The Camp - Phan

Chapter 1 - Straightened Out

 "May 21st

It's been three weeks since I've arrived at the camp. It's been so 'fun,' that I decided to keep a journal. I hate every second of every part of this mess. The guards and trainers are tough, and allow no breaks. They don't let you listen to music or talk to anybody until classes are over. I have to go around and I'm supposed to be 'practicing how to be straight,' and it's driving me nuts because I don't know what I'm supposed to do. How do you 'act straight?'

"What I'm in is called a 'straight camp.' My parents threw me – a 17 year old – into a freaking straight camp. All I did was try to come out to them! They've always been so loving and supportive that I thought they could handle this. But apparently, for being gay, I deserved to be struck and sent away for a few horrifying months while I 'straightened out???' What does that even mean? I'm so confused and lost that I don't even know anymore.

"Anyway,there are lots of other people here that are in the same situation as I am. It's sad really. Nobody here had done anything wrong, but they are treating us like criminals in a prison. I just want to go home...actually, no. I want to go anywhere but here and home, since I'm not accepted at either place."

I put my pencil down and reviewed my work. Keeping a journal while trapped in here ought to keep my mind somewhat sane. I realized I forgot to add one thing:

"And journal, my name is Phil. That's it, just Phil."

I smiled at it. My name was just Phil. It felt right not to have the surname alongside it. I didn't feel like a part of my family, so I became used to leaving behind the "Lester" part. I hid away the little book under my clothes in my drawer when a trainer came into my room to call me out, and asked how today was going.

"Fine,"I say. He pointed me to my class, though I knew where to go already.

In 'straight class,' they taught us gay boys how to 'be straight' and like girls. It was awful. They often showed us pictures of supposedly attractive girls, but I still couldn't find anything sexy or appealing about them. The bisexuals at the camp had this as an advantage, and usually got out easier.

Some people had it worse than me, however. If you didn't pay attention during lessons, they would torture you. One of the lesbians at thecamp was once rapped by a trainer and was forced to like it or he wouldn't stop. Another gay man was denied food or water until he hadsex with a woman. Both of them died. In my opinion, they aren't just trying to take away our pride and convert us – they were trying to kill us.

"Ok, guys," our teacher said. "How is everyone today?"

"Fine,"we answered.

"Good, now lets do some regular, normal people conversation with the opposite sex, yes?" he said much too happily as a woman walked in."This is Tiffany. Isn't she hot?"

Tiffany was actually one of the lesbians from the other side of the camp. (We were separated by sex, which is just so efficient since we're all gay.) She looked terrified, the poor girl. She was anxiously petting her long, red hair with a fake smile. Her eyes were worried.I admit that she was pretty, but I didn't find her "hot."

"So who's coming up first?" As usual, nobody volunteered. He always had to call somebody at random. "Phil Lester," he said. "Why don't you come up and talk to her?"

Of course, I thought. Without a choice, I stood up and walked to her, a sad look on my face. It was either this or some type of punishment.

"Hey," I say to her, awkwardly flicking my black fringe from my face.

"H-hi."

"Well? Go on," the trainer barked. "Actually talk to her. Ask her out."

"D-do you want to go on a date with me?" I said uncomfortably.

She looked scared, but nodded. "Yeah, sure."

"Good practice, you two. Now its obviously not real right now, but if you keep it up, you can be having normal conversations like regular people like this in no time." The trainer forced more people up to pretend to hit on her before throwing Tiffany out and thanking her for her time. I knew she would be getting something for pretending to be straight, whether it was extra food or a day off.

"Now,you see boys, that talking to girls is easy. Most of you are too scared to do it so you think guys are easier, but they aren't. That's wrong. But that's ok, because we're here to help cure you of the gay and help you live a normal life."

"Cureus of our gay," I laughed in my head. He talked big, like he was preaching to us. I hated every word – every lie – hesaid.

We did more practices like that, including "straight vocabulary" (we always passed that, because its not like there's a difference) and"how to talk to another man the proper way." I waited until our lessons ended before shutting myself in my assigned room. In a while,we would be allowed to mingle, and I could see him again.