Teen Summer Camp

I was a "bad" kid. My mother didn't trust me at home. I could dimly hear the echoes of her shouting in the hallway at my father. He should've known to stop sticking up for me by now. I had yet to have a normal summer. I was 15, and I'd never been given the chance to meet anyone in my neighborhood. I'd been in Catholic School most of my life, and the Boys and Girls Club for the rest.

I was sick of the club, with their strict rules and overprotective babying. Even worse I hated the reason why I was here- my mother. It was going to be my last summer here. Like so many people in my life, my friends from "The Place" (as we called it) were just temporary. They were were seasonally employed to pretend they were my friends. A year later, I couldn't remember their names, so it was a surprise when I heard -

"HEY! Jackie Chan!"

That's one way to get my attention. I spun around quick with my clenched fists and a scowl. I hate racism. I'm Korean. I've been here almost my whole life, and speak better English than most of the people I've met in the public schools I've reluctantly joined. I had never encountered racism until I experienced public school. I wasn't in the mood for it. I'm never in the mood for it, but that day it was about to be the one thing to push me over the edge.

At 5'6", 103lbs., I wasn't a fearsome sight, by any normal means, but the endless wardrobe of black I wore might have added to the fury in my eyes when I turned to face the tall white kid with blond hair and a stupid grin. When you're always on the edge of suicide, it doesn't matter what you do, because you know (think) you can just kill yourself after whatever you do. I had my back to the wall - nothing mattered anymore. I'd give him a few seconds to sputter an apology and a lame excuse before I decked him, I thought to myself.

"You don't remember me? I'm Phillip, stupid," he said.

I truly didn't remember him, and apparently it still looked like he wasn't going to be worth the precious space in my mind. He called me stupid? Oh boy, today was the wrong day to mess with me, I considered spreading my mood, but I knew it wasn't worth the repercussions at home. I was re-introduced to people who swore they knew me last year and I nodded and tried to be less threatening. I remembered Arron and Zach, but Phillip...man...he was pushing it. He apparently couldn't get enough Jet Li jokes in.

Arron was a sandy haired kid around my age. He was taller, but barely any heavier than me. He was lanky and played guitar. He was the image of cool at the place, it seemed. Zach was heavyset and about my height. If anyone was a grizzly bear - he was. He had a beard he had to shave every day; I didn't shave. There also was a quiet kid named Clay. He was...quiet. I still can't imagine what ever went on in his mind. He played guitar a bit too, and at the time I was learning as well. Me and Arron were the best, and I was raised to be competitive. Not by my parents, of course, but by the need for attention I received when I was the best. We were all there because our parents didn't trust us around the house. There was also a girl named Chelsea. She was stuck between a limbo of social acceptance and Christianity. She was having a hard time fitting in, and we didn't make it any easier. Then again, if you say you're a Pink Floyd fan, and that you're favorite song by them is "Stairway to the Darkside of the Moon" - you didn't deserve our respect.

The summer was a little more rebellious than normal, we all knew we weren't allowed back next year because of our ages. I told Phillip to chill out - or else - and he did. We all spent a ton of our summer on The Bench (aka time-out) for not being where we were supposed to be when we were supposed to be. Zach was a kindred spirit. We didn't get along at first. I think it's because I was a manic-depressive and he was simply depressed. When you're down in dumps smiling people are irritating, as in, "Don't they realize their life is worthless, pointless and optional?"

We all started skipping planned activities, getting into trouble, dominating at video games and chilling outside to play guitar. Somewhere near the middle of the summer a rift grew between me and Zach. Zach was twice my weight, but I figured if I was so close to killing myself that I had nothing to be afraid of. We stopped talking. We stopped hanging out. I hung out with Clay. Zach hung out with Arron. Phillip tried to hang out with all of us, failed, and just hung out with Chelsea.

I don't know why Clay chose to hang out with me, and I asked him. He shrugged it off, and never gave me an answer. I was fine with that. It beat the hell out of sitting alone all day. We brought our acoustics, played music, and made theories about what they were saying about us. I'm not sure if Arron had a vendetta against me, but a week later I talked with Zach.

Zach had been in and out of "Poplar Springs" (a mental institution for kids) for a couple years. We had it all figured out. We were all going to die anyway - why keep pretending? Everyone else was shallow - with their 'purpose' and 'morals'. Life was just a bitter state of decay. We had it right, of course, being teenagers at the time.
We forged a friendship and even discussed making a band. We'd be metal. We wrote songs about cutting, death, suicide, and religion (how much we hated it).

Near the end of the summer we did something revolutionary. There was a young-ish lifeguard named "Tricia" who we all knew. She was pretty cool. She was pretty, too. She didn't care when we broke stupid rules, she was on our side. Not to say she was irresponsible, she just didn't care much for some of the ridiculous rules. We thought that if we could do something seemingly wrong that there was no rule against - we'd be able to walk off free. Unfortunately, my idea got us all into a lot of trouble.

Well, somewhere near our last day, SOMEBODY had to push her in the pool. I mean, she was a lifeguard, but she NEVER had to jump in and save anyone. Phillip was drooling because she was wearing a white t-shirt. We skipped "Movie Room Time" and went to the pool. Nobody was in the pool because she was cleaning it, so we hung out for a while and each of us thought how best we'd work this thing out.

None of us had the guts to push her into the pool (yet two of us had the guts to kill ourselves?) and instead of HER going into the pool, we all went swimming. In our clothes. We just jumped in. OK, maybe I started it - but some people need a leader. She laughed and we got out...soaking wet. There was no way out of this one. She opened a back door for us and we all sat around outside and talked, hoping the sun would dry us off.

The sun wasn't quite as reliable as we hoped it would be. We were dripping wet...and we needed somewhere to go. We made a break for it. We ESCAPED! We hopped a fence and walked across the street to a thrift store to see if maybe we could buy some clothes there instead. We decided those clothes sucked; we didn't have that kind of money anyway. We walked for what seemed like a couple hours. We walked through some weird construction zone that was like a jungle. Muddy and torn from thorns on the wayside, we walked through a rich upper class neighborhood and talked about running away. That didn't look like it was going to work. We were going to have to go back.

It turns out we did a huge circle and ended up near The Place again. We were dry by now, but caked with mud. Tricia saved us here. We hosed ourselves down and became clean - and wet - again. Turns out there WAS no rule against jumping in the pool with all your clothes, but you can't be on the pool deck with your shoes on (Cheap shot!). We got burned for that one, but somehow kept Tricia out of trouble. Our parents were called and we were suspended for a week. We promised never to go in the pool again, and it looked like a victory for the Boys and Girls Club - except for the sunny freedom we had tasted on that fateful day of summer camp.