This is an ORIGINAL piece of fiction that I worked HOURS on. Do NOT steal it. I had better not find this on another site with names changed and such. It's rude and cruel. It's also called plagiarism! Enjoy the fiction, don't steal it.
As far as I'm concerned, any story that starts out by a character moving into a new neighborhood or state is just a stupid way to start a book. I can actually guess the ending in the book; that's how typical it is. She'll meet this new guy who makes her feel so different and become friends with the female 'outcast' that no one talks to in high school. She'll end up going through an 'emotional' or 'traumatic' experience and in the end; it all works out for the better. Jesus, why can't anyone come up with anything original anymore? Why must every author write a book about a female character that's just so likeable and plain and yet ends up being the 'girl who gets the guy'? Is it so they can imagine themselves as the female character they've concocted? Seriously?
No, it gets worse. Sometimes, in the stories the evil villain will be the beautiful blonde cheerleader who's secretly out to get the girl who stole the affections of her boyfriend. That one gets me every time, it's not even funny. Why must the evil villain be the blonde? Why is it that every young adult book has a white protagonist? Or sometimes to get away from scrutiny, they'll launch a black character in the book that's a complete stereotype? Yes, because every black girl says 'yo' or 'shawty' or 'ain't'. Oh, society how you have grown.
I know this is a complete ramble of what to avoid reading or let's face it…your guilty pleasure. Hey, I don't blame you, I've read them myself. But, there did come a moment in my life where I realized, ''Am I seriously reading the same storyline for the 100th time?'' Epiphany.
I'm going to tell you my story. Now, it may sound exactly like what I just told you to avoid or it may sound like it has absolutely nothing to do with what I just said. Which one? That's for you to decide.
Catskills Mountains. That's where I was going to go. No, I wasn't going to move there. It was just a two-month summer camp trip for me to enjoy. Did I want to go? No. Did I have a choice? Yes.
''I can't send you to Australia. We went to England.'' My mom said.
''You mean YOU. You and dad. I stayed here in school. Yeah, I can feel like the fucking appreciation.'' I stated calmly. She was getting blurry while my eyes were burning with tears.
''You don't like your uncles or aunts. You would've been miserable regardless.''
''So I'm going to fucking catskills, legit?"
"Stop cursing. I hear it enough from your brother.''
''I'm going to fucking catskills?" I screamed.
"If you want to stay here and continue school, you can. Your friends are gone, your brother is off to camp and I'll be here. Decision is yours.''
So as you can see, I had a choice. Stay at home and kill myself or go to the Catskills and kill myself. If I'm going to die, it's not going to be near my parent's.
Three years ago, my dad invited his friend over for dinner; a friend he hadn't seen in 10 years. They hit it off and it wasn't long after that, that his family came over. They had a daughter who was about a year older than me and two young boys and an older son. They were a nice family and we always managed to have our vacations alongside theirs. About two years ago, they moved upstate. Despite the distance, their daughter, Rivera, and I continually e-mailed each other. We were really good friends and it was a shame we couldn't see each other regularly. I had told her that one of these months or days we could vacation together. She didn't reply back for couple of months until late spring, my mom called me and told me Rivera was going to vacation with me. I was excited till I realized that it was all a farce. I was going to see her, but it would be in the Catskills. It would involve me walking around, making new friends and being in the sun. Digusting. And yet somehow, I end up in the airport, boarding my plane, sitting down for less than two hours to get to this place.
Eyes closed with headphones on and music up to 86%. Despite that, I could hear her voice. Loud, bubbly and preppy. She had eaten six bars of Almond Joy and it only increased the presence of her inner child. She tapped my headphones.
I pushed my headphone to the side of my right ear. "What?"
"I love your nails!" she said. Her blonde ponytail bouncing as she plopped on her seat.
"I love purple, but I never tried magenta. Is it magenta? I put on iron silver, the new shade for the Lennox line but I wanted the purple slosh. They might have a magenta slosh? Is that the color? Magenta slosh? Slosh? I love saying that word." She smiled. She placed her elbow on my armchair and held her chin in her hand waiting expectantly for an answer.
I stared hard at her silver glittered nails and her silver glittered lips. Her hair was pale blonde covered with odd brown highlights.
"It's a weird purple I guess. I never really looked at the bottle." I shrugged.
She smiled wide, "Like my hair?"
She must've noticed my stare, I answered, ''Yeah, but I like it. It's—"
"Coming off. I had them done months ago, but after I read the C.A.R.P guidelines I basically had to scrub them off with bleach and other stuff." She tightly pulled her hair into a ponytail, making the highlights a little less noticeable.
"Carp?" I asked.
"C.A.R.P. Don't you know—" she reached down to tug at the red fish keychain hanging off my backpack. My mom put it on my backpack before I boarded my flight.
We both looked up to see the flight attendant with a small cart of complementary drinks. Time to get buzzed.
"Shirley Temple, please?" she asked the flight attendant. I couldn't help but notice that she had an odd sweet addiction by the clutter of empty drinks on her tray. More Shirley Temples for her perky up-beat behavior?
"I'll take—" I glanced at the tray with a frown on my face. There was no sign of alcoholic beverages. "Coke."
She handed me my coke and asked for some snacks. I took a bag of chips and perky-pants took another Almond Joy bar.
"You must love chocolate." I took a drink from my cup and stuffed a handful of chips in my mouth.
She blushed and answered, "C.A.R.P. guidelines say—Oh! I never told you about C.A.R.P.? I thought you were a part of it too since you had the keychain and locket."
Ignoring the fact that she ignored my statement, I asked, "What locket?"
She reached out to pull on my locket.
I touched my fish-shaped necklace and said, "My mom gave it to me."
"It's C.A.R.P." she smiled. Her ponytail was bouncing with perkiness as she nodded her head in conclusion.
C.A.R.P. I had heard of it before, but mostly carp like magic carp from Pokémon. Or like fishing carp from the discovery channel. C.A.R.P.?
Reading the confused look on my face, she said, "Catskills and Rebels in Perpetuity."
"Rebels for eternity?" Oh, how appropriate you are Karma.
She gulped down half her Shirley temple, and licked her lips. "You must be a member. You couldn't have gotten the locket without being one."
I shifted in my seat. Deep inside the pit of my stomach, I knew I wasn't going to like what I was going to hear.
"It's a program or more like a club for girls and guys to enrich themselves in nature."
Chips stuffed in my mouth, I asked, "Nature?"
She nodded, "Yeah. Basically we dance, swim, camp out, and tell stories, climb, and build things — it's really kind of exclusive. It's for kids to relax and leave the whole crazy life behind and kind of settle down a bit." She took the last bite of her candy bar and stuffed the wrapper into one of her empty cups.
"So it's another friggin' camping trip?" I scoffed.
Eyes bulged, she shook her head. "No! It's like a sisterhood. We make friends and free ourselves in the outdoors. We learn to open our minds and divulge into natures arms!"
I inched farther from her seat. Her perkiness was replaced by desperation. She really wanted me to believe in this crap that was probably forced on her by her mother or ''the sisterhood.'' Yeah, sure. Let's not forget Dario Argento's infamous sisterhood in ''Suspiria.'' Ah, shit. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts…
"What's wrong?" she rubbed my shoulder. I moved out of her reach. I didn't like people touching me except for people I knew or trusted. Both were technically mutually exclusive.
"Sorry. I just had bad thoughts." I rubbed my forehead trying to forget about the movie and the creepy maggot scene. Ah! Dammnit.
"Awww. You'll fit right in! Don't worry about it—" she cocked her head to the side. "I'm sorry I forgot your name."
Shaking my head from an awful mental picture, I answered, "Because I didn't mention it. It's Visnja. Visnja Novak."
"Ooooh. How exotic! My name is Malorie. But everyone just calls me Mal." She offered me her hand. I shook it and instantly felt sweat drip poured onto my palms.
"Oh! Can I have another Shirley temple, please?" Malorie asked the flight attendant. I swiped my palm on my jeans and reached for the sanitizer in my hand. I rubbed my hands profusely hoping to get off any reminiscent of sweat off my hand. Disgusting.
After she got her drink, she smiled at me with her red-stained lips.
"Visnja? That's kinda like Vishnu?"
"Visnja is a Croatian name." I said. I put the sanitizer back in my bag and realized there were thin spiral books stuffed inside. Mom. I pulled them out and read C.A.R.P. on the front. I might as well get familiar with the enemy.
"I never really had a friend from Croatia. I did have a Ukrainian best friend! We only met once though. We met at Comic Con in New York. So much fun! –"
I flipped through the pages trying to grasp what I was getting myself into. There were a lot of rules and regulations. Apparently there were old 'laws' and new 'laws.' Ironically, the newer laws were stricter than the old ones. No dying your hair, no revealing clothing during 'reading time', no fishing till 'fishing time', no public displays of affections (PDA), lady-like or gentlemen-like behavior must be upheld…
"I actually learned a bit Ukrainian myself. Technically, I also learned some Russian. They tend to have the same vocabulary. I like Russia, its cold but you know? The accents are amazing. I love accents. You don't seem to have an accent though. And also –"
It seemed unusual for a camp to have these kinds of rules. The rules sounded more like it was built for a fraternity than a normal camp. The upside of all this was the nice cabins, great lakes, amazing pools, and the food looked delicious. I opened up the other book, this one being a bit heavier and thicker. A red fish drawn on the cover, I realized this must be their insignia. Inside the book were photos of girls laughing and playing near the lake. They all seemed fairly happy and nothing seemed out of place. Nothing in the book mentioned I had to clean or run or make myself do any extraneous activities.
"But you know you don't really seem that Croatian?"
I looked up and realized she was still talking to me. "What?"
"You don't seem very Croatian?" she cocked her head to one side trying to figure out what I was. Most people had a habit of trying to ask around what I was. As if I wasn't really Croatian. That did have some merit considering that most Croatians had either dark hair or blonde hair. The majority of them they were white. I was tanned, had dark brown hair and my eyes had a slight tilt.
"My mom is Mongolian." I flipped through some more pages and found a list of counselors and declared 'groups' I was suppose to memorize, or at least that's what the book said.
Her eyes widened. "Wow. Mongolian and Croatian. That's a weird mix."
I had to admire her bluntness. Most people would nod or say something nice, as if they understood how 'normal' it was. It wasn't. Even my own parent's knew how bizarre they were. My dad especially, he always had an itch when it came to following societal 'norms.' I loved him. My dad, despite his eccentricities, was madly in love with my mom. They were so adorable it was almost sappy.
I looked up from my book, "Why?"
"My mom always told me I always put my foot in my mouth. I didn't mean to sound stupid." She frowned and started to play with her empty cups while avoiding my gaze.
"It's okay. You were just being honest." I shrugged. "It is a weird combination."
She smiled. "Thanks." Her shoulders were slightly hunched and her cheeks flushed.
"What?" It came out sharp. I was annoyed when people tried to hide what they were feeling. It was always something I could read.
She flinched. "Nothing," she replied meekly.
"Clearly it's nothing. You might as well say what you're feeling." I rolled my eyes and suddenly caught the attention of a bag with the same fish keychain I had on my bag. I couldn't see the passenger except her arm draped off her armchair. She had mocha skin and a very shiny ring on her middle finger. Her nails were neatly manicured.
"Well, it's just—I realized I shouldn't open my mouth as much as I should. The guild lines were pretty clear on what we should say. And the more I talk—"
The passengers around us were all mostly asleep. It was still very early in the morning even with the sun shining so brightly. Some of the passengers were elderly and the others young. So far, I counted at least 11 people with the same keychain hanging off their hand bag or having the C.A.R.P book on their lap. 7 guys and 4 girls.
I nodded. "Yeah."
"Great. So we'll be partners!"
I did a double-take. Wait, what partners?
Good morning all passengers. It is currently 78 degrees with not a cloud in sight. The time is 7:37 a.m .and we will be landing shortly. Please close all trays and buckle your seatbelts and thank you for flying Delta. Have a pleasant flight.