Sorry – that was unnecessary.
I can’t believe the kids have been here for almost ten days. I’m so SO exhausted. And things with Mum??? Yep. I’m very stiff. Just writing this I can feel myself getting stiff. But okay, I’ll let it out. Here’s essentially my life in camp, day in, day out:
6 a.m. – Wake up. I KNOW!
6.30 a.m. – Try and talk to Mum over breakfast, but instead have to put up with Bumface Kevin poking his bumchinny bumchin in and never leaving us to ourselves.
7 a.m. – Feed the kids breakfast. Fight urge to tip oatmeal over the kids.
8 a.m. – ACTIVITIES i.e. how can we torture Amber some more?
10 a.m. – Break. Try to get some time alone with Mum. Blocked by eight million children, well, my group of about twenty, all wanting me to draw Harry Potter tattoos on their arms with biro.
10.30-1 p.m. – MORE ACTIVITIES. Spend most of the time trying not to look at Kyle…and then get annoyed at myself for realizing I do really quite fancy him.
1 p.m. – Lunch. Otherwise known as "Melody shares a sex story when the kids are too busy eating hamburgers to hear" time. Mum and Kevin go and eat lunch by themselves in the cabin, while I have to help in the canteen.
2-4 p.m. – Run my art class. To be fair, I do get to spend time with Mum here. But we’re too busy trying to stop the kids painting their entire hands with PVA glue so they can peel it off (don’t blame them – most satisfying thing EVER).
4-5 p.m. – Chill out time. This is where I tend to hang with my new amazing pal, Whinnie, and discuss women’s rights – while also trying not to look at Kyle, who keeps coming over to listen.
5-6 p.m. – Dinner time. I never want to eat macaroni and cheese ever again.
6-9 p.m. – Some sort of organized chaos, involving fire and singing.
9-10 p.m. – Try to get the frickin’ runts to go to sleep.
10 p.m. onward – Try and talk to Mum, try and hang out with Mum, but always, always, the Bumface is lurking and she doesn’t seem to care.
11 p.m. – Sketch in my room, try not to cry…go to sleep…
I wish I could watch those movies, Evie, – but alas! No such technology exists in the mountains. Prom King is SO confusing though! If he wasn’t so darn NICE, I would put him down on the headfuck list, along with Guy and others. Like, he’s always walking me back to my cabin in the dark. Or sitting next to me at dinner. Or coming and sitting with me when I can’t handle the sports section of the day because I’m so unfit and declare myself a political abstainer. (Note: American football is even worse and more boring than British football.)
Why do I have to fancy someone? I’m so mad at myself. I’m not here for that. And, look, I’ve just written a whole email to you about it, like some totally basic female fuckwit, when I should be asking you about your life…or, you know, fighting the patriarchy or whatever.
TELL ME ABOUT YOUR LIFE. I DO CARE!
Amber x
From: LottieIsAlwaysRight
To: LongTallAmber
Subject: Welcome to Headfuck Land
It’s both Lottie AND EVIE here.
But it’s me, Lottie, who is doing all the hard work of typing.
And can I just say: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
WELCOME TO THE HEADFUCK LAND OF BOYS, YOU WONDERFUL LITTLE HYPOCRITE, YOU!
Do you not remember THE LECTURES you gave us last year? About how much we were whinging about the complex and compulsive-worrying behaviour of men? And DIDN’T WE TELL YOU how hard it is to maintain one’s dignity and ability to think of useful things when boys we like behave all boy-like?
Welcome to karma, Amber…
Mwhahahaha.
Sorry – I just needed to get that out. We love you. We’re here for you. It’s just quite strange, seeing you crumple under the pressure, when you’ve always been so noble. To be fair, I have seen the arms on that guy, and if he was walking me ANYWHERE, I’d be thinking about it. A lot. Alone.
Just remember our advice. Be you. You are kick-ass and amazing.
Sorry things are tough with your mum. Do you need to talk about it some more? Remember she’s just probably got a really set "routine" that she needs to stay healthy or something, and maybe it’s taking her a while to adjust. As for Kevin, that’s not fair that he won’t let you have alone time. I can see how annoying that is, especially as you hate him so much. She loves you though. Who couldn’t love you, you frizzy wonder?
Oh yeah, that reminds me, I bumped into your dad and Penny in Sainsbury’s the other day (how exciting is my life?) and they asked me to ask you why you’re not replying to their emails. Amber, why aren’t you replying to their emails? Now, I’ve done it…I’m just going to back away with my hands up in the air because I know what you get like when Penny is involved… Maybe just send the one though?
We have no news. It’s rained here too much for anyone to do anything that makes news.
Keep us updated on you.
Lots of love,
Lottie and Evie (and cheesy snacks)
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
SITUATIONS THAT ARE DESTINED TO FAIL:
Drawing straws
+
Bad tempers
Sixteen
Russ carefully hid three long straws among the bundle of short ones in his hand.
We had only a moment’s peace, while the kids were still smearing chocolate pudding down themselves, to decide this.
“I don’t trust you, man.” Kyle made to grab the straws. “I know how much you want this.”
Russ twisted his hand behind his back. “We all want this. I swear, if I don’t have a break from Martin’s screaming and get a good night’s sleep soon, I’m gonna go mad.”
After fourteen days of solid work, The Weekend Cover were arriving. High school students who came and did our jobs for us for two days so we could sleep, and rest, and leave the actual confines of the camp. But only a few of us could go… We had to alternate weekends.
“Martin still having bad dreams?” I asked. Russ had been complaining about Martin since day one. Apparently he woke up every night, screaming the cabin down, waking everyone else up.
Russ nodded grimly. “Every night… Man, I hate that kid.”
“RUSS!” Whinnie and I scolded.
“He is really bad,” Kyle said. “I can hear him from my cabin sometimes.”
“Well, what’s wrong with him? Surely he must be disturbed or something?”
Russ shook his head. “Nah, he’s just a wimp.”
“Hey,” Whinnie and I said at the same time.
“Okay, whatever,” Russ said. “Can we just pick a straw already?”
He arranged them carefully in his gripped hand, making them all line up at exactly the right height. “How do we decide who picks first?”
“We draw straws?” I joked, but Russ looked confused by that. “Never mind…it was just a joke.”
“It doesn’t matter –” Kyle went to grab one – “statistically it makes no difference at all.”