The dormitories were _insane. _I wasn’t sure how they worked though. Boys and girls separate? Separated by talent? Everyone just went where they wanted? Turns out, none of the above. According to Leo, the room chose you. Lucky me, I didn’t have a power yet, and that was how they chose. Each dorm was about ten feet off of the ground on something like a large tree stump. They were all in a large semicircle just a few feet from the pavilion. There was one that was made completely of stained glass and looked like a giant sun catcher, one that had a clear glass exterior with water flowing out over the glass to appear as a waterfall, and one that was made completely of flowers. They all had the weird shape of a dumpling… or a flower… possibly garlic? I saw kids _everywhere. _Growing flowers, messing with swords, riding unicorns. Unicorns? Something didn’t sit right… just then, Leo grabbed my arms and turned me left to face one of the dorms. I had gotten so lost in thought I didn’t even realize we had arrived at theirs. There were tons more down the row, and Leo’s sat right about in the middle. A water fountain squirted iridescent water out from the top nearby. His dorm was beautiful. Glass windows curved upward in the dumpling shape, and constellations appeared and disappeared over it. I just stood there, gawking at the house. Alea laughed and pulled me up the wooden steps. Leo and Kai followed. The door was the same color as the rest of the house with a blue gemstone handle. Leo tapped me on the shoulder, and I realized how cute he was. His blond hair and black T-shirt, and he was tall too. His eyes looked like fire. He cleared his throat, and I realized I’d been staring. Cheeks burning, I stepped aside and hid behind Alea. That was mortifying. He pulled the key out of nowhere and unlocked the door. Alea and Kai went in, and Leo held the door for me. I hurried through, avoiding eye contact.

The pavilion was huge, roughly the size of a football field. The clear, shimmering, octagon-shaped tiles sparkled in the sunlight. A small gazebo sat near the end of the pavilion at the far left, that’s where Leonard was leading me. A boy and a girl that looked about my age, 15-16 years old, were talking near the side. They stopped when they saw Leo. The girl had long wavy black hair, amber eyes, and the burning purple symbol of paw prints up her neck and face. She wore a light blue T-shirt with “ACDC, The European Tour” printed on the front with denim shorts and Converse. The boy had short white hair and green eyes with a sun symbol on his face and neck. He wore khakis with a black shirt and sandals. They'd obviously been arguing because their symbols were bright and visible. “Hey Leo,” the girl said glumly. Leo continued smiling. “Alea, Kai, I’d like you to meet Cedar.” Alea smiled mischievously at Leo, and he blushed, though I couldn't tell because he'd been sunburned so badly. “Hi,” I gave a small wave then quickly moved my hand back under my arm. “She’s a little shy.” Leo winked at me. Now it was my turn to blush. Kai remained silent. He was clearly still upset about the disagreement he and Alea had had. “We can show you your quarters and get you settled in.” Alea offered. “Are people here normally this friendly?” I asked. “We’re the underdogs, we look out for each other.” Kai finally spoke. “We all have been humiliated to death, beaten by a bully, and you'd be surprised how much it can help to have someone to stand by you. Welcome to the team.” Leo said. Something inside me felt happy to finally have a place to fit in. The other half wanted to be popular, but I ignored it. “I’d love some directions, thanks,” I smiled at Alea. She returned the gesture, waltzing over to me and locking my arm in hers. “Finally, a girl.” She seemed overjoyed. “Lead the way,” Alea gestured to Kai.

Am I a troubled teen? Mabey. Although “troubled” doesn’t necessarily apply to what I am.

My parents are the living definition of “a picture of perfection”. Top of all their classes in college, perfect teeth, perfect smile, perfect hair, perfect personality, perfect powers, perfect everything. The only thing not perfect? Me. Their not so smart, rebellious, 14-year-old, black sheep of the family— the worst part? My powers. They are healers and shielders whereas I’m a Shade. A.k.a a darkness manipulator.

So here I am, at Ridgeveiw— a wilderness camp for troubled teens. My parents sent me here, thinking it would help me with whatever “phase” I was going through. But it’s not a phase, it’s just me. Being myself. Though that doesn’t seem to matter now, as I walk through the freshly polished golden gates of Ridgeveiw.

Crying, yelling, screaming, fire burning the camp cabins down, water flooding the camp ground, chaos, and clearly out-of-it mages. My first thought? I’m not going to make it out of here alive.

Now, to my cabin, room B26.

I wake up at 6 at the normal time as I do every day, it's an hour-long bus ride to school and school starts at 8. I roll out of bed, almost falling off, and walk downstairs to see my mom and two women. I think nothing of it; they're probably just her friends. I grab a pancake my mom made and take a seat at the dining table with the rest of them.

"Good morning," I say.

"Hello, darling. We need to talk to you about something," says my mom.

"Alright, go at it," I reply.

"You're getting sent to a wilderness camp. Me and your dad have been talking; we don't feel comfortable with you in the house anymore."

"What? No, no, no! I'm not going! Have you heard of those places? They're horrible!"

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, you have no choice."

I wipe my tears and run up to my room. I smack my suitcase down to pack, but before I can do that, the two strangers start yelling at me. "We're leaving now!"

"But I'm not packed!" I protest.

"You don't need to be," they say. I walk to the van and see three other girls who definitely aren't happy either. I try to say hi, but one of the girls just looks away and ignores me.

We get to the camp, and I'm told to strip so they can search me like this is a prison. They give me my outfit; I have a choice of a skirt or ugly black pants. I grab my clothes and try walking to the bathroom, but I get stopped. They tell me to change in front of them.

Finally, it's bedtime. There are no rooms, just hallways and hallways of mattresses. I get placed next to a girl named Susie; she seems sweet. I don't understand how she would be in here; she's so nice. I'm here for 12 months—how will I survive? I lay on my mattress, staring at the ceiling, trying to process everything that's happened. I can't believe my parents would send me here. I hear whispers from the other girls, and I feel a mix of fear and anger. I want to scream, to tell them that I don't belong here, but I know it won't change anything.

The next morning, we wake up early, and the counselors are already barking orders. They make us line up for breakfast, and I can feel the tension in the air. Everyone seems on edge, and I can’t shake the feeling that we're all trapped in this nightmare together.

After breakfast, we’re taken outside for what they call "team-building exercises." It feels more like punishment. They make us climb ropes and do trust falls, but I can’t trust anyone here. I glance at Susie, and she gives me a small smile. It’s the only thing that keeps me going.

As the days pass, I start to learn the rules of this place. No talking back, no complaining, and definitely no escape. But I can’t help but think about my life before this—my friends, my freedom, and my family. I miss them so much. I wonder if they even care about me anymore.

The days turn into weeks, and I find myself adjusting to the harsh routine of camp life. The counselors are relentless, pushing us to our limits both physically and mentally. I try to keep my head down and follow the rules, but there's a constant nagging feeling inside me that I can't shake off.

One afternoon, during a rare moment of downtime, I sit with Susie and a girl named Mia. We share stories of our lives before camp, and it feels like a small escape. Susie talks about her love for painting, and Mia shares her dreams of traveling the world. I find myself opening up, telling them about my favorite music and how I used to go to concerts with my friends. It feels good to connect, even in this place where everything feels so bleak.

But as the weeks drag on, the reality of our situation sinks in. The counselors seem to thrive on our struggles, and they often remind us that we’re here because we “need to learn.” I can see the toll it takes on everyone. Some girls have started to break down, crying during group sessions, while others put on a brave face, pretending they’re okay. I want to be strong, but I also want to scream and let out all the frustration and sadness that’s building up inside me.

As I lie on my mattress at night, I think about how I can survive this place. I start to plan small rebellions in my head—little acts of defiance that might help me feel like I still have some control. Maybe I can find a way to escape, or at least make my voice heard. I refuse to let this camp break me. I have to believe that there’s a way out of here, and I won’t give up hope.

I turned to the entrance of the camp. According to my parents, I was spending my entire summer here. The kids looked terrifying. I hid my hands behind my back and tried not to let my anxiety take control. Too late. My hands were shaking, and I knew what would happen now. I ducked as a small tree branch flew past me and landed on the cement with a loud crack. Everyone stared at me. One very intimidating kid looked me up and down and laughed. How could I have been here? Many people were wondering that, even myself, but I couldn’t show it. I would probably be hiding in a tree the whole time. I noticed one of the intimidating kids walking towards me. He had the glowing gold symbol of a clock on his face. Time. Of course, his power was time. Of all the things. I hadn’t even gotten my symbol yet, things just flew across the room whenever I got nervous. That’s probably why my parents sent me here. The boy had short-cropped brown hair and an evil gleam in his gold-brown eyes. I wasn’t exactly sure what his time power specified in. It could’ve been slowing time, speeding up time, traveling in time, or even stopping it altogether. Most people with time powers ended up being criminals, that’s why they terrified me so much. He sized me up, and I knew what would happen. Most likely a black eye. The worst? A broken bone. Another kid intervened. He was tan, had short, curly blond hair, and a red fire symbol burned from his neck up the side of his face, stopping at his eye. Usually, the symbols were invisible, but when you were ready to use your power or were worked up, they showed up again. I had heard tales of how people had gotten theirs. Sometimes it felt like it was being burned in, sometimes you couldn’t feel it at all. It depended on your skill. I had very dark red hair that reached to my waist, (sometimes people would mistake it for brown), and dark, icy blue eyes. I was wearing a white shirt with ruffle sleeves, and baggy jeans with my yellow lace-up Vans. The boy with blond hair was just inches away from me. “Don’t make me get Ms. Harley again Adacus.” He looked serious enough, but I could tell he was trying hard not to smile. “Yeah, Fartwinkle.” Another kid began to laugh. The blond kid just ignored him. He and Adacus had a staring contest until Adacus just waved his hand in the air. “C’mon guys, we can do better.” More than half the crowd followed him, the rest just gave me weird looks and then left. The blond kid turned to me and smirked. There it was. He held out his hand. “I’m Leonard Farwinkle, not what they said.” I could tell he got that a lot. “I’m Cedar Dedri,” I shook his hand. “And I know.” Leonard laughed. “I’ve never heard of your name before. Cee-dar.” I laughed. How was this guy not more popular? “Follow me, I have some friends I want you to meet.” He grabbed my arm and led me through the pavilion.

“Wilderness camp? C’mon, Mom, you know that’s stuff for druids,” Grackle’s voice whined from the back of the carriage, almost drowned out by the sound of the rocks under the horse’s hooves. “,and I don’t need to learn anything they teach, those spells are all for softies. A mere kit could cast guidance.”

In the front, his mother rolled her eyes again. “For the fifth time, you are going to this camp. You are going to learn something. And you’re going to like it,” his father hissed back. “Unless, of course, you’d like to stay and help us clean graves?”

“no…..i guess not…….” Grackle mumbled back, quieting down. He stayed that way for the rest of the ride, lashing his tail back and forth but not daring to complain again. Few things were worse than the desecrated graves his parents cleaned for a living.

After a couple more hours, he felt the rumbling slow to a stop, followed by the crunch of his parent’s paws on the ground as they walked around to open the back. Sun flooded into the cramped body of the carriage as the doors swung open. Once his eyes adjusted, Grackle was greeted with the typical cold scowl of his father’s face and the enthusiastic grin of his mother.

“We’re here!” she cheerily announced, ignoring the clear expression of displeasure on Grackle’s face. “Get your stuff, your counselor is waiting. Let’s go!”

Begrudgingly, Grackle hopped down. He pulled his trunk after him from the back, dragging it on the ground as they walked to the front area. The entrance was a brightly lit clearing swarming with people. Waiting expectantly for them towards the center was a tall elf in a bright red capelet, clearly the counselor Grackle’s mother had mentioned. A tag on his chest read “Cervinae Fallow.”

“Grackle, is it?” came his icy voice, likely meant to intimidate Grackle. However, having lived with his father his entire life, this slid right off of him. “Yes,” he responded, using the same icy tone. And then, to mock him; “Cervinae, is it?”

A disdained expression crossed the elf’s face for a moment before he could collect himself. That was met with an eye roll from Grackle, who’s attitude hadn’t changed. Regardless, he continued, not to be put off by the sheer disrespect; “No. You may call me Mr. Fallow.”

He glanced down at his list, checking that he truly had to deal with this unruly kit. Seeing Grackle’s name very definitively carved onto it, he sighed and met his eyes once again. “ I will be your counselor for the next few weeks. I do hope our program helps your…issues.”

[yippee yay]

Lost my draft. A placeholder because I don’t want to write my poem again.

“This is bullshit,” his hiking boots sloshing the mud underneath them. “This can’t even be legal.”

“Listen, Jay,…can I call you Jay?” (The older yet eerily chipper camp counselor could not call him Jay. His mother, as horrid as she was for sending him to a camp where everything and everyone was consistently damp and cold, named him Jason, much to the behest of the guy seemingly running the place) “it’s only for 6 weeks. Think of it as a rehabilitation program.”

“This is the weirdest rehab I’ve been to, and I’ve been to state ran ones”

The camp counselor was silent, brushing away the branches and the lichen (which Jay learned in the brochure on the way over is a type of fungus and not moss) that clung to them. They sloshed and struggled their way to the main cabin where, upon entry and eventual door closure, was greeted by at least 6 other kids his age. The older man took the soaked jacket from Jason’s shoulders and hung it on a hook next to the others’ jackets.

It was raining hard, the weather not even permitting a peek of sunlight through the clouds. Seattle had the wettest year on record in 2003, so naturally, Jason’s mother planned for his departure during a rainstorm, coining the term “exposure therapy”, which she didn’t actually know the real meaning of. The drive to Seattle was long, arduous and painfully boring. Imagine a 6 hour uninterrupted flight; no cell reception, no MP3 player, not even an GameBoy…with your mother.

“Yknow, JayJay, this wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t mess around so much. You and I didn’t have half of the issues we had when you were little. Then puberty hit and it was all downhill from there. You think they let you bring your own hot water on the plane? I want tea but don’t trust the water here. Does the coffee shop in the airport give you hot water? Do you gotta bring your own thermos? Do you-“

You see, Jason, a 16 year old hailing from Acadiana, Louisiana, was an addict. His addiction being that he had the unique ability to produce flames with his hands and set fire to anything without a pulse; except for one time he almost made his girlfriends brother turn into a piece of beef you forgot on the grill while eating BBQ… Burnt and sad to look at which prompted his mothers decision to bring him to Lake Lorelei Camp for Troubled Teens, although they both thought the name could have been better.

Lake Lorelei Camp is not a camp for normal teens and their normal teen issues with their normal teen lives, as much as the normal teens in question tell you that it’s a problem unique to them and them only. Lake Lorelei is a government appointed camp for not normal teens that can’t get a grasp on their powers or “abilities”, since some with “abilities” found “powers” to have a bit of an unnecessary God complex-y twinge to it.

Jason sat at the empty middle table, awaiting some grand, vastly dramatic introduction from the counselor. Instead, an older (ancient) woman, a nun with a menopausal mustache to rival Tom Selleck himself, served us bowls of fragrant, seemingly well seasoned beef stew over rice on a metal cart that was probably about as old as she was. The beef stew was thick, warm and hearty, and you could tell it was made with love -and the weather- in mind.

The counselor shrugged off his equally soaked jacket and said “Boys and girls, please, introduce yourselves to one another, eat our delicious and l’ll be seeing you for your abilities and skills training tomorrow.”

Look. It’s not _my _fault I’m prone to trouble. Well, maybe it is, but that’s no reason to send me off to a summer camp for “troubled teens”. Everyone here’s either emo or just plain weird. Their magic style reflects it too. Your wings reflect your personality. Mine are - and I quote - Mischievous Green. Fitting, huh? Most of the weird kids’ wings are orange, and you can probably guess the emo kids’ color(s). You’d think I’d stand out, but thanks to my ability (and in part a genetic mutation), I can make any part (or parts) of me invisible. This helps in my “mischief”. I naturally blend into the environment with my soil colored hair and tanned skin, but the invisibility helps. A lot.

The biggest heist I’ve ever pulled off was three weeks ago. It’s what got me sent to this stupid place. But some context is required first.

As you get older, your wings grow larger. Once you turn 16, you get a wand. There are five types, one for each class. Most kids choose the same class as their parents. Each class has different standards. The first class, the Freeflys, have few rules, but the social expectation is high. If you act out, instead of being punished you’ll be publicly shamed and judged, which is arguably worse. The second class is the Bluefoxes. They’re sneaky and swift. Mischief is their middle name. They don’t get sent to summer camps from behvior. Alas, I’m only 13. Anyway, the third class is the Royowls. As the name suggests, they are regal, sophisticated, and super boring. The fourth class is the Starkwolves. They’re your ordinary people, much like humans. They don’t use much magic, and live their lives pretty, well, normally. The fifth class is the Alphas. They rule the country. Sadly, you can’t join them. It’s only secrecy and a dynasty. Boo hoo.

Back to the story. As I mentioned, when you turn 16, you get a wand. What I didn’t mention was the Alphas have a very special, rare wand made of Ampherite. It’s the strongest material, yet weightless. It can also only be found in the woods, made of goat feces (gross) that had gone through a special process courtesy of the Forest Elves. The wand giver is called the Mangi, conveniently a part of the Alphas. It just so happened that my sister was turning 16 and I had just learned about Ampherite in school. As any good mannered and curious child would do, I developed a plan. A genious plan, if I do say so myself. During the ceremony I would go invisible, creep along the walls and wait. Then, I would walk up behind the Mangi and snatch his wand. I would give it back soon enough. I’d just keep it long enough to feel Ampherite, the rarest material in Falka. Did I mention I live in Falka? Anyway my plan went horribly wrong.

When I was really little, my sister got all the attention. Straight A’s, good at sports, all of that stuff. I wasn’t as good in school, but I was still really bright. I devised a plan to get even a little bit of the spotlight. And it worked. Slowly, my little pink wings began turning Mischievous Green. Yet my parents didn’t even notice. That’s when I devised my greatest heist. It was about the Ampherite, but a little part of me still did it to be recognized. The camp was sort of a victory, no matter how torturous and boring it was.

As I crept along the walls, a bit of pollen fell on my nose from the trees above. My one weakness, I thought, allergies. I fought the inevitable sneeze with everything in me. I sneezed quietly. My invisibility flickered, but no one saw. I was safe. I looked around me, the big church built of marbled gold and Iron Pyrite. The grand pillars were carefully sculpted from marble. The floor was silver, with a deep, red carpet leading to the stage. The ceiling had a gaping hole in the center of it, allowing the warm air to enter. All was calm, until I arrived. I continued to inch along the wall, and my parents still hadn’t noticed I was next to them. I became weary from keeping the invisibility on for so long. As I reached the stage, I could feel the invisibility slowly weakening. The Mangi was right there. My legs weary, I crept across the stage. I snuck up behind him and froze.

“It appears we have a troublemaker in our midst.”

He looked directly at me, and winked. He whispered, “Us Mangi are immune to powers. I could see you the whole time. Also, bless you.”

I blushed, and slowly crept off the stage, but he grabbed my leather jacket.

“No, young lady, you aren’t going anywhere. The only place you will be going is Camp Ghard.”

And that’s the terrific and underwhelming story of how I got here. Surprise! Now, I’m going to go plan my escape from this prison. See you later!

I walked through the gates and already knew how this was going to go. “Hey newbie,” a boy in scales yelled at me. “Why don’t you show us why you here.” “She looks like she wants to run back to her fairy godmother,” yelled a girl with an eagle on her soilder. I rolled my eyes. “Fine. I got in trouble for impersonating and stealing.” I shifted my body. I now looked like the animal girl and her eagle flew to my shoulder. “I’m what you call a thief. Not only can I make myself look like you, I can have your powers too.”