Breaking Free (2 page)

Chapter 2
:  July 18 (Day 1)

Left, right, left, right
.
  I had to put all my attention into the simple task of placing one foot in front of the other in order to distract myself from the bleak reality that had become my life that day.  Every few steps, the tight grip on my thoughts slipped away and I became all too aware of the shooting pain in my feet.  I gritted my teeth, looked to the sky, and forced my mind to return to the mantra that was saving me from a complete breakdown in front of the seven strangers.  
Left, right, left …

“
We’ll stop here for lunch,” Chris said, interrupting my mantra.  Her caramel-colored skin had only the faintest sheen of sweat and her shiny black hair was securely fastened in a ponytail, not a strand out of place.  That annoyed the hell out of me.  I was dripping wet and my hair was so frizzed it looked like I had stuck my finger in an outlet.  She also had perfect posture and muscular arms and legs, like a soldier.  That annoyed me even more.  Just because she was big and strong didn’t mean I’d be intimidated by her.

T
he other counselor, Jason, and five teenagers dropped their packs and searched for a rotten stump or moss-covered fallen tree where they could rest.  I stood still—if I sat down, there was a good chance I wouldn’t be able to stand back up.  I looked at the motley crew of teenage troublemakers and wondered why I was the only one having problems.  Good ol’ Neeky, who had to be at least 250 pounds, was red-faced and breathing hard, but that was it.  Everyone else seemed totally fine.  Even Mia, who didn’t look like she had an ounce of muscle on her, wasn’t on the verge of tears like me.

“
Kelsie, get a sandwich,” Chris ordered.

“Not hungry,”
I replied.

“I don’t care.  This is all you’ll get until tonight.”

I threw my pack on the ground and dramatically lowered myself to a stump as the only act of defiance I could think of.  I narrowed my eyes and challenged Chris to fight me.  She smiled and went back to her food.

I
was shocked by how easy that was and thought maybe this whole ordeal wouldn’t be so bad.  Chris tried to play the tough girl, but maybe she wouldn’t be a match for an angst-ridden teenager from California.  That gave me some hope that the next thirty days might not be quite as horrible as I’d anticipated—painful, exhausting, and mind-numbingly boring, but not completely horrendous.

Still feeling triumphant,
I pulled off my shoes to find the source of the pain.  Peeling away my socks, I groaned at the state of my feet.  I had blisters on both heels and big toes, as well as the bottom of my right foot.  To make matters worse, my sock was stuck to the blister on the bottom of my foot.  I tried to ease it off, but it wouldn’t budge.  Assuming the Band-Aid principle applied, I took a deep breath and yanked it with all my force.  There was a brief moment when I felt nothing, but that only lasted for a fraction of a second.  Then, it felt like I stuck my foot in a fire.  My vision went blurry. A violent, blood-curdling scream involuntarily escaped my lips.  Gasping for breath, I cradled my foot in my hands and rocked back and forth on the stump.

“
Shit, shit, shit, that hurts,” I complained staring at the bright pink spot that was now oozing something.  I looked up and noticed that I had become the center of attention—all six pairs of eyes were staring at me.

Just perfect
, I thought. 
I really am the weakling here.
  To keep up some façade of my toughness, I said to the group, “I’m fine.”

“Great.  Then let’s
move on,” Chris said with her annoying smile.

I
moaned and winced as I stepped into my right shoe.  Standing gingerly, I tested my foot to see how bad the pain was.  It was bad.  I decided there was no way I’d be wearing shoes until the blisters healed so I removed the shoe, tied them both to my pack, and put my socks back on my feet.  I didn’t even want to think about what it would feel like the next time I pulled them off.  I figured I might end up wearing those socks for the rest of my life.  They were a nice tan color, very neutral.  They could go with anything.

Balancing
my pack on the stump, I squatted down to place my arms through the shoulder straps.  I immediately knew something was wrong when I tried to stand.  The weight must have shifted because I was off-balance.  I tried to counteract the pack, but overcompensated and fell to my knees, catching myself with my hands.  I turned one hand over and saw bloody scratches and gravel embedded in my palm.  I had only been out there for four hours and my body was already a mess.  There was no way I was going to last a month.  I looked up and saw that the group had already assembled and was walking away from me.  Cursing under my breath, I tried to stand up quickly, but the weight was too much and I fell backwards, landing on my pack with arms and legs flailing.

I
couldn’t believe how much I despised my life right then.  How much I despised my parents for shipping me there.  How much I despised the cheerful Chris and others who didn’t have any problem carrying their gear.  Tears welled up in my eyes and I didn’t even try to fight them.  I closed my eyes and sobbed loudly since no one was around to hear.  My nose started running and I wiped it with my shirtsleeve, as my gasping sobs became quiet whimpers.

“Are you
about done?” a deep voice with a noticeable southern drawl asked from above me.  His accent was similar to what I had been hearing since arriving in North Carolina, although not nearly as thick as some people.

Startled, I open
ed my eyes to find Juicehead leaning over me with his dark hand looking even darker against the pale pink of my pack.  In one swift move, he lifted me to my feet, pulled the pack off my arms, and put his arms through the shoulder straps so he was carrying it in front while his pack was on his back.

“I thought everyone left me,”
I replied, quickly wiping the tears from my face.

“
You thought wrong.”

“Give me my pack.”

“You can barely carry it when we’re going slow.  How are you going to carry it when we jog to catch up with the group?”

“I can do it,”
I said, straightening my shoulders.

“Yeah, yeah.  I’m sure you can,” he
said, pushing me forward.

As much as
I didn’t want to seem like a wuss, I was really grateful for his help, not that I’d ever let him know.  I moved as quickly as I could on my injured feet, but it ended up being more half skipping, half speed-walking, rather than jogging.

“This pack has to weigh as much as you. 
Why’d you bring so much?” he asked casually.

I didn’t bother responding.

As we continued hiking, I couldn’t believe that Chris and Jason let us fall so far behind.  After a few minutes, though, I realized that wasn’t really the case.  When we turned a corner, Jason was standing there on the trail.  I looked down the mountain and saw he had a direct view of my meltdown.  Just great.  I expected some sort of lecture from him, but he let us pass and then fell in line behind us.  I guess I shouldn’t have been too surprised.  Other than his name, he hadn’t said a word to us.  It seemed like Chris was in charge and Jason was her silent sidekick.

Within
half an hour, we caught up to the group.  No one seemed to notice we were missing or that we’d rejoined them.  Or maybe they were too afraid to say anything since we weren’t allowed to talk.  Chris made it very clear that until she said otherwise, we could only address her, not each other.  She also provided the one simple rule we were to adhere to:  do whatever she said whenever she said it.  Like we were in boot-camp or something.  What was she going to do?  Make us run laps if we didn’t listen to her?  My blood boiled whenever I thought of the self-righteous way she spoke to us.  She had another thing coming if she thought I’d just sit back and take her shit.  Surely the others felt the same, unless they were too self-consumed by their own personal demons that were supposed to be exorcised by the get-back-to-nature therapy.  The one good thing about this morning was that we got a little insight into what those demons might be while Chris ransacked our belongings.

She pulled each of us to the front of the room one by one with our things.  Then, she went through each item.  Illegal items were thrown into the trash, prohibited items were placed in a box we’d receive when the program was over, and all other items were added to a backpack.  While I didn’t agree with the complete lack of privacy this process provided, it was probably the best way to get to know my fellow troublemakers.  With each item that came out of someone’s bag, I felt like I was getting a glimpse inside his or her head.  Since Chris had yet to provide names, I used this information to come up with appropriate nicknames to keep everyone straight.

The first guy up was
average height and round with stringy brown hair hanging over the edges of his glasses.  Chris pulled items out of his bag and quickly segregated them to the correct area.  Handheld PlayStation, box of Moon Pies, and a phone to the confiscated box; a bunch of t-shirts and khaki hiking pants to his backpack.  I was really confused as to why he was there—he didn’t seem to have any self-destructive habits or built-up rage; he was just a nerdy geek who liked junk food and video games.  So, I named him Neeky and figured he would be absolutely no help in rebelling against Chris.

She
then motioned to a tall, dark, lean, and muscular guy with an oversized t-shirt, baggy pants hanging halfway down his ass, and enough gold chains to cover tuition at most community colleges.   He went to the front and she confiscated his chains, a pocketknife, some brass knuckles, and a phone.  A bottle of Hennessy went into the trash.  I named him Bling and struggled with conflicting thoughts on whether he might be useful in my fight against Chris or if he’d just end up killing me.  In the end, I decided to watch him closely.

Then it was
my turn.  I wheeled my two suitcases to the front and stood with my arms crossed, head tilted, and foot tapping.  Chris glanced at my foot and then asked for my left hand.  I reluctantly held it out to her and she fingered the wide silver bracelet on my wrist.  She turned my arm over, slid the bracelet up slightly, and then looked into my eyes.

“You can keep this,” she said,
still holding my gaze.  My anger blazed again.  Of course I could keep it—it was my bracelet.  She then opened my bags.  Cigarettes were thrown out and a pocketknife, cuticle scissors, razor blades, and an iPhone were confiscated.

“
You have a lot of clothes, makeup, and toiletries,” she said.  “You might want to consider leaving some of this here so it doesn’t weigh you down.”

“Thanks for the suggestion,”
I had replied with a smirk.

Now, a
fter being out in the woods hiking for hours and developing blisters, I was annoyed and frustrated because Chris was right.  I wasn’t able to carry my pack.  I completely tore up my feet and hands and allowed another camper to see me crying when I tried to do it.  Then he ended up carrying my pack and I looked weak and incapable.

I
glanced behind me and said, “Give me my pack.”

Juicehead motioned
with his eyes up to Chris at the front of the line.  He was afraid to talk.

“Get real.  You’re afraid of her?  I haven’t listened to her all day and she hasn’t done anything to me.  Now hand it over.”  I stop
ped walking, put my hands on my hips, and blocked his way.

He smiled, shook
his head no, and picked me up by the waist to move me to the side.

I clench
ed my fists and screamed in frustration.  Nobody bothered to turn around and look.  After a few moments, I realized I’d be left there with Jason if I didn’t catch up with the group.  But, maybe that wasn’t so bad.  I didn’t have any food, but surely Jason did.  He wouldn’t let me starve.  The only problem was I didn’t have my pack.  That meant I didn’t have warm clothes.  Or a tent.  Or even shoes.  “Dammit,” I said under my breath and hobbled along to catch up with everyone else.

I
was behind Juicehead again and had to stare at his broad shoulders, bulging leg muscles, and dark curly hair that was only about an inch away from being an afro.  I thought back to when Chris went through his things.  I fully expected a bunch of steroids to be thrown out, but all she confiscated was a handful of condoms.  Quite the Casanova, wasn’t he? Then it all made sense.  That’s why he was carrying my pack—he thought he’d get lucky.

“
You could be the last man in this forest and I wouldn’t do it with you!” I yelled ahead at the massive body in front of me.

W
ithout turning around, he raised his arm and flipped me off.  I was shocked.  That was the first bit of emotion I had seen from anyone.  Maybe he was the ticket to bringing down Chris.

We arrived at a clearing a
couple hours later.  The group was silent the whole time other than Neeky complaining that he was tired.  I was grateful that someone else finally admitted the hike was getting to them.  And that he disobeyed Chris’s no-talking rule.  It was beginning to look like Neeky might be my kind of person after all.