Please read and review this story to tell me what you think of it, I could always use some tips for improving my stories. Just don't tell me to change the story, because the entire story is planned out and nothing you say will make me change what's going to happen. And when reviewing, as I've stated, I'll read and review a story of yours as well. (If there's more than one, you can tell me which one you want me to review, and if you don't, I'll review the most recent one.) And the way you review my story will determine the way I review yours. If you give me a simple answer like "Good work.", then you can expect something like that from me. But if you really give me well thought out praise and criticism, I'll do the same.

Anyway, enough of that. Here's chapter one of Camp Glaregon.

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"Mike, what did you get for problem number thirteen?" Ross asked at the beginning of math class. "That was the only problem I got stuck on."

Mike froze up. "Problem thirteen? What do you mean?"

"On the homework," Ross responded. "What did you get for an answer?"

Mike gulped. "I didn't know we had homework."

"Are you serious, Mike?" Ross asked, his green eyes widening. "You realize Mrs. Getsam is going to have your head for this?"

"Quick, Ross, what pages was the homework on?"

"Mike, we had thirty problems. There's no way you're going to get them done before the teacher comes to check the homework in two minutes."

Mrs. Getsam walked into the classroom shortly afterward, pulled out her maroon grade book and started to check the students' homework. She was a darker-skinned woman and looked very professional. Her classroom looked pretty typical; posters on the wall promoting math, history, science and literature. The desks were arranged in a four-by-five pattern, sitting in front of the blackboard. The teacher's desk was to the side.

When she saw Mike didn't have his homework, she clearly was not too pleased.

"Michael, this is the sixth day in a row you don't have homework in," she said with an exasperated sigh. "And you've only done two of the last ten assignments I have handed out. Well?"

Mike was starting to get nervous. He tugged at the collar on his t-shirt as he tried to think up an excuse. "My…uh, grandpa died last night and I was at a funeral."

Ross couldn't help but start laughing to himself at Mike's inept ability to lie to a teacher about why he didn't have his homework in.

"I've had enough of you not doing your homework and your lies. Get out of my classroom and go down to the office," Mrs. Getsam said as she scribbled something next to Mike's name in the grade book.

Mike got up with an annoyed look on his face and walked out into the hall, only being able to hear the echoing of his shoes on the tiled floor. Mr. Dozzom, the school principal, was not someone who you'd want to make angry.

Mike walked into the office, and it came as no surprise to Mr. Dozzom to see him there. The office was very small and barely could fit the giant desk on it. Mr. Dozzom was sitting there with his hands clasped together on a wooden desk littered with papers and an outdated computer.

"You didn't do your homework, did you?" Mr. Dozzom demanded. He was a man in his late fifties with glasses, a bald head with a few gray hairs and some liver spots on his head. "Michael, why do you insist on not doing your homework? You realize it's only hurting you, don't you?"

"Yes," Mike said, sighing. "But it's only a grade in a class, it's not anything too important.

"Every grade is important, Michael," he said. "If you don't pay attention in school, you won't get a good job, you won't get a good life, you'll make lousy wages for hard work, you'll…"

The phone rang, interrupting Mr. Dozzom in the middle of his speech. He picked it up and said "Mr. Dozzom speaking."

It was not long before Mr. Dozzom got angry and slammed the phone down on the hook. He just sighed, covered his eyes with his hand, as just as he was about to start lecturing Mike again, Mike asked "Who was that on a phone?"

"It was an automated voice message reminding me of that stupid Academathon our town is holding next week…for the fourth time this month," Mr. Dozzom said sighing. He looked like he was ready to continue lecturing Mike, but he stopped. "Sit in that chair until the period ends," Mr. Dozzom said, sighing, pointing to a chair in a corner of his office.

Mike obeyed, and for forty-five minutes, he just sat there, waiting for the bell to ring. When the bell finally rang, he bolted out of the room and to his next class. He grabbed his stuff from Mrs. Getsam's class and headed down the long hall, fighting his way through the cramped hallways and backpacks.

When Mike walked into his next class, Ross had already gotten there and sat down. Mike pulled a seat up next to him, because Ross was Mike's only friend in that class.

"Hey," Ross said. "What'd Mr. Dozzom do to you?"

"Ah, nothing," Mike said. "He just made me sit in a chair in his office for the entire time. He was going to give me a huge lecture on how I'm hurting my future by not doing homework, but luckily for me, I didn't have to listen to it."

"Why not?"

"Well," Mike started. "Because the phone rang and it interrupted him, so he never finished what he was saying."

"Who was on the phone?"