restroom.” It’s a storeroom with a mop and some yellow plastic tank.
“Me too,” I say and sit down on the comfortless mattress of my bed.
“Go piss in there, Goldpisser,” Piper says and climbs back down the ladder. It’s not uncommon to have a nasty girl in class but I wonder why all the other girls don’t stop her. Nobody ever tells her to stop. With her head above Cora’s shoulder she says, “There’s no restroom in here? Eww, we have to go outside to pee?”
“I saw a cabin with those restroom signs,” Alanna says.
“Separate?,” Piper asks.
“Yeah, for girls and boys,” Alanna answers.
We don’t stay in there for long because Ms. Downing called for us a few minutes after we put these beige covers on our blankets and pillows. Outside all of us stand in a circle around a bonfire area. Ms. Downing stands in the middle next to some leftover ashes.
“As you know our new students come to this camp every year. And on our first day every year we walk through the woods with torches.”
“Whoo-hoo, torches,” screams a guy from the other side of the circle and whistles.
“Yes, great,” Ms. Downing says. “We meet at seven, right here where we stand. Please wear a rain jacket and bring a backpack, a water bottle, flashlights. No phones and no purses.”
“No phones,” whispers Piper. “Bullshit.”
“We’ll hand out the torches later,” she says. “So, this is the plan for this afternoon.” She reads some kind of timetable.
1 pm lunch at the dining cabin
2 pm time out
4 pm fun time
6.30 pm preparation of the forest walk
7 pm forest walk
10 pm dinner
“See you at the dining cabin.“
I have absolutely no idea what fun time stands for, but I feel like it’s going to be games. This is so different from the acting camps I went to. Not because we didn’t do activities or played games but because I’m with some of the most disgusting people I’ve ever met, trapped in the woods somewhere in the middle of nowhere.
Ms. Downing walks away and the circle starts to break up.
“Are you gonna braid my hair now?,” Piper turns to Cora. “Let’s go back to the cabin.”
I look at my watch. There are ten minutes left until lunchtime. I have nowhere to go, so I just sit down on a wooden bench that stands between two cabins. I’d rather avoid Piper than spend time,
as little as ten minutes, with her at the cabin. It’s bad enough to share that cabin with her. At exactly one o’clock I walk towards the dining cabin, which is just a regular wooden cabin that is larger and has a kitchen in the back.
“Samantha,” Ms. Downing heads me off at the front door. There’s barely anyone inside. Normally I’m never that punctual but since my classmates at Maywood refuse to sit next to me I have to show up early, so they won’t tell me to fuck off. “Samantha, you’re early, come on, help Bran serve the food to the others.”
If that’s what happens to people who arrive on time I’ll reconsider doing that. Me as the servant will make Piper extremely happy. I don’t want to hear her giggle when she sees me. “Okay.” What choice do I have? You can’t say no to a teacher that wants you to serve the food.
“You’ll find the container with today’s meal, spaghetti with basil and tomatoes, at the counter,” she explains to me. “Oh, and there are three extra plates for allergy sufferers. Just heat them up. Bran will tell you what to do.”