“Stealing candy from babies!”
Little Jim’s voice rang in my ears, along with the sobbing of the effusive girl behind me. I exchanged an annoyed glance with Rachel, then turned to look at the rest of the people who were stuffed inside the office like sardines in a can. After an excessivley long speech about “guilty by association”, we filed out of the sweaty room and out into the fresh air of the camp. It was when we sat down at the pick-knick tables that the tears hit me. It was pretty embarassing – having my favorite little campers coming up to me and asking me what was wrong with wide, frightened eyes. This was the one time in my life when I had been thoroughly misunderstood. Although the whole thing was a sham, who knew it would stick with me long after that.
It was the last day of camp, and meant to be the best one. Rachel, my new found friends, and I were all broiling under the sun with nothing to do (Since we were Jr. C.I.T’s, we weren’t used to so much freedom). Just another lazy summer day. So we asked Ceaser, our “counselor”, if you will, if we could hang out in the mini campers cabin, which was conveniently air conditioned. We sat on the sofas and floor, just talking. Two other girls we knew, but weren’t really with us, were in there, too. After a while they left, and soon we followed. We went out to fields when Ceaser drove by on his little golf cart, and nonchalantly told us we were written up in the book for “going through peoples stuff” and taking the twizzlers from the mini campers”. I didn’t even know there were twizzlers in there…We were all shocked, and I personally, was hurt. I’d never gotten in trouble at camp before. Disgruntled, we lumbered up to the office and got the scolding of a life time. The berating was over the top. Apparantley the two girls in there before us thought we were the ones who ate the twizzlers, when it was two other girls the whole time, and that we were going through peoples’ stuff. They definetley misunderstood us on that one.
I’ll have to admit, I think the “going through peoples’ stuff” bit was my fault. I saw a girl’s phone on the table, and because we were exchanging phone numbers, I thought it was one of my friend’s. So I picked it up and asked who’s it was, only to get yelled at by the girl who later told on us. She took it that I was going through others’ belongings, and even stretched the what she thought she saw when she was telling the office about it. The anger was one thing, but the embarassment and shame of all the eyes of my new made friends (who happened to be the counselors of the mini campers) on me as tears streamed down my face was another. That may have been the worst day of my life, and the most misunderstood. What a great way to wrap up my summer!
