|| "𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝" ||
A bully roaming the hallways of Hachtfield High named Max Jägerman, A small group of friends decided to pull a prank on Max witch goes horribly wrong.
|| "𝐈𝐧 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐭 𝐓...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
˗ˏˋ꒰ 👓 ꒱
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟖 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐠 raced down the road, the roar of its engine drowned out by the thunderous music of AC/DC blasting from the radio.
Milo Cross sat in the passenger seat, her eyes fixed on the sign that welcomed them to Camp Idontwannabang.
Beside her, her father Wilbur Cross remained silent, his attention solely on the road ahead.
The car journey had been a silent one, the tension between Milo and Wilbur palpable as they made their way towards "Camp Idontwannabang."
Milo glanced at her father, breaking the silence with a question about the camp's peculiar name.
"Why is the camp called that?" she inquired, hoping for some insight from her father.
Wilbur's response was curt and dismissive, his frustration evident in his tone.
"I don't fucking know, Milo," he snapped, his gaze hardened as he met her eyes.
The car came to a stop, and Wilbur turned to face his daughter with an air of finality. "Okay, we're here. Get out, and I'll see you in a few weeks," he instructed, his words devoid of warmth or affection.
Milo nodded silently, feeling a pang of disappointment at her father's lack of interest in her questions.
She grabbed her bag and opened the passenger door, stepping out of the car with a heavy heart. As she closed the door behind her.
Milo approached the front desk of the camp, her bag slung over her shoulder as she joined the line of other teens checking in.
With a sense of apprehension, she reached into her back pocket and pulled out her phone, the familiar weight comforting in her hand.
Before she could even unlock the screen, a counselor approached her, holding a plastic container.
Milo glanced up from her phone, taken aback by the sudden interruption.
"Alright, toss in the bin," the counselor instructed, their voice firm as they shook the container expectantly.
Milo hesitated, a flicker of defiance crossing her expression as she clutched her phone tighter.
She wasn't ready to part with her only connection to the outside world, even if it meant abiding by the camp's rules.
"Why do I have to give up my phone?" she questioned, her tone challenging as she met the counselor's gaze.
