The Bus Ride
It was a hot ride on a really old bus headed for Camp Green Lake. It wasnβt that fun, either. All I had was a little backpack with barely anything in it, so I couldnβt entertain myself.
The guard on the bus wouldnβt let me talk to the only other passenger on the bus, a boy not much older than me, Stanley Something-or-other.
I donβt know why I was going to a juvenile detention campβ¦ an all-boys juvenile detention camp. I was a 13-year-old girl thatβd never done anything wrong.
Well, technically, there were a couple of things, but as far as I knew, Iβd never been caught. Just a tiny bit of shopliftingβ¦ candy bars. When I was, like, five. I didnβt 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.
