The Bus Ride
It was a hot ride on a really old bus headed for Camp Green Lake. It wasn’t that fun, either. All I had was a little backpack with barely anything in it, so I couldn’t entertain myself.
The guard on the bus wouldn’t let me talk to the only other passenger on the bus, a boy not much older than me, Stanley Something-or-other.
I don’t know why I was going to a juvenile detention camp… an all-boys juvenile detention camp. I was a 13-year-old girl that’d never done anything wrong.
Well, technically, there were a couple of things, but as far as I knew, I’d never been caught. Just a tiny bit of shoplifting… candy bars. When I was, like, five. I didn’t know any better. The kids in this camp were supposedly hardened criminals in miniature form. Not me.
And here I was, disguised as a boy, taking the long, hot trip to Camp Green Lake.
