Mineira1986 wrote: ↑1 year ago
Yeah, that was kind of my point. If this was an adult camp, I would have expected an impossible first task. Wasn't expecting it for a children-teenager camp. Still, it's a very good lesson and a twist I wasn't expecting (a good twist, in my opinion).
This is really a camp for teens, and (as can be expected) not your usual summer camp. I honestly think that not letting them fail would be a little belittling. The young people send to military boot camp or get hazed as students are only two years older. I don't intend to treat these characters as stupid, young children that need to be protected at all cost. As said in the first chapter, this camp gives them a lot of freedom in their decisions, and sometimes those have consequences. On the surface what is told may seem hard, but there are always for them to fall back on.
-----------------------------------------------------
“Comment ça va?”
“Ça va bien,” Giselle replied automatically. She spun around and faced the petite girl she had tricked in the mall.
“That’s where my French ends. Wanna join us for dinner?”
Back at the office block, it was dinner time. The canteen consisted of brilliant colors, clean, soothing corners, and vivid lights to create a tasteless, uninspirational space for millions to dull their lives and creativity. The existence of the forces of nature and rebellion had been squandered by boring perfection.
“Sure, fine,” Giselle responded, carrying her cheap plastic tray to the white table with wooden chairs that were nearly uncomfortable. Four teens were already seated there, eating mediocre mashed potatoes, gravy, and a sausage. She sat down and gave a friendly nod. Still sporting their mission clothes, the newcomers were out of place, not wearing black tracksuits.
“Hi,” the golden-haired girl said, sitting down opposite Giselle. “I go here by Tara, short for Tarantula.”
Giselle chucked despite her efforts to remain decent. “Tarantula?” Her parents had not loved their newborn.
“Yeah, Tarantula. During my initiative mission, my weapon of choice was a net.”
Another small girl with black hair and Asian features turned to Giselle. “I’m Red Deer, but everyone calls me Red.”
“That’s cause she froze when she was confronted. Like a deer in headlights.”
“What’s up with the animal names?” Giselle inquired, confused. The others snickered.
A muscular boy with short curly ginger hair spoke up. “That’s how we roll here. No real names, only our code names. We’ll give you one tonight. By the way, you can eat. It ain’t any better cold.”
Giselle nodded, hearing his name was Bulldog. She let her fork enter the mashed potatoes, and their taste was disappointingly bland, but at least it was edible.
“Everything here is performance-based. Doing better means better food, like ice cream or cake for dessert,” Red added. “You play constantly. This game never stops.”
Tara smirked. “You should be ruthless. Your win might be very rough for your opponent, but that’s better than ending up there yourself. Everyone understands that.”
Bulldog bobbed his head. “However, reputations exist. Who’s trustworthy? Too trustful? Who’ll take revenge? Responsibility for mistakes? Others should want to team with you, but having friends and allies is easier.”
“If you want to continue to win, you need allies. Strong alliances with much trust. A knife easily ends up in your back,” Red urged, all serious.
Giselle did not care about these people in the slightest. Her summer would either be lazy and depressing or hard-working and tolerable. These nerds were unable to chill out and protest these rules. These weirdos did not mind injuring or kidnapping someone.
“So ...” Tara said. “Are you in? You seem the most talented of the bunch. You embarrassed me already and outsmarted the rest of us. We could use you.”
“I’ll consider it.” That was a lie. Giselle preferred hanging out with sane campers. The two boys on the table had remained silent, and declining could antagonize all. Giselle did not desire them close by, not as friends and neither as enemies.
“That’s a no?”
“It’s not. I don’t understand any shit here. Can’t promise what I don’t comprehend.”
The other campers gazed at Giselle as Tarantula cracked a smile. “Fair enough. You win. But remember who gave this offer first.”
Giselle nodded and devoured her meal during the awkward silence. These games did not interest her, and the alliance did not want to share their knowledge with the newcomer. In general, everyone here was quiet and focused. Her school canteen was totally different: laughter and happiness to celebrate their temporary release from the classroom prisons.
Not much later, the middle-aged man that had briefed the newcomers rose, and the eyes of the thirty campers followed him. “Good evening, students,” he voiced after climbing a small stage. He sported the same outdated suit. “I’m pleased to see your new companions received a warm welcome and are accepted into our ranks. You met this afternoon as enemies, and your competition had mixed results. Your mercy and forgiveness are remarkable, but you made unnecessary ludicrous mistakes. Lapses of judgment far below our expectations and standards. Accordingly, responsibility and accountability have to be taken.”
Giselle’s lips curled. The slow, monotone voice made her reckon she was being pranked by a low-budget TV show. Otherwise, she was in a middle school improv class.
The man opened his notebook. “Incident 1, Polar Bear.”
A boy with clipped black hair and muscles like a professional wrestler came forward.
“Explain yourself.”
His genuine nerves amused Giselle. Like a toddler forced to admit having grabbed chocolate and half had ended up on their face, he faced the crowd.
“So, uh, we were waiting near the entrance, from a bench. I spotted what appeared to be one of our objectives approximately 100 feet away. I told my partner this information, but she did not recognize him. Hence, I stood up and pointed at him, which caused him to flee. If I had waited, he would have walked right into our arms.”
“Exactly. You were recognized despite him not knowing your identity. You blew your own cover. Spin the wheel.”
A blanket was lifted to reveal a dark green wheel belonging to a game show or carnival. The wheel itself was almost entirely covered. Only the selected option was visible. Polar Bear gave it a big spin, and the needle rapidly tapped against the many screws. It decelerated slowly, but reading the text was still impossible. The rationale for the punishment still mystified Giselle: It was not terrible, was it? It was not illegal or harming anyone. His nerves read that whatever the outcome, it would be more severe than a few hours of detention or cleaning the school’s hallways. Finally, she read the strange word “cleave-gag,” but the needle picked the subsequent possibility: Blindfold.
The middle-aged man coughed. “Polar Bear, your sentence is being blindfolded tonight. Do you want to appeal?”
“No, sir,” he replied as Hanover rushed onto the stage with a black hat. She pushed it over his head and fastened a strap under his chin with a tiny padlock. The specialized blindfold frightened Giselle. This camp was bizarre. Hanover led Polar Bear back to his seat, and the man called Tarantula forward.
“Please, confess. You know the drill,” the man ordered, and Tara detailed her awkward interaction with Giselle in the mall. Apparently, they had also trailed her for a few minutes inside the mall but lost her. Tara had made the call and would accept the sanction for the error. Despite the satisfying win, seeing Tara being strapped into a straitjacket disheartened her. She wanted to embarrass these oddballs, not humiliate them like circus animals. Now, she was treated like a patient in an insane asylum.
Giselle was responsible for the third and final punishment too. The legs of one of the guys who had overlooked to lock the van were taped together.
“Don’t feel bad,” Red Deer whispered. “They all deserved it.”
Tarantula overheard her. “The bondage is annoying at most. The podium ceremony is the real punishment. Washington knows how to instill a message.”
As the boy hopped down the podium’s stairs, an ominous smile formed on the man’s cheeks. Giselle presumed his name was Washington. “After these necessary corrections, the festivities to formally welcome our new friends can start. They require code names. Please, don’t be shy. Come on the stage to select them!”
Giselle sighed, not desiring any attention, but she had few options. The six chairs soon bared five eager teens and Giselle in the darkest corner. The man narrated their mission accomplishments and urged their peers to find a fitting animal as a code name. Six boxes for slips of paper with potential nicknames and explanations were placed, and voting would seal the decision.
Giselle wished to be absorbed by the ground or vanish in thin air. She detested being judged, and regardless of the result, it would shape her life for the upcoming five weeks. Her tricks could provoke revenge already. She stood out. Although failing to complete the entire mission, she was praised for achieving the maximum possible. Her table was in a heated debate, and Bulldog submitted a name for her. In total, four names were entered for her.
The voting process was even more stressful. Again, anonymous and sometimes needing multiple rounds, the six fates belonged to their counterparts.
“Spider Octopus, we welcome,” Washington told the girl Giselle had saved from the van. Octopuses were great at escaping. “One person remains, and she solely posed a challenge and plagued you with catastrophic results. To reward your strategy, you get snacks tonight.”
A youth male counselor gave her a bag with a bottle of cola, peanuts, candy, and chocolate. Giselle hid her disappointment well: No beer at this children’s camp.
“Let’s read your names,” Washington said as Giselle’s heart pounded in her chest. How cruel would the names be? She anticipated dung beetle, tadpole, earwig, cockroach, or crueler and more degrading suggestions. As her four possibilities were read, her breathing slowed. They were not awful, but she would never suggest them herself.
Dolphin was dropped, and Grey Wolf failed as well. Stonefish was the runner-up, and when the fourth name was picked, Giselle faked a smile. It was bearable.
“Swift Fox.”