Welcome to Hell || Max x Reader || Camp Camp

1

Faintly, an irritating alarm was ringing. Alarms going off at the beginning of summer were never a good thing. Beneath the haven of the mess, you called 'your bed,' your hand shot out and hit the alarm, silencing it almost immediately. An unearthly groan escaped from your lips as your layers of blankets folded together, your sluggish figure rising slowly afterward. Your eyes glared back towards the newly placed alarm clock on your nightstand to your left. The time read 6:30 AM. It had taken you a second to register that you hadn't owned an alarm clock before.

"Mom?" you called out, "What's the alarm for?"

"Didn't anyone tell you?" she shouted back, "We decided to send you to camp this year!" Camp? Since when did fourteen-year-old children need to go to camp?

"Is she serious?" Your hands came up to your face and you fell back onto your pillow. You loved your mom to death, but sometimes she was too much to handle when it came to social events. Stepping out of your bed, you stretched out your sore muscles. A knock was heard from the other side of your door and an audible grunt was returned from you. Pushing the door open, your mom smiled softly at you.

"I thought your father told you." You shook your head with annoyance.

She hummed, "Well, like I said, we're sending you to a camp this year. Pack clothes for at least two months, you're leaving in half an hour."

"What?" Your eyes locked with hers, "For how long?"

"Two months. Please, let's discuss this when you're done packing. I need you to do that right now, okay?" She closed the door behind her, and your hands came up to your face again, groaning again. Pulling your hair out didn't sound too shabby, but your mom wasn't fun when she was pissed off. That was a fate you were not ready for. Taking a glance around your room, you suspected you were going to miss this.

——

You had left your room, feet pounding down the hall as your mom spared you a pained look, "I knew you were going to take this poorly."

"Without my consent, you're sending me to a camp I had no idea existed. Tell me why I shouldn't take this poorly?"

An audible exhale could be heard, and she reached down to hug you. Stepping aside, your eyes narrowed at her. "Honey—"

"My bus is coming soon; you know how bus drivers are when it comes to tardy kids," Brushing past her, you approached the front door and pulled it open, turning back to face her once more, "Don't worry Mom, I'll be fine. After all, your daughter should enjoy the things you sign her up for without her consent, shouldn't she?" You slammed the door behind you, grumbling as you trudged down the porch. You checked her wristwatch, 6:57 AM, you thought, your nostrils flared slightly.

"This year is going to be shit." Moments later, a rather run-downed looking bus rolled up to the end of your driveway. The driver harshly honked, and you tensed in response. Beyond the doors was an old man, possibly in his sixties or seventies. He grunted at you, making your lips curl downward. Ascending the small stairs, your head turned towards the aisle of the bus. Past the twenty rows of seats, you could only see about three heads. One being a tall, curly mess of hazel hair, another being a poof of teal hair, and the third being... a fishbowl?

The bus suddenly jerked, making you stumble and fall into a seat. Directly across from you was another kid scrunched against the metal wall. She took a glimpse at you, quickly looking away. For someone going to a summer camp, she looked like she was ready to head off to high school for senior year.

Her dirty blonde hair had already surpassed her shoulders and was barely going past her back and the subtle purple streaks in her hair looked poorly colored. A varsity jacket— which looked like it had been forged somewhere— was loosely slung around her shoulders and the painfully vibrant yellow tee that seemed to be cropped and fading badly desperately needed to be swapped out. She had a plain pair of blue jeans on, ripped at the knees with intricate designs going down the side of her calves, and she donned some simple high-top sneakers.

"You're staring."

"Huh?" It hadn't crossed your mind that she spoke until you looked back up at her face and saw she was looking right into your eyes.

"I said, 'You're staring'," she spoke, again.

"Sorry. I've been forced into this 'camp' thing, and I don't know what to expect from it."

She nodded, looking back out the window. "Well, the most I can offer you," her hand came up to her mouth and her voice was almost inaudible, "Don't trust Max with escaping the camp."

Your head tilted and she shrugged back at you, once again looking out the window. Your eyes remained widened as she paid no attention to you anymore, sucked away into her world. Slowly, you turned your head out the window to your right, watching the landscape fade into trees.

Because why wouldn't a summer camp be located in the middle of the woods?