.:Diamonds in the {Rough} // Dreamers

[Stare]

I've had just about enough
Of quote "diamonds in the rough"
Because my back-bone is paper thin
Get me out of this cavern or I'll cave in

A camping trip.

Annoyance prickles behind my gaze while I watch our teacher pack the last of his things into an already overstuffed bag, the canvas strained. Our shadows are cast dark and icy against the spill of sunlight on the concrete pathway in front of the school, as different in shape and size as we are. My gaze sweeps around the ring of teenagers, inspecting each one closely before I roll my eyes and move on to the next. Silence hangs thick in the air, seemingly awkward to all except the cheerful middle aged man in the center of us, apparently struggling a great deal with the zipper. I love Mr. Meyers. I honestly do – he’s a good teacher and funny, too. And maybe I wouldn’t be so annoyed if I was in a group of people I actually liked. Or knew for that matter.

After a few more moments of desperate tugging and muttered curses, our teacher finally hefts his bag onto his back, wilting slightly under the weight, and I follow suit. I can understand the reasoning behind the trip, of course – I doubt many of these kids even knew that such a thing as living in the wild for a night existed before they got this assignment. I wasn’t raised in the same steam punk technology happy environment that they were, though. When these kids were being introduced to gears and wires, I was being sent down to the beach to learn how to body surf with my cousins when the waves were particularly large. When they were being shown the wonders of tools and machines, I was being shown the wonders of the rope swing. When their father showed them how to program, mine showed me how to find the best spots in the woods to pick black raspberries. I’m not a proper District Three citizen – I never have been. I don’t find myself fascinated by complexion. No, my love is born in simple beauty and the natural world, and that will be true until my final breath.

“We’ll be heading just past that hill,” Mr. Meyers points to the raised land behind the school and my heart momentarily sinks before hardening over in determination. There’s no describing the frustration I find in the never ending battle between my body and my mind. It seems like skeletal limbs and paper skin can never live up to the high expectations I hold for myself, but I’d rather be broken and bruised before even giving in to the weakness. I say that its instinct to want to fight myself, but Alex calls it yet another matter of my stupid pride. Sometimes, at night, when my joints groan their protest at even the slightest movement, I wonder if she’s right.

But the moment my foot hits soft soil and grass instead of concrete, I know that it’s all worth it. The sun is just starting when we begin the hike, and the dying light cuts through the autumn leaves and sets our world aflame. The chill in the air calms my burning lungs when I begin breathing heavily, blinking back against the burning in my muscles despite the extra effort in climbing the hill being so miniscule. I used to be so full of energy when I was younger – I would have conquered this thing in two minutes flat. Now, however, I find myself lingering behind the others, needing to stop occasionally to soothe my exhaustion before continuing.

In a desperate effort to distract myself, I reach back into the pocket of my pack and pull out an already crumpled sheet of paper that Mr. Meyers handed out to us earlier, saying it was an optional form to fill out. He mentioned it having two parts; one would focus on the things we observe in nature, and the other would be about the social aspect of camping with each other. I skim over the questions now. Most of the first half is all about naming any plants or animals we can recognize and describing it. The second half, however, varies so greatly that my eyebrows gradually climb higher with every question. What are your classmates favorite colors? What do they like to do in their free time? If Mr. Meyers thinks that we’re going to be any kind of socialization while camping, he’s insane. The last question, especially, makes me scoff. What have learned about your classmates during this trip? I crumple the sheet up in my hand and consider tossing it into a nearby bush, but then remember that I do like Mr. Meyers as a teacher, and sigh before stuffing it back in my bag.

The absence of voices is almost maddening. Normally, I’d be perfectly fine with walking through the woods in silence to absorb the noises of nature, but their trampling footsteps have caused all wildlife to flee and drown out the whistling of the wind. Giving a small huff of defeat, I approach the closest figure, Jake Miller. Out of everyone here, he’ll probably be the one I can relate to best from my rebellious age. While I don’t know any of these people personally, I know them by reputation. Jake especially – he’s the one that paints on the walls and never gets caught. Remembering all the times the Keepers dove down on me for vandalism, I have to admit that I do have a hint of respect for the Miller boy. Still, I can’t help the hint of sarcasm that enters my tone when I finally manage to catch up. “Let me guess – one of your extra items that you brought is a spray paint can?”

Even as I’m saying it, I self consciously shift my own pack. Unknown to all of them, hidden within the roll of my sleeping back is one of my fairytale books. Not that any of them will ever see it - unlike Jake, I like to keep my secrets rather than have them known by all but unable to be proven. It was probably stupid of me to bring it along, but I’m going to need something to do when Mr. Meyers’ plans crash and burn and everyone is sitting around a roaring campfire in complete silence. It seems like all of us are so different, there’s only one thing we could ever agree on.

The sooner this night is over, the better.

Tie my handle bars to the stars
So I stay on track (so I stay on track)
And if my intentions trail I'll wrench them away
Then I'll take my leave and I won't even look back

[cyrus]

::Ashling Castillon::

Narration
Rumination
Speech
Other’s Speech
Shock

Ash Castillon’s cheeks had burned when Mr. Meyers mentioned that she would be one of the lucky few attending the camping trip. It was, after all, a pleasant surprise.

[/color] Why on earth would he pick her—did he even know that she existed? She had spoken exactly twice in his class this past semester. The first had been when Avery McMichaels couldn’t remember what day of the week it had been, and Ash, in all her bravery, mentioned that it was Thursday, not Wednesday[/color]. The second time had been in response to Lucia Deeny’s request if she’d had an extra pen in her desk, to which she’d said Let me check… no, I don’t.[/color] Thrilling rapport was not what Ash Castillon was known for, and in fact, she suspected she wasn’t known for very much at all.

Despite her hesitation, Ash couldn’t have been more excited for the trip. She’d spent hours at the front desk of the inn thinking about how she’d be able to go camping, sit around a fire, maybe even sing songs about district three. All of this welled up inside of her, pressure building like hot air in a steam pipe, until she burst the news to her father. My teacher wants me to do a special assignment. [/color] Her father was stacking away plates in the kitchen and getting ready to wash them in the sink. He was a thicker man, with a burly chest hidden underneath a snugly fitting tank top. He scratched at his mustache, thick like a caterpillar upon his lip, and shrugged his shoulders. Mr. Meyers thinks… well, he wanted me to come with the others, out of town. To go camping.[/color] The porcelain clacked together and there was a hiss as water came out the faucet.

Going camping meant that she wouldn’t be at the front desk to cover any guest that might come into the No Name. Her father’s inn sat at the end of a quiet street, snuggled close between two grey buildings that served as offices and bargain basement shops on the first level. Their awnings had been torn long ago and hung overhead as though weary from their lives in district three. There were cracks along the stucco walls of the exterior and brass sconces that spoke of a time gone by—one in which the inn had been a fresh new thing; quaint and charming to young couples looking for a place to honeymoon on a budget. The decades saw the paint fade and the wallpaper begin to peel off the walls. Customers still came and went, but now it was populated by those that chose to pay by the hour, or long-term elderly tenants that never so much as spoke a word to Ash.

She saw the reflection of lights against the plates as her father stocked them back into the old wooden cabinets. Please? Please it’s just for a little while, I just…[/color] He turned away from her flicking off the light in the kitchen before walking toward the entranceway as though he’d never heard her. She could feel herself grasping at straws in her mind as he wandered away. This was how it always was—this inn turned dark at night like the tomb it was, enveloping her in the silence. Mom would’ve let me go![/color] Her voice echoed off the walls as she stood, shaking, hands up to her chest as she stared hard at her father. His sneakers squeaked against the linoleum as he about faced. Well she would have…[/color] Ash looked down at the floor, then. Invoking her mother was a low blow, but it was the only thing that she could think of that would sway her father's decision—and yet it was precisely the same thing which would always keep here there.

With a clatter, Ash retrieved her knapsack from the back of Mr. Meyer’s car. She hoisted the bag over her shoulder before looking over the middle aged man and her companions. Their names were—what were they again[/color]—fuzzy and distant, much like the hill her teacher said they’d be hiking towards. The others didn’t matter so much to her. It was the chance to escape into the unknown that thrilled Ash. Every step was a wonder, every sight an excitement. The gnarled trees and the moss that collected at their bases were gorgeous to her; the air, thick with promise; the sounds of birds called out to her as if to say she had arrived. She’d spent so long trapped in her tomb that it was finally time to roll away the stone.

With all her bravery and wonder, Ash still hadn’t managed to step all the way outside. She hung close to Mr. Meyers, eyeing the rest of the students warily. Every time she caught one of their eyes she made sure to look back down at the ground and pretend she hadn’t been staring. In truth, she wanted to share in the excitement with someone[/color], if only so that she could figure out a way to explain the knots in her stomach and what mesmerized her so. There was the matter of the assignment as well—and upon looking at the questions, she most certainly would not be completing. “This is all… this is going to be great, right?” Ash got out into the air, saddling up next to Aidan. She was a little ways behind—Danny, was that right?—as well. It could’ve been directed toward anyone, really… she let the question hang though, watching as a pair of June beetles started their dance in the distance. [/blockquote][/size][/justify]

[cass]

JAGO VALOUR.

Settle down with me
Cover me up
Cuddle me in
Lie down with me
And hold me in your arms

Camping.

I cannot help myself as my lips curl in distaste; it was not a look that was that uncommon on my face. I was not one to smile, lips stretching into a goofy grin -The tug of upwards turned lips actually often hurt my perfect face- laugh and be happy about such disgusting things as camping. Although it was unusual for me to be this unhappy, in normal situations, the circumstances in which I stood right now demanded me to be filled with loathing. Glaring, I turn my cold eyes onto the others that had dared to come along and were now standing around me. I held no like or love for any of them. I, in fact, had not even met one of them (Did some of them even go to my school?), these were not people I knew, and they were not people I did anything with. My normal friends were in another group, a group I had asked to be placed in, but kindly denied. I was not one of them; I was popular, cunning, sly and smart-witted. From what I had seen –which was not very much- half of these people were the exact opposite of the person that was, me myself I Jago Valour (The boy worth more than any other person).

And then there was the camping part of this god damn trip. Camping, it involved sleeping in the bush, sleeping on dirt, twigs, and rocks, plants that could cover me with a rash with just the graze of a hand or fruits that looked perfect, but could kill me before I could whisper a word of help. And out in this world there were all kinds of animals (Stupid Capitol and their mutations, they need to learn to put them in better places, they get in the way). Animals, might I add, that would not care for a little boy that stood in their way. They merely wanted their food and they would do anything to get it, they might even eat me, they can take the others, eat those idiots, I'll shove them in front of me. I'm not food. I don’t want to be eaten by no animal; I plan on living for a very long time. It was why I hated camping. The sickness, rashes and animals, the dirt, hiking, smells and general closeness of people was just disgusting.

It was with great reluctance that I hefted my backpack onto my bag. I was not use to such a large weight on my back; I was more suited to letting others do the work for me, my brother for that matter. He was easy enough to push around. The sun sent my shadow stretching across the ground and I admired my tall figure for a brief second before I followed the rest of my class away from the school and my home. With a swift last glance I gazed back at the school, a crooked smile played upon my lips as a cliché thought crossed my mind, “would I ever return?” And to that I found no answer lingering in my mind. I was not made for the bush; I knew nothing of survival skills. All I knew was my technology; I knew how to make things with real tools, but sticks and branches? Shoulders hunched I begun to walk (From the large show of emotion you could tell I am a drama queen). I had no doubt in my mind that if I was to get lost I would not survive.

The trip to the camping place –god knows what it was called- took too long. I sat in utter silence, not saying a word, looking at no one, in particular no girls. God I hate girls. My eye brows slowly begun to rise, going higher and higher up on my forehead as I peer out and into the land that I would be staying in. For a brief pleasant moment a smile crosses my face before it is quickly, once more knitted into a scowl. I follow Mr. Meyers out onto the soft grass that littered the place, my eyes taking in the forest and the trees that towered around us like so many night mares of mine, stupid forest was going to be the death of me. The scene was however stained by the group of students that mingled on the grass, waiting for Mr. Meyers to say something, to direct them and tell them what to do. I try to resist the urge to spite out something sarcastic and stinging to them, but I resist with a sharp bite of my lip.

And then I am following them all. My back pack feels heavy on my back and I continuously shrug it onto each shoulder, spreading the weight from one side to the other, rather than keeping it on both, equally spread. None of them knew that I was gay; none of them knew that as we walked I stared unconsciously at the guys, sometimes my eyes flickered to their figures, sometimes I just tried to guess who they were, and how much I would rate them out of ten. I had never told anyone I was gay, but then I had never tried to hide it. If anyone ever snickered at me and told me that I was gay I never replied with “no I’m not” or anything stupid like that. I just accepted it, because I was gay and there was not a goddamned thing I could do to change that.

But what none of them knew was that hidden in the bottom of my bag was a bar of lip gloss. (It was very expensive designer lip gloss, the best kind. Sadly the tube was almost empty). When I was young I used my mothers and ever since I first tried it on my lips I have kept the same tube of lip gloss with me all my life. I have become obsessed with it and it makes me feel more comfortable with who I am and to be honest I go everywhere with it. Uncomfortable I shrug my back pack a bit higher onto my back. I survey the area around me, but everyone had their attention towards the others. I didn’t like not being the centre of attention. “Oi.” I call to one of the boys. I hesitate for a moment trying to remind myself of his name. ”Toss!” I call, Toss, was it? Or was it Boss? Roose? I don't know. “This camp should be pretty shit, eh?”

And your heart's against my chest, your lips pressed in my neck
I'm falling for your eyes, but they don't know me yet
And with a feeling I'll forget, I'm in love now
Kiss me like you wanna be loved
You wanna be loved

[charade]

Mr.Meyers certainly has a flair for assigning project partners at a complete randomization nearing nonsensical proportions.As the group of schoolyard teens collected the necessary equipment that their instructor had so thoughtfully set aside, Aiden grumbled quietly to himself about the very people he was now required to spend so called "quality" time with.Woe. Woe is me to have a grade perilously perched on the precipice of this purgatorial party of prancing plebians; It's nothing less than perturbing. Hmm. Is that all of them? Precipice, Perturbing... yes yes. Good. That's vocabulary out of the way, I just need a moment to jot that down, now if I can just calculate the area of those eight parallelograms I might have just enough time to start mentally writing that oral book report before that science project is due.The silence was punctuated only by the failure of several zippers to zip and the occasional sour sigh of one of the other students.

Aiden wasn't sure what the others had to complain about. Birds of a feather flocked together, and a majority of the others that the teacher had selected for this adventure were naught but a collection of juvenile delinquents, whose only post graduation options would be to begin work in a loathsome factory for minimum wage or to be carted off to the detention center for an extended stay. And juvenile they were; of his fellows, only the tall dark and brooding Wolfe boy was his age, though that had little to do with his first impressions. These people were not his friends; nay, though they shared a classroom, Aiden knew little of any of them, preferring to get his work done as soon as possible and spend the rest of the time asleep or working on one of the many other subjects he was privy to.

There was some cause for concern; If he didn't earn an A during this escapade, his parents would throw yet another hissy fit style lecture about his future or the eccentricities of his instructor. Mr.Meyers was not your average teacher and his methods sometimes left things to be desired by the adults, but Aiden could appreciate it, with the exceptions of when something directly impacted his study time. Which in turn, affected the time he had for things that were actually fun. An example of this would be the personal project he was working on. About a week ago, he had come across an antique watch run by gears and a small crank that was in dire need of a repair, but he dared not bring it out to the bloody wilderness. The pieces were far to delicate to subject to such things, and so he had left it locked in a drawer underneath his work bench.

However, there had to be some measure of pleasurable distraction during downtime, and so, as soon as Meyers had said a personal effect could be brought along, Aiden had busied himself about packing his precious violin. It had been hard to fit in the backpack, but despite the difficulty, he managed to stuff it, leaving only an oddly shaped lump poking out near the top. Might as well bring some culture to the rabble. His Parents, though not thrilled with the prospect of their son mucking about in the wild, had pressed him to outshine the others in every capacity possible, which even he had to admit, wouldn't be exceedingly difficult at all. The questionnaire was laughably easy if one took the time to study for it. Having correctly guessed that a paper would be in order, he had spent the last thirty-six hours reading up on the various flora and fauna of the district, eager to get the whole thing over with with top marks.

And so, as soon as they had trudged over into the more rustic part of the district, Aiden took the lightly folded piece of paper out of his pocket and began taking down notes. Hm. Wood Thrush on that conifer. Best to go all out.

Kingdom: Animalia
Phylum: Chordata
Class: Aves
Order: Passeriformes
Family: Turdidae
Genus: Hylocichla
Species: H. mustelina

Typical Voice
The Wood Thrush's loud, flute-clear ee-oh-lay song rings through the deciduous forests of Eastern Panem This reclusive bird's cinnamon brown upperparts are good camouflage as it scrabbles for leaf-litter invertebrates deep in the forest, though it pops upright frequently to peer about, revealing a boldly spotted white breast.

Size & Shape
The Wood Thrush's pot-bellied body, short tail, straight bill, big head, and upright posture give it the profile of a scaled-down District Robin.

Color Pattern
Wood Thrushes are warm reddish-brown above and white with bold black spots on their underparts. Juveniles show a somewhat muted version of the same pattern. All have a bold, white eyering.

Behavior
The reclusive Wood Thrush hops through leaf litter on the forest floor, probing for insects, bobbing upright between spurts of digging and leaf-turning. The male's clear, flute-like song echoes through the forest in spring and early summer, and both sexes make distinctive, machine-gun-like alarm notes.

The adult Wood Thrush is 18 to 21.5 cm (7.1 to 8.5 in) long, with a wingspan of 30 to 40 cm (12 to 16 in) and a body mass of 48 to 72 g (1.7 to 2.5 oz).[8] Among standard measurements, the wing chord is 9.6 to 11.6 cm (3.8 to 4.6 in), the bill is 1.6 to 2 cm (0.63 to 0.79 in) and the tarsus is 2.8 to 3.3 cm (1.1 to 1.3 in)

Bah, How much wildlife is out here anyway?


Dutifully listing the attributes of a common field vole, a beehive and a scattering of tulips, Aiden congratulated himself on a stunning performance, only to be thrown for a loop when he reached the second part of the assignment. The questions were few, but required a distasteful amount of interaction. I dare say none of these chaps care one wit about colors or hobbies, unless the hobby is getting into trouble.Ahead of him, a blond skank; what was her name again? It was mannish, that much he could recall. She was already plying her trade, leering at the Wolfe boy and whispering in a low tone. I suppose I'm expected to talk to these ingrates.

“This is all… this is going to be great, right?”

Unless of course, they begin talking to me instead.

Turning to face the owner of the question he assumed was addressed to him, Aiden was surprised to see the freckled face of the castilen girl; the perennial plain jane of the classroom. She was likely the only one he didn't consider to be a criminal in training, mainly for she didn't seem to excel at anything in particular. Not a failure, just not applied to anything. Mediocre."Uh...Salutations! I don't know how great this will all be, but it should be tolerable as long as people stay in line. I'm Aiden. Ash right?" Sticking a hand out to shake, he wondered briefly if she was attempting to copy his notes. After all, that is what the females tended to do.

[rook]

j a c o b + m i l l e r

[/color]

the war is another day
and you won't have to hide away
you'll be mine boy
but for now it's time to run, it's time to run[/center]

I see your face through this vague bubble of people. A slip of the eye, an illusion. You're not there. And my mind snaps from this temporary trance that I stumbled into involuntarily. Daydreams morph back into solid reality as I'm met with the drab faces of people that I do not know. Yet people that unfortunately I will come to know. Names, faces. There are so many in my life that my head struggles to match them up. Maybe I need to forget the faces of the past and focus on this new set of people, if only for this camping trip. I can do that.

My eyes waver to Mr. Meyers, a man who is cautious of me. I wouldn't say that he dislikes me as much as holds a long-term concern for my well-being. He's a good guy, and a good teacher as it happens, but he can be somewhat of a drab. It's good that he's assigned us this task, for me at least - It's a way out of the prison that they call education. I'll try not to learn too much. I lean down and pick up my dark red rucksack that I packed in a rush this morning. I sling it over my stronger shoulder and head over to the group, which seem to shift as Meyers mumbles some form of instruction.

Without warning, the group begins to move, following the teacher like sheep. Some stay behind momentarily and I'm forced to break into a brisk walk to keep up with the group. I wonder where we'll head, where we'll make camp. I spot a nice blank wall as we traverse away from the school and through the edges of District Three - It's not the time to be thinking of Art. The spires of steamworks spew hot air into the clouds above us. Towers of swirling bronze and gray dominate the skyline of Three, rendering us mere ants below. A hill seems to be our target - A massive mountain of green shrubbery and giants with trunk legs planted here and there. It's steep, I notice it will be a challenge upon stepping off the stone pavement and onto the unknown soil. I think that I'll sleep well tonight.

Stepping off of the pavement is like becoming something else. Something I am not. Wild. Nature is alien to me, because I've always been an urban guy. My Art

[/i] is infamous, as am I. Leaving the District's heart for the wild, even just for a school trip, is like leaving my own habitat. I'd be a fish out of water, and it annoys me already. What the hell am I meant to spray out there? I look at the rush of green and turn up my nose. Like it or not, this needs to be done.

A void hangs where social banter should be flying, which is partially my fault. I'm the heart and soul of any party, and even if this is more of an expedition than a rave, I'm still the center of attention. My mind has been so busy circling the conundrum of leaving my domain for the actual wilderness that I have abandoned my classmates. No wonder everyone seems so dead, if my mind is lost.

Tree. Tree. Bush. Rock. Tree. Tree. Girl. Ooh, girl. She's not bad looking, either. Her face is distantly familiar but no name flashes at me as she catches up with my already steady pace. She seems worn out, but holds a certain desire to keep going. Her face is determined, for sure.

"Let me guess – one of your extra items that you brought is a spray paint can?" She says, adjusting her bag as she keeps up with me. I let out a warm laugh at her words. It's funny how she knows me before I even know her name. It seems I really am infamous.
"My reputation exceeds me!" I say, laughing again and hauling my bag over one shoulder. I lock eyes with the girl, my chuckle descending into a standard smile.
"And you would be...?"[/b] I muster up a smudge of politeness in this dirty Everest of woodland.

Ripred knows I could do with the company.

[/blockquote][/color]

run boy, run
this world is not meant for you
run boy, run
they're trying to catch you

[/size]

[Lei]

What will it take to show you that it's not the life it seems?
I've told you time and time again
You sing the words but don't know what it means
To be a joke and look, another line without a hook
I held you close as we both shook for the last time, take a good hard look!

Words cannot describe how much I am looking forward to this trip, or, in my mind - this escape from the verbal battlefield that is my home. My parents have been getting more and more agitated with each other lately, for reasons I make a point not to care for. (I'm just kidding myself, though. I can't deny that my ears don't perk just a little when I hear my name being tossed around like a hot knife in the late hours of the evening when I am supposed to be long lost in the realm of dreams.) It wouldn't matter where my mind may be on those nights, however, as I can never really seem to escape my father's deep, scathing timbre and my mother's accusing shrieks. I hear them even now, echoing in my ears along with the soft forest sounds that envelop us as soon as we leave the familiar towering factories and smokestacks of District Three behind us. But as we make our way further into the shadows, the tension in my shoulders begins to fade along with the warmth of the sun's scarlet-gold rays, and soon my parents' shouted blames and baseless accusations sink away into the trees.

I readjust the straps of the bag resting against my back, hefting it farther up onto my shoulders in an attempt to ease some of the aching that has already begun to twist the muscles in the back of my neck. I've never been out in the woods before, at least not that I can remember, though I'm certain I've never been camping. I'm not really the outdoorsy type - I'd much prefer staying at home and reading a good book or hanging out with the girls, maybe a party or two when I'm up to it, but never something like this. I'm not sure what kind of person would actually spend their free time sleeping alongside insects and wild animals and things of that nature, and the just the thought of hunkering down in some dark corner of the forest is almost enough to bring my mood down a little. Almost.

It wouldn't bother me as much if it weren't so quiet. The other students are deathly silent, tromping along with pretty much just different variations of the same unhappy scowl plastered across their faces, save for a few who at least seem to be somewhat enjoying themselves. I'm not even sure if I know any of these people - they were in my class? I recognize a few, if just by the slight familiarity of their faces (I recognize the Valour boy, though only by his social status - somewhere up by my rung of the ladder), but some I hadn't even known to have existed. And they call me a social butterfly. I thought I knew everyone. But even so, the lack of camaraderie doesn't bother me too bad. I've always been quick to make friends; there shouldn't be any problems in that regard. Just a few more to add to my list of best friends and so-called confidants if there's room.

They seem to be pairing off already - the skinny blonde making her way to the boy with the odd red cloth wrapped around his arm. The meek-looking brunette girl attempts to make conversation with dark-haired boy while Valour starts loudly speaking to the broody-looking buff kid, and then here's something I've never been quite faced with before - I find myself alone. I feel a stab of anxiety in my gut, the prospect of being the odd one out in the group sending a little pang of terror through my veins. I can't be alone, I don't know how to be. So, I make a bee-line to the nearest human being and end up jogging up alongside the two young brunettes just in time to hear the tail-end of their introductions.

"Hello, Aiden! Sorry to butt in, but all this silence is killing me and I could really use some company, if you don't mind me tagging along for a bit. I'm Eliza, by the way." I flash a warm grin at the both of them, hoping my reputation as little miss congeniality will somehow save me from the awful threat of loneliness.

I'm not okay
I'm not okay
Well, I'm not okay
I'm not o-fucking-kay
I'm not okay

[Stare]

Now lives will be drawn
In the faded memory of
The lives come and gone
But time still goes on

Gradually the group comes to life as we continue our climb, awkward introductions pitched hopefully into the air. Mr. Meyers' smile grows impossibly wider, obviously glad for the improvement in our social interactions, but my own lips simply tilt upward into an amused smile. Just give it a few hours. It won't take him long to realize he's created a ticking time bomb. I've been to bad parties before, always stiff and cold and entirely boring, and I recognize the making of one when I see it. Behind me I hear one of them - Jago, I think - call out to Ross Wolfe, a mountain of a boy who I avoid as much as I can for the singular reason that he looks like he could probably snap me in half if he wanted to. A laugh hums in my chest when he turns around and offers Jago a scorching glare, a thoroughly layered stare with flames on top and general irritation beneath. I shift my pack again, accompanying the movement with a roll of my eyes, before focusing my attention back on the Miller boy.

"Danny Brooker," I stretch out my hand for him to shake, something similar to a smile making a rare appearance on my face. If nothing else, tonight should at least be interesting. "Call me Danielle and you'll find yourself with a rather bloody nose."

It's the same introduction I almost always make but today it seems especially sincere, the exhaustion humming through my veins and the pounding against my skull making me slightly irritable. Still, I manage to gather up enough manners from a wealthy childhood to offer up a somewhat kind sounding, "Nice to meet you." It's almost true, anyway. Tonight will be considerably better if I have someone to actually listen to my sarcastic comments, so I force myself into a friendly mindset, not bothering to keep up a conversation but simply walking alongside him for the rest of the trip up the hill and pretending I don't feel lightheaded when we reach the top.

"Here we are," Mr. Meyers declares, dropping his bag and gesturing around us. He's already set up three tents - one considerably smaller than the other two - and I figure they'll be divided so that each gender gets one of the larger ones and he'll sleep in the remaining. I glance at the other two girls in the group. Ashling and Eliza, both painfully polite and friendly. Inwardly sighing, I silently opt to sleep alone outside the tents somewhere. Besides the tent a small fire pit has already been made with the logs all set up and a few chairs and blankets ringed around it. I imagine Mr. Meyers' positive image of the eight of us eagerly chattering around a roaring bonfire and feel positively sick.

"Now," Mr. Meyers heads toward the fire pit with us following him slowly, taking in the small clearing and grass already flat from the footsteps of the students who were on the two trips before ours, "as you know, the school decided to create this trip to get you kids more in touch with nature. Personally, I think that's absolutely ridiculous - you're almost all hopeless and we all know it. That's why I've decided to use this trip as something as an experiment - each group was purposely put together randomly so that you'd be with people you don't know, and therefor have to form new bonds. Based on the past two nights, I'm expecting some social barriers to be broken." I give a small snort of laughter that my mother would indefinitely disapprove of, and Mr. Meyers' eyes lock on me. I fall silent, but he only smiles, gesturing for me to come forward. "Danny, you seem a bit... eager. Perhaps you'd like to demonstrate what I mean."

Sighing heavily (I've already made my opinion of this entire situation clear, so I don't really see the point in trying to hide it now), I walk up so that I'm standing next to him, facing the odd mix of teenagers."Now, the first step to good social relationships is having no secrets," Mr. Meyers says with a smile, and my eyebrows rise in mild confusion. What does he expect us to do - spill our deepest and darkest secrets to strangers? As if. All we'd do is lie. That's certainly what I'm planning on doing. Mr. Meyers must have been thinking something similar, though, because he doesn't head in that direction at all. "Danny, please empty your bag."

My jaw drops open and almost immediately I'm shaking my head, pulse racing. "No," I say simply. "No, I'm not going to, and you can't make me." If I dump my bag then they'll see it, the messily bound and painted copy of Rapunzel, and everyone will know that the mighty Danny Brooker still reads little kid books. But Mr. Meyers refuses to back down. When I continue to refuse, pulling my bag off my shoulders and hugging it close to my chest, he narrows his eyes. "Destiny, if you don't do this, you'll fail the assignment."

My parents both know I stopped trying in school a long time ago, but a failure will absolutely not be tolerated. I know what that kind of punishment means - stuck inside the house for two weeks, no going into the woods and reading, being forced to attend the formal dinners my mother hosts. With trembling hands I unlatch the flap over the backpack and turn it over so that the contents spill out of the grass, eyes closing. I feel my extra set of clothes press up against my legs and the quiet thump of my flashlight hitting the ground along with the other items Mr. Meyers packed. And then that distinct flutter of pages, and my eyes fly open just in time to see Rapunzel, the badly illustrated cover obnoxiously bright in the fading light, landing squarely on top of the pile. My face feels like it very well might be on fire, but Mr. Meyers doesn't seem to notice, turning away from me.

"Now the rest of you. Everyone empty your bags."

A new day will dawn
And die beneath this sun
For lifetimes to come
Time carries on

(OOC: So this is where that extra item you all packed in your character's bags comes in. ^^ Have fun!)

[/size][/blockquote][/justify]

[charade]

Before the quieter girl could make a reply to his question, another one had come bounding up and inserted herself into the conversation. Intially, Aiden was taken aback; This girl was one he recognized from the class. Eliza Ashdown, or as he usually called people in her circle One of them. Ms. Ashdown was one of the popular girls, and as some people frequently mentioned, a chatterbox. Aiden had never interacted with her himself, and so was confused as to why she would hop into their conversation with a smile. Shouldn't she have been trying to cozy up to one of the popular boys like Ross or Jago? A quick scan of the area revealed that everyone was pairing off and Eliza was without a conversational partner. Odd. Why would Mr.Meyer's bring seven students out for a group activity? Everytime we partner up, someones going to be left holding the bag. Aware of his silence, he adopted a thin smile and turned to the new arrival. "Er, Tag all you like. I daresay any manner of scintillating interaction would be preferable to this bothersome awkwardness."

But he didn't get much chance to hear or respond to any further replies, because they crested the hill soon after, and everyone stopped to examine the campsite. Aiden groaned. There were eight of them and only three tents set up around the ring of logs and blankets, which meant he would find himself in the irritating position of having to bunk with Ross, Jago andJacob. Just what I've always wanted, a chance for various ingrates to get their body odor and general funk all over my personal belongings. Mr.Meyers better appreciate the lengths we're all going towards for this assignment. Keeping as straight a face as possible, Aiden wondered if the students of the previous two nights had performed up to the teachers expectations. If so, that would certainly explain his rather chipper mood, but Aiden didn't see a reason to celebrate. Were not the current people in the clearing among the most volatile and unfriendly? Shaking his head, he tuned in to listen to their next instructions.

"As you know, the school decided to create this trip to get you kids more in touch with nature. Personally, I think that's absolutely ridiculous - you're almost all hopeless and we all know it. That's why I've decided to use this trip as something as an experiment - each group was purposely put together randomly so that you'd be with people you don't know, and therefor have to form new bonds. Based on the past two nights, I'm expecting some social barriers to be broken." It sounded a bit preposterous to Aiden, the things that Mr.Meyers thought were going to happen based on nothing but previous data. Every group was a study in of itself, and he hardly thought it was fair to compare them to the other kids. Case it point, the Danielle girl, who refused to listen for a moment, only to deflate and cave after giving the matter some thought. Dear me, but failing to comply could result in a failing grade? Who could have predicted that? If there was one thing he hated, it was when people made things unnecessarily harder than they had to be. Needless over complication.

Aiden raised an eyebrow as their teacher halfway scolded Danielle and forced her to upend the contents of her knapsack onto the ground. Clothing, supplies and various sundries tumbled out in no particular order, ending with what appeared to be a picture book. Craning his neck to get a better look, he could tell that it was indeed a child's fairy tale by the gaudily dressed princess on the cover; though he could not see the title of it. How quaint. I didn't think any of these delinquents even knew how to read, much less enjoyed it.Amused for the first time that day, he glanced from up from the pile to the girl, who to his surprise was looking away from the group with a face that was rapidly flushing scarlet; whether from anger or embarrassment or both he couldn't tell. It wasn't as if Mr. Meyer's had forced her to chuck her stuff out, she could have carefully removed her items and placed them on the ground, and if she hadn't been acting so emotionally, she would have known that. Filing that tidbit of information away for further study, Aiden turned his attention to the teacher.

So. That's to be the game then? Secrets laid bare in favor of greater understanding and companionship? Grumbling quietly, Aiden nevertheless began to dutifully unpack the contents of his bag, first taking his personal effect out gingerly and placing it on the ground by his feet. This is correct peasants, unbeknownst to all, Aiden Walker can play the violin. If you're really lucky, you'll get to hear me play a song around the campfire. Smiling inwardly, he continued to pull items out, starting with his extra pair of jeans and quickly pulling out other articles of clothing and folding them neatly together. His supplies, he placed on top of them, before pulling a folded piece of paper and a pen out of his back pocket. Flashlight. Check. Trail mix. Check. Travel size bathroom sundries. Check. One freshly ironed shirt. Check. Aiden continued marking items off of his list until he was sure that nothing was missing. Satisfied that nothing had, in fact been stolen when he wasn't looking, he stretched and looked around the campsite airily to see what the rest of his fellow schoolmates had deigned to bring along.

If attempts to fraternize would be considered a step in the right direction, he could find no reason to let an opportunity for extra credit pass him by, And so, inclining his head to the left, Aiden looked over at his closest neighboring student, which happened to be Eliza Ashdown, fixing her with a questioning gaze.

"And what did you choose to bring out on this trip?"

[rook]

JACOB MILLER

you kiss and you kiss
and you love and you love
you've got a history list
and the rest is above
and if you're warm then you can't relate to me

[/size][/center]

A shadow between the trees, a slap of wind, and you're gone. I blink, distracted as usual, searching for something to refocus on. It's a mad group of teenage kids, each with their own stories that no one wants to hear. I see a loud cuss spew behind me and kick up my pace a little to avoid getting on the wrong side of a lumberjack figured boy with meat hook hands and burning eyes. I know him from school. Arms like pythons and neck muscles bulging from his shoulders. Jago Valor. I make a mental note to avoid him, mainly for his sake more than mine. If there's anything around here with a bigger ego than mine, I want it caught and shot. I glance a snarky grin at the boy over my shoulder. The bigger they are...

The group moves obediently after our supervisor, our leader. It's like a school trip, except we never have school trips, so I can't relate. I guess this is what I imagine field-trips to be like, like I've seen something similar in an old movie. Groups of kids backpacking up hills, just talking and swapping stories. Ain't this somethin'.
"Danny Brooker," She says, shooting a hand in my direction. I had almost misplaced myself, forgetting that I was indeed mid-conversation. I smile, adjusting myself as I walk. I draw out my hand and shake hers. Her grip is tight for a girl and I find my face wincing in a forced smile.
"Call me Danielle and you'll find yourself with a rather bloody nose." She threatens with a dark stare, and I laugh. Sure thing, Danielle. I chuckle for a while as we continue to push forwards.

The woodland thins out to a more open plane, but the road is still tough and the hill seems to steepen. I make extra effort to be cautious where I place my feet. One misstep could mean that Jacob Miller takes a little tumble. More than a tumble. The wildlife is thriving on the edges of town. The polluted haze, bright lights and general bustle of Three couldn't contrast more to this place. I sometimes forget what the color green looks like, when there's not a dull LED flashing at me from a control tower or the like. Real green, wild green. When you live in Three, machines, towers, skyscrapers and factories become nature. Gray, drab monotony is what we're born into, and it's all we know.

"Nice to meet you." She says in an almost cheerful tone, her pace quickening. Really? I glance down at myself. Scruffy slacks, dirty boots, dusty old, red jumper and a face that sings hangover. I smirk, calling after her.
"No it isn't." I jest, biting my tongue playfully with my back teeth. Don't rest on courtesies, Danielle. I watch her go, hauling my heavy sack over my shoulders and digging deep with my fatigued legs, pushing my weight up the endless hill. I give my eyes a quick roll, tiring of this trek, wanting to rest. It's only been an hour or so, Miller. I'm supposed to be skilled in the art of mobility, but that's more about running away than walking up mountainsides.

I slow, tiring more than I should. For someone my age, I really should be fitter. I get more than enough exercise with avoiding Peacekeepers and darting through shadows, but Cardio' really isn't my thing. I pant, placing my hand on my thighs, as if that could help push myself up the hill. After minutes of angry and frustrating panting, I make it to the top. Not to my surprise, Meyers has set up three tents before I've even reached the summit. Keen as always. I try to push forwards to the rest of the group to hear what he's saying. I've already missed some of his damned speech, I don't want to miss any more.

"-new bonds. Based on the past two nights, I'm expecting some social barriers to be broken." He says, pausing. Danny snorts, trying to muffle her laugh quickly. I stand next to her, dumping my bag at my feet and folding my arms. I shoot her an amused glance. Mr Meyers seems to pick up on her disinterest, seeking her as a target.
"Danny, you seem a bit... eager. Perhaps you'd like to demonstrate what I mean." He says, signalling for her to come forward. I grin wider.

"Now, the first step to good social relationships is having no secrets," He explains, and I'm forced to stop myself from smirking. You won't make an example of me, Sir. Secrets are key to keeping friends, not making them. I don't know what this happy-go-lucky instructor is thinking, but I'd prefer it if I kept myself to myself. I'm here for a good time, not to share my past. Not to share my home life. If you can call it that.
"Danny, please empty your bag." He demands, making her mouth drop like an anvil. I glance around at the other lads, who all seem to eye their bags awkwardly. We all get the message. We're all going to be seeing what's in each other's bags. I feel a knot in my stomach, hoping that Danielle's guess what right. I really wish I had packed spray paint.

"No, I'm not going to, and you can't make me." The rebel. The bad girl with the attitude and the stone heart. I've seen in a thousand times. An act. I don't know her all that well, but from our introduction I already know that she's not who she says she is.
"Danny Brooker," Her words echo in my ears and I grin. She's not Danny Brooker at all, she's Danielle Brooker. Meyers gives her a warning and she reluctantly empties her bag. A bunch of clothing flops onto the floor, followed by a heavy, tattered book that sports dull colors that were perhaps once shocking pink and bright yellow. A Princess Story? I smirk, trying to look away. Not the hard girl at all.

Another boy empties his bag to reveal a musical instrument. A violin, polished and treasured, clearly. I wish I had a musical side, but I suppose I express myself through my art. After the taller boy is done emptying his things, Meyers turns to me. I am next in line after all. I shift awkwardly. My turn? Geez.

I unzip my backpack, peering inside as if I don't even know what I'll find. I see it there, placed carefully on top of my clothes. I don't tip my bag upside down, as my belonging is much more treasured. I stand forward and place my bag on the floor, slowly taking out the stitched teddy bear. I look at his button eyes and flush red, suddenly embarrassed. Memories, things I pushed into the dark long ago. I don't want to be reminded of home, not of that hell-hole with my parents and their demands for me to grow up and get a job and get out. All the pressure and expectation. All the shouting and feuding. It's all in this bear. It's all anguish. Yet some part of it reminds me of you, of where it actually came from. I glare at the others.

"So what?!" I say defensively, "Lots of kids have teddy bears!"

[/b] My face still red, I grit my teeth, waiting for their taunts. Most of them have grown out of it though. Most of them had to.[/color][/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]

from the floor to the floor
and the sky to the sky
you've got to love and adore
and the rest is a lie
and if you're warm then you can't relate to me

[/size][/center]

---

narrating
emphasizing
questioning
talking
listening[/size]

lyrics: "Hear Me" - Imagine Dragons.

graphics: Rook.

notes: yay! this is running again ^^.

[Lei]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image: url(http://i48.tinypic.com/20kcebd.png); width: 459px; padding-top: 2px; padding-bottom: 10px;] What will it take to show you that it's not the life it seems? I've told you time and time again You sing the words but don't know what it means To be a joke and look, another line without a hook I held you close as we both shook for the last time, take a good hard look! Safe, thank Ripred. Aiden and the quiet girl – who, now that I’m closer, I can see has the most adorable smattering of freckles all across her face. I make a mental note to fawn over them later; maybe then she’ll open up to me – thankfully don’t seem bothered by my intrusion. I’m immensely relieved that I at least have someone to talk to, even though my brain only registers about half the words Aiden speaks next, my mental dictionary fumbling for whatever the heck “scintillating” means. English has never been my strong-point, despite all the books I read in my free time. But before I have a chance to make myself look like an idiot in front of who I now understand to be an effing genius, we’re suddenly standing at the top of the hill in what looks to be our camp for the night – three tents, two large and one small, and a ring of chairs set up around a fire pit – and a small smile quirks the corners of my lips upwards. This doesn’t look all that bad, though I’m not quite sure what to think about having to spend the night sharing a tent with the tall, blonde girl near the front of the pack. I don’t know much about her, but she seems to radiate a “don’t fuck with me” vibe that somehow tells me she’s probably not going to be much for pleasant company. Mr. Meyers leads us further into the campsite, an odd sort of skip in his step that reveals him to be far more excited about this trip than anyone else is, and we follow like a tiny herd of confused sheep trying to figure out whether or not we’re being sent to the slaughter. "Now, as you know, the school decided to create this trip to get you kids more in touch with nature. Personally, I think that's absolutely ridiculous - you're almost all hopeless and we all know it. That's why I've decided to use this trip as something as an experiment - each group was purposely put together randomly so that you'd be with people you don't know, and therefore have to form new bonds. Based on the past two nights, I'm expecting some social barriers to be broken." The blonde girl stifles a laugh, for some reason finding our new circumstances funny (For me, this trip only seems to be getting better and better), and Mr. Meyers decides to punish her by instructing her to dump out all her belongings onto the ground. Wait, what? I feel a slight wrenching in my gut, the backpack hanging from my shoulders suddenly a lot heavier than it was a few moments before. As the blonde girl tries in vain to get out of having to empty her bag in front of us all, my mind flies to what I have tucked into the inside pocket of my own bag. People seem to think of me as an open book - which is exactly how I want them to think of me as - but everyone has their secrets, and ever since I was nine years old I’ve kept every last one of mine shut tight between the pages of the one thing in my life I will never, under any circumstances, share with anyone – my diary. Most kids grow out of that sort of thing by the time they hit puberty, as it is probably one of the most childish and cliché things a girl could ever own, but the words printed in messy scribble on each of those pages are everything I wish I could say - everything I can’t say – and each and every dark facet of my life that I can’t afford to let anyone ever know. The real Eliza Ashdown, embodied in a thick leather journal of every last one of my secrets where all anyone has to do to discover them is simply turn the page. Why the hell did I bring it with me? "And what did you choose to bring out on this trip?" It takes Aiden’s questioning voice and the expectant stare that comes with it to bring me out of the little bubble of rising horror trance I’d slipped into, snapping out of my thoughts just in time to see all eyes turn to me. There are clothes and school papers and similar accouterments scattered all over the place – what looks to be an old storybook sitting at the feet of a red-faced Danny (I think that’s what Mr. Meyers called her), a violin at Aiden’s, and (well, this is unexpected) the most adorable little teddy bear in front of the boy Danny had been speaking to earlier, who I believe to be the infamous Jacob Miller. Under any normal circumstance, I probably would have started gushing about just how adorable it was that the big bad Miller boy still carries around a teddy bear, but I’m far too caught up in my own steadily growing fears to think much on the cuteness of it. Everyone’s looking at me, and I’ve got nowhere to run. “Um, okay, well…” I slide my backpack off of my shoulders and take my time in unzipping it, peering inside to make sure my diary is still where I put it in the inside pocket. It’s right where I remember it. I briefly contemplate just setting my bag on the ground and taking everything else out, leaving the journal inside, but then what if Mr. Meyers actually goes through the bags to make sure we aren’t hiding anything? He’d certainly find it then. I could take it out first and then quickly cover it with the rest of my belongings, but that would send a message to the others that it contains something I mean to hide. I don’t know any of these people – whose to say they won’t try to read it later when I’m not keeping my eye on it? This trip suddenly doesn’t seem quite as fun as it did in the beginning. With a grimace, I crouch on the ground and tilt my backpack so that all my belongings come sliding out onto the grass. My clothes fall out, along with the assignment sheet Mr. Meyers gave us before we set out, but my diary catches on the inside of the backpack. A knot tying itself up in the pit of my stomach, I give the bag one shake and the journal comes tumbling out in a rustle of papers onto the pile of clothes on the ground. And, of course, it falls open to one of the center pages, every white space filled in with messy handwriting and cute little stickers and doodles all along the margins and “DEAR DIARY” in big, bold letters at the top of the page. With a squeak, I slam it shut, cheeks burning brighter than my cherry-red nail polish as the knot in my stomach tightens up into a little ball of absolute embarrassment. I'm not okay I'm not okay Well, I'm not okay I'm not o-fucking-kay I'm not okay

[cass]

I don't know what I should do now
'Cause I've exhausted all I know how
Still all of my efforts, they fail me
Leaving me broken and empty
I can't go on

”Empty your bags,” he said. Key word here being empty.

[/b] I couldn’t stop the subtle flush that crept up and over my cheeks as he mentioned those words. Trying to hide my worry, I irritable tap my foot on the ground, an exasperated huff of air leaving my lips. I hadn’t even emptied the bag yet and I was already feeling embarrassed. I stare away from everyone, my eyes straying to the trees that seemed to enclose the space where we stood. I could run, just leave and not have to face this. But I wouldn’t get far. I wasn’t made for the bush; I was made for clothes, fashion and men, not for getting dirty. Ignoring the others as they spilled their own secrets onto the ground, I shrug my own bag across my shoulder, suddenly uncomfortable with its weight. The things I managed to glimpse –a violin, fairy tale stories- made me want to crack up laughing. But then the lingering memory of what I held in my bag would make me choke it my laughter back down my throat.

I forced myself to not look and instead think of something –anything, to get myself out of this situation. Every idea seemed to escape me, and the general notion of refusing to empty my bags wasn’t an option. I didn’t fail. I never failed a project, yeah I barely scraped a pass, but I never failed. It was never an option. In some strange way I felt as though I had to succeed at something. I had to be able to pass school and not fail. I knew my mother would want me to pass. She was one of the only people who knew I was gay –or at least had the brains to assume so-; she thought less of me. Her open scorn towards me was nothing new, but the cold undertone and harsh words that seemed to slap me as she spoke made all the difference. Not even Zal, my bitch of a sister, was treated with the same tone. Even my brother, who is blind as well as dumb gets cared for better than I do. Sometimes I believe that she doesn’t even want me and that she only tolerates me because of father. I wanted her to see me as her son and not some abomination. So I tried, I tried to do something right so that maybe one day she would look at me with kindness in her old eyes, rather than disgust.

I never tried to hide the fact that I was gay, but I never openly displayed it either. I didn’t try to promote my difference and let myself be opened up to all their scorn, hate and anger. I got enough of it from home. No one liked people like me; we were odd, unusual, disgusting, and unnatural, like parasites that shouldn’t exist. But I hated pulling along the idea that I was trying to hide it. That I was scared of who I was, but I wasn’t –well at least I tried to force myself to believe that. I worried about what they would think. So I used snide comments, bitchy words and a cold, cruel demanding tone to hide my own insecurities. I bitched, I scowled, and I growled and snapped at people. No matter how much I tried to bit back some malicious vicious reply it had to come out. I tried to throw people away from me, tell them to leave me be. If I wasn’t mean they wouldn’t. I told myself day in and day out that I was never trying to hide who I was. Yet a wall seemed to separate who I was and the act that I put on.

One of the boy's seems to be as irritated as I am, as he pulls his gear from his bag a teddy bear falls to the ground and he looks up defiantly. As though asking for someone to challenge him, to laugh, smirk or giggle at what he has brought. I force a smile from my lips, as my stomach does another nervous flip. Another girl goes ahead and yanks her stuff from her bag, the content spilling. I look over unable to hold my curiosity back, and a diary spills onto the ground. A smirk. But it quickly falters as I realise everyone was waiting for someone to go next, for me[/b][/color] to go next. Awkwardly I shift my bag higher up my shoulder. With great reluctance I drop it onto the ground, it lands with a dull thump and I breath a weary sigh.

I didn't have much to hide, apart from the little tube of lipstick that was hidden under everything, right at the bottom, where no one could ever find it. My mind spun and as I undid the top of the backpack, I couldn't let anyone see it, let them all assume, or even let them think why it was there. I hoped that I would be able to pull it all out, tug it all onto the ground and leave the lipstick behind. It was very small, tiny, basically unnoticeable. No one would realize it was still there. With that thought I forced myself to tug my stuff out of my bag. I didn't look at anyone's face and instead focused on hiding the blush from them all. If they didn't think I was embarrassed they wouldn't know I was going to hide it. Keep it from them, like I did with everything. I was a secret all wrapped up in a mystery and that was the way I was going to keep it. As everything spilled out and onto the ground the tube of lipstick stayed nestled at the bottom, away from prying eyes -at least I hoped it did.

Half living this life on my own
'Cause I'm hiding behind this smile
And I haven't come out for a while
See, there is this place so empty inside me
I'm hiding behind this smile

[/blockquote][/justify][/size][/blockquote]

[Danny]

She can't see the landscape anymore
It's all painted in her grief
All of her history etched out at her feet
Now all of the landscape
It's just an empty place

"Here we are," Mr. Meyers states, as if we couldn't see the small fire pit laid in front of us, along with a trio of tents. Mr. Meyers bag drops to the ground as he lets go of it, and I gently place mine on the ground as well.

"Now," Mr. Meyers starts to say, begging for our attention as we all swivel our heads towards him. "As you know, the school decided to create this trip to get you kids more in touch with nature. Personally, I think that's absolutely ridiculous - you're almost all hopeless and we all know it. That's why I've decided to use this trip as something as an experiment - each group was purposely put together randomly so that you'd be with people you don't know, and therefor have to form new bonds. Based on the past two nights, I'm expecting some social barriers to be broken." Shyly, I look around me. So far, Aiden seems pretty nice, but I couldn't see myself really befriending anyone else. Possibly Eliza. I know Danielle and Jacob already, and I know they're trouble. "Danny, you seem a bit... eager. Perhaps you'd like to demonstrate what I mean." I suppress a chuckle as Danielle sighs. It's not that I find pleasure in her pain, I just always liked it when teachers got back at their more... loud students. "Now, the first step to good social relationships is having no secrets," I shudder at the thought of him making us reveal our darkest secrets. I've tried tucking mine away for so long now, and dust has started to dust the memory, but it's nothing I can forget. "Danny, please empty your bag." I look to Danielle to see her response.

"No. No, I'm not going to, and you can't make me." Although Danielle has a point, I don't get how she can disobey a teacher like that. "Danielle, if you don't do this, you'll fail the assignment."

Danielle finally let's the articles in her bag fall to the ground, but there's nothing really peculiar. But then, I see it, the needle in the haystack: Rapunzel. It's not a monumental occurrence, it's just odd to see such a bold girl have such a soft-spoken fairy-tale in her bag.

"Now the rest of you. Everyone empty your bags." Aiden reveals a violin which is now lying at his feet, and Jacob pulls out a teddy bear from his bag. Eliza retrieves a diary and Jago (I think?) lets his stuff fall to the ground, but there's nothing odd in his bundle of secrets.

I sigh and take off my backpack, placing it at my feet. I pull out my clothes, some shoes, deodorant, a book, and finally, I take out a loaf of bread and a jar of grape jelly. Of course, there's no peanut butter. People may look at me funny for taking my own food, but I could care less. I never know what we're going to be fed here, and if I have my own food, even if it is just slices of white bread, I'll at least have something I enjoy. And trust me, there's not much I enjoy anymore.

Cause she's just like the weather
Can't hold her together
Born from dark water
Daughter of the rain and snow
Cause it's burning through the bloodline

[Stare]

I feel like the weight of the world is all
Crashing down on me
And some how I just don't believe this how
It is suppose to be

Oftentimes secrets are what tear people apart. They feed on man's horrible inability to keep them, spreading like a plague until he who thought himself safe is suddenly exposed to the world. Some secrets are good - they keep entire civilizations from ruin and prevent panic. Others are dark and terrifying, kept quiet only because if they are not then they will cause the spiral of one's sanity. And others are the unimportant ones - silly little secrets kept close just for the sake of having them. I hear them all at time at school (because everyone knows the best secrets are the worst kept ones), little snip-its of who likes who and what two people got into a fight the night before. But sometimes those insignificant secrets are the seams that hold us together. They make us feel important and proud, and we're terrified to share them with others because we just know if we give them even the smallest piece of ourselves then we will shatter and unwind back into something meaningless and inappreciable. There is little worse than living life unnoticed. Our secrets tears us apart, it's true, but I think they build us up, too. I think we need our secrets. They define us and sculpt us into the kings and queens we've always wanted to be.

The the thing about secrets is that they're like fire. They spread. Quickly.

From my position in the center of the group I can see the contents of everyone's' bags as they dump them out. They vary so greatly, from musical instruments to teddy bears (almost as bad as mine, Jake. I must say I'm surprised) to diaries, that I can't help but scoff despite the embarrassment that still lights my cheeks on fire. Mr. Meyers grins, obviously pleased, and I gnaw at the inside of my cheek in aggravation. If anyone finds out that I read... little kid books, it'll be the end of me. Ross, the large one, is the last one to empty his bag, and I see nothing out of the ordinary besides a small white envelope with a red seal. He glares at the thing as if expecting it to jump up and bite him, but doesn't seem particularly embarrassed. He was the last one, and before Mr. Meyers can say anything I've swiftly stepped forward, glowering. "I swear, if any of you tells anyone about this, you'll wake up in a very dark alley wondering why you feel like you just got hit by a bus. Understand? I will - "

"Danny!" Before I can go into the details Mr. Meyers is cutting me off with a harsh gaze. Before he continue scolding me, though, something strange happens. A young man, maybe in his twenties, breaks through the trees into our campsite, chest heaving and eyes wide. I watch him in confusion as he approaches Mr. Meyers, cupping his hands around his mouth and whispering something urgently into his ear. Our teacher goes pale, staring at the man in shock. "Are you sure?" The man nods. "You have to come right now." Mr. Meyers swallows and hesitates, looking conflicted. His gaze sweeps over us and he presses a hand to his forehead, obviously distressed. After a few moments he sighs, shaking his head and muttering under his breath before turning and glaring at us each in turn.

"Class," he says very slowly and carefully, and I can hear the lecture tone in his voice. "I'm about to ask you to do something very mature. I'm giving you a lot of responsibility here, and I expect you to take it very seriously. It would seem that my wife has gone into labor. It's a bit early - we weren't expecting the baby for a few weeks yet. I'll most likely be gone the entire night, and I'm leaving you alone here. I'm expecting you all to be on your best behavior. None of you are allowed to leave this campsite, understand? If anything happens to any of you, it's on my head. I know that not many of you know a lot about things... outdoors, but does anyone at least know how to safely start and put out a fire?" I reluctantly raise my hand, and Mr. Meyer's face lights up. "Ah, yes, Danny. As I seem to recall, you have a lot of experience with nature, don't you? Very well. You're in charge."

"What?" I blurt out, disbelief clear in my expression. "Are you crazy?! I don't know how to... lead people, and I'm certainly not the right person for it. I'm no camp counselor, Mr. Meyers."

"Ripred, no, I'm not putting you in charge of these kids," he looks appalled that I'd even suggest such a thing, and I relax slightly. "They can take care of themselves. Just start the fire, show them how to make dinner, explain to them that mosquito bites aren't poisonous... anything that a deprived District Three kid can't do, you're in charge of."

The task still sounds a bit too large for my liking and I'm about to say so, but he's already turned toward the rest of the class with a stern look on his face. "Behave. Don't eat the wild berries. And I swear, if anything goes wrong, I will fail you all." And then he's off before I can even ask a single question, disappearing behind the man back down the hill. I reflect upon his words. Behave. Yeah, like that's going to happen. We're not puppies - we're teenagers, and the word behave is not in our vocabulary. Still, I sigh, dropping to my knees and shoving my things back into my bag, Rapunzel going in first. My hand hits something distinctly hard and cool in one of the inside pockets and I smirk but don't pull it out, simply allowing myself to feel that it didn't fall out with all my other things. "I meant what I said," I mutter. "Not a word about any of this, or you'll pay for it."

I wander over to the pile of wood Mr. Meyers already stacked, then, digging around his bag for some matches. I search around a little for some dry leaves that will catch easily and place them underneath the logs before lighting them. It takes me a few minutes to get the fire going, but when I do it's a decent one that I should be able to keep up for the rest of the night. Turning back toward the group, I jerk my head toward the tents. "Looks like we'll get to choose where we'll be sleeping tonight. No offence, ladies - " my gaze flickers toward the two other girls in the group " - but three's a crowd. I'll make my own arrangements. Now, is anyone hungry?"

I know the heaviness that's
Making me cold
Is stealing my youthful soul and
Making me old

((OOC: Feel free to prearrange who you'd like your character to "room" with, if you'd like ^^ Just keep in mind that there are three tents, and Ross is sleeping outside. Otherwise, have fun! <3 ))

[charade]

What was hard for Aiden to comprehend was the way each of his fellow students reacted as they emptied their bags. Acting ashamedly as trinkets and other personal effects were brought to light. If they found the item to be potentially embarrassing, why had they decided to bring them along? True, his violin was a secret, because he sure as heck didn’t ever play at the school, plus he wasn’t all that sure about how such music would be appreciated. But while it was something that no one knew, it wasn’t like it was something he didn’t want anyone to find out. Not like some of his other activities. However, Aiden knew he didn’t have the time to dwell on that. Not now. Not when there was actions and reactions to analyze. If their instructor wanted them to integrate so badly then he’d have to put all of his reasoning skills to work to ensure that he could learn enough about his fellow students to pass the test with flying colors.

He had already had Danielle “Danny” Brooker pegged as a criminal in training, and so was still slightly taken aback at the colorful book that she had been hiding away. The other one, Jake as the girl had called him, was an artist of sorts, if one that works with spray cans can be called that, and everything that Aiden knew about him was gleaned from the whispered conversations of others around the school. A stuffed animal? A bear to be precise. My, my. Do all delinquents have a softer side like this? As the students continued to empty their bags, he decided to keep track of all of their personal effects. Knowing Mr.Meyers, remembering details like this were sure to come in handy later. Jacob became very red in the face, talking as though he were daring the others to make fun of him. Lucky for him, most everyone seemed far more interested in seeing what else would be brought to light. The quaint little diary that came out of Eliza’s pack was followed by an odd amount of nothing, and then some extra food. Bread and jam. What, no peanut butter?

The tall dark and brooding Ross boy glared as an envelope fell out of his bag, tucking it away as soon as he was able too. I wonder if it might be poetry. And with that, everything had been laid bare. Had it not? Danny started talking again and Aiden groaned inwardly. She sounded like a petulant child and he felt sure that he’d tire of hearing her talk like this soon. Mr.Meyers started to reprimand her but was interrupted by the startling appearance of a uniformed man. This is the part where half the class gets arrested. I just knew this sort of thing was bound to happen. The stranger whispered something into the teachers ear and whatever it was, it changed the look on his face completely. Mr.Meyers looked very unsure of himself. When he began to speak, the tone sounded authoritative and so Aiden payed close attention. I suppose congratulations are in order for the child, But why on earth would you leave us alone out here? I just know that this is going to end in arrests.

The most unnerving order though, was his appointment of the Brooker girl as camp leader. even she had the good sense to say she wasn’t the right person for the job. The teacher expanded upon what he meant before vanishing altogether, leaving the seven teenagers to their own devices. Shaking his head in disbelief at this turn of events, Aiden gathered his things up and put them back in the backpack, plopping himself down on a stump and watching the others carefully. Mr. Meyers hadn’t been gone for more than a few minutes and Danielle was already trying to lord it over everyone. “ I can feed myself just fine Danielle. But thank you anyway.” He pulled out his small bag of trail mix and started to munch on some as he scanned the clearing. “If Mr. Meyers isn’t going to be here tonight to use his tent, I say we all store our things in it. Would be better than trying to avoid rolling over others personal effects in the night.” Aiden looked at the others expectantly, trying to gauge what their replies might be. So much to learn about these people and so little time.

[rook]

JACOB MILLER

you kiss and you kiss
and you love and you love
you've got a history list
and the rest is above
and if you're warm then you can't relate to me

[/size][/center]

A burst of sunlight, a reflection in the faces of others and I'm reminded that you're not here. My face still flushes red from the revelation that I, Jacob Miller - the most notorious street artist in District Three - has a teddy bear. I am unchallenged though, no one seems to make a jest at me or laughs. Not to my face anyway. I see a few of them concealing their smiles and making judgements inside their little heads. We all have something to be embarrassed about, it seems. I somehow doubt many people are judging me too much, considering the array of strange and childish items that the group has brought with them. Are we all so immature, or do we need the comforts of home life? I think that perhaps I'm just immature, as Jacob Miller has no home life.

A man rushes through the thicket, his face red and sweat trickling down his brow. Mr Meyer's face soon mimics his counterparts as the newcomer spills the news into his ear. Panic seems to spread to him and a few low murmurs of discomfort start to ripple through the band of teenagers. My face curls into a frown, my arms fold as I watch the scene unfold. It didn't take a genius to figure out that something was wrong.
"Class..."
And here's the kicker.

"I'm about to ask you to do something very mature. I'm giving you a lot of responsibility here, and I expect you to take it very seriously. It would seem that my wife has gone into labor. It's a bit early - we weren't expecting the baby for a few weeks yet." I can't help but raise an eyebrow. Why did he come out here if his wife was heavily pregnant? My lips tighten as I listen closely. Does this mean he'll be leaving us with this new man?
"I'll most likely be gone the entire night, and I'm leaving you alone here" He explains, and now I force back a laugh. The situation is farcical. Does he really expect to leave a group of teenagers alone in the woods and not expect chaos to spawn?
"I'm expecting you all to be on your best behavior. None of you are allowed to leave this campsite, understand? If anything happens to any of you, it's on my head. I know that not many of you know a lot about things... outdoors, but does anyone at least know how to safely start and put out a fire?" The desperation is thick in his voice. Danny, no, Danielle, raises her hand to Mr Meyer's relief.

"Ah, yes, Danny. As I seem to recall, you have a lot of experience with nature, don't you? Very well. You're in charge." It's all I can do not to laugh now, a smile wide on my face, my fist pressed against my lips to suppress my snickering. Danielle in charge? If anyone, why not that Aiden kid? He seems the most responsible. In the land of the dark, the man with light is king. In this case, that man is a stubborn teenager who hides behind a false name and covers up her past with rash bravado. Sounds familiar, doesn't it Jakey-boy?

The word Behave hangs in the air as our teacher, our guide and our guardian leaves us, all at once. The silence he leaves is deafening, the awkwardness of the situation is clear to all. Danielle grunts as she leans down to cram her stuff - including her dull pink picture book - into her bag again. She mutters some threat, warning the others not to say a word of this to anyone else. I doubt that her threat will stop them. Words spread faster than fire, and now everyone will know that Danielle Brooker reads children's books, and that Jacob Miller has a teddy bear. They may know what we own, but they will never know what they mean.

Words are cast over sleeping arrangements, with only three tents it would seem that we are going to have to sleep in pairs. Danielle immediately expresses her disinterest in sleeping with the girls, leading me to think that she has more lustful intentions.
"Now, is anyone hungry?" She asks. Well, at least she's making an effort to seem a leader. Aiden shrugs off the offer.
"I can feed myself just fine Danielle. But thank you anyway." He produces a bag of grain and begins munching on the nothing-food like it will fill him up.

I waltz over to the teenage girl, sitting down on the floor and staring at her eyes until she looks at me. I scrunch up my face and glance at Aiden.
"He called you Danielle...!" I parody in a whisper, acting like it's the biggest crime ever. Obviously I'm joking with her, but hopefully it will provoke a response. I don't like it when people hide behind false identities. Least of all when I'm the one hiding. I stare up at her from my sitting position and hug my legs. I don't feel like moving from this spot, so I grab a few twigs that lie motionless around me and begin to pile them into a tiny pyramid in front of me. It's a decent distance from the tents, if only I knew how to light a fire.

"I'm more thirsty than hungry..." I protest to the group, suddenly springing up to my feet. I throw back my black jacket and take a hip-flask from my belt. I hold the metallic flask lightly in my hand.
"Who wants some alcohol?" I grin, my eyes flashing towards Danielle.
In the land of sombre teenagers, the man with the alcohol is king.

from the floor to the floor
and the sky to the sky
you've got to love and adore
and the rest is a lie
and if you're warm then you can't relate to me

[/size][/center]

---

narrating
emphasizing
questioning
talking
listening[/size]

lyrics: "Hear Me" - Imagine Dragons.

graphics: Rook.

notes: derpherp