Darryl in Distress

Darryl in Distress By Feral Sephrian The urge to bolt crossed Darryl’s mind again. The Rapid City Regional Airport was crowded, and he didn’t know if whoever was picking him up even knew what he looked like. Getting away would be easy. The issue was that Darryl had never been to South Dakota or Wyoming before, nor did he have any money for another plane ticket. His choices were to either sprint into an uncertain freedom, or attend this reformation camp his parents had signed him up for. It wasn’t that Darryl completely opposed the idea of changing his life for the better. He was only eighteen and he had already done a good job of f*****g it up. He was a high school drop-out, had narrowly avoided jail time twice, and he had the misfortune of being a black kid from Detroit. Everywhere he went he could feel the ever-present gaze of the establishment watching him, waiting for him to slip up so they could point him out as a stereotypical troublemaker and toss him in prison for something stupid. If he wanted any sort of bright future, he needed to do something about it now. What scared him were the horror stories he had heard about places like this, the ones with gorgeous pictures of open fields and tidy cabins on the website that were actual hell-holes once the counselors got hold of you. There had been inspirational quotes and Bible verses on the website, too, which had convinced his parents this was going to be a nice place, just what Darryl needed. Darryl hoped it wasn’t too good to be true. He didn’t want to dodge jail only to wind up somewhere worse for four weeks. Someone at the terminal was holding up a sign that said, Camp Seyda Party Truck. Darryl assumed that was his ride. Weighing his options, he decided someone like him was bound to draw more attention running around the airport unsupervised and he’d most likely end up at this camp or somewhere like it eventually. Furthermore, his parents had scraped up their savings and tapped Darryl’s college fund to pay for this, so he walked towards the sign, for their sakes. The man holding the sign was pretty much how Darryl had pictured him: a well-tanned white guy in a polo with the camp name on the chest pocket. He seemed to be in his early thirties, since he had some wear lines on his face, but neither his dirty blond hair nor his beard had traces of gray in them yet. He smiled when he made eye contact with Darryl. “You must be Darryl,” he said, shaking Darryl’s hand. “I’m Daniel. If you don’t mind, we’re waiting on another arrival, but his plane won’t land for another forty minutes or so. Let’s go get your bags in the meantime.” Daniel made pleasant small talk when the overall volume of the airport allowed it. Darryl was wary regardless and gave short vague answers. While he was glad that he hadn’t been tossed into the back of a windowless van the minute he landed, the website had promised it would “set wayward adolescents on the right path and help them build character for adulthood.” This was accompanied by pictures of smiling teens on horses or posing in scenic locations, but that could be staged for all Darryl knew, some attempt to lull parents into a false sense of security before they handed their kids over to strangers. If this Daniel guy suddenly flipped from friendly to freaky, Darryl was ready to run. As they waited for the flight from Washington D.C., Daniel said, “So…Detroit, huh? I’m a born and bred Yooper myself, but I lived in Chicago for a while. I was an urban photographer, and if you look around the city you can sometimes find my initials scratched into the concrete to mark where I did shoots.” “What made you move out here?” Darryl asked. “Or do you only live out here in the summer?” He couldn’t imagine trading his life in the city for one in the middle of nowhere. It would be a nice vacation and a great way to get the heat off outside the DPD’s jurisdiction, but he got the feeling that so much peace and quiet would eventually drive him crazy. “Oh, no, I live here year-round. I moved out here after my dad died about five years ago. Back then Seyda Ranch wasn’t a campground, it was just a ranch I thought was photogenic.” Daniel smiled. “Boy, is it. Wait and see, it’s gorgeous out there. I think you guys are gonna love it.” Darryl had his doubts, but kept them to himself. The other camper’s flight landed and he followed Daniel to go greet him. With each person that exited the plane, Darryl looked for anyone his age. Most weren’t alone, and the ones that were immediately spotted their friends or family and completely ignored Darryl and Daniel. When the other camper did emerge, Darryl knew for sure who it was. The guy had a post-pubescent beard coming in, dark to match the fading bruise on his face. His carry-on duffel was slung over his shoulder, causing the muscles of that arm to flex and show off several tattoos. He wasn’t incredibly tall, but since Darryl was only about five-foot-seven, this guy and his confident scowl seemed impressive. The attitude in his eyes and the way he walked challenged anyone to try to mess with him and see what happened. Darryl was certain the two of them would get along great. Daniel greeted the new kid as he had Darryl. The other guy gruffly introduced himself as Reggie, or Reg, didn’t matter so long as he was in the mood to answer. He paid more attention to Darryl, but said nothing to him except, “You’re coming, too?” “Yeah,” Darryl said, falling into the slack but tough posture he used with his friends back home. Reggie shrugged. Even though Daniel tried to strike up the same friendly conversation, Reggie essentially ignored him as they got his stuff from baggage claim and headed out to the parking lot. Daniel led them to a beat-up old Dodge truck. Reggie threw his stuff in the bed and climbed into the back seat of the cabin. Darryl would have liked to sit back there with him, but he didn’t want to seem desperate for companionship. “Hope you guys like Death Cab for Cutie,” Daniel said, strapping himself in. “I’ve had a hankering lately and I brought my old CDs for the trip.” “They’re okay,” Reggie said, not looking up from his phone. Darryl also gave his approval. They listened in silence for a few tracks, then Daniel asked, “So…if you don’t mind saying, what brings you to the camp?” Reggie pointed to the bruise on his face, keeping his eyes on his screen. “Fighting,” he said. “And you, Darryl?” “Drugs.” That had been the final straw, but as far as Darryl was concerned, the real cause of all his problems was that f*****g slut, Courtney Devreau. Darryl hadn’t been that surprised when he received the same f*******: invitation to Courtney’s Sweet Sixteen birthday party as the dozens of other kids in his class. What had surprised him was the private message he got from her saying, Hope to see you at my party! xo. With nothing better to do that weekend and several of his other friends attending, Darryl went. Courtney’s parents were notoriously lax and everyone knew there would be alcohol. Courtney herself burned through a bottle of champagne on her own. Darryl drank a little, but he was sober enough that when Courtney dragged him off where no one could see them he suspected something was up. She murmured something in his ear about “wanting to ride that hot black c**k” and attempted to shove her hand down his pants. Darryl told her he wasn’t interested, but she wouldn’t back off until he shoved her away. Courtney stumbled to the floor, sniffled, and ran back to the party. The next day word had got out that Darryl tried to take advantage of Courtney while she was tipsy because he didn’t want people to know he was gay, and he hit her when she rebuked him. Darryl told people his side of the story, but no one would listen. She had a bruise on her collarbone from where he pushed her, and the other students were all too happy to rally behind a popular white girl when it meant hating on a poor black guy. Darryl received so many death threats and so little support from the staff that his parents pulled him out of school. With nothing better to do, Darryl got in with the wrong crowd. He thought they were cool, meeting in basements and alleys to smoke pot and drink. Darryl avoided the alcohol, but he would gladly get stoned until he couldn’t remember why his life sucked. His parents smelled the residue on his clothes, but with three younger siblings they didn’t have the time to do anything about it until Darryl’s friend was arrested for possession and the cops showed up at their house to ask him questions. That was when they decided enough was enough and signed Darryl up for the summer camp. Darryl wondered if that story would impress Reggie. Reg looked like the kind of guy Darryl hung out with in Detroit. He said he was in trouble for fighting, and the tattoos might have been gang related. Darryl wasn’t part of a gang, but he had fantasized about it. He wished he had a group of tough guys he could call his friends, guys who would back him up no matter what and beat the s**t out of anyone who told lies about him. His only concern in trying to befriend Reggie was what Reg might do if he found out that part of Courtney’s rumor was true. The drive took about two hours. Daniel gave up on talking about an hour in and spent the rest singing under his breath and pointing out landmarks. The landscape was pretty cool, in Darryl’s opinion. Even Reggie held up his phone to take pictures every now and then. It was weird to be able to see so far. Sometimes Darryl had looked out over the horizon from the higher floors of buildings, but here there was nothing but horizon to see, except for the occasional strip of trees and clusters of old farms and houses as flat as the skyline. They passed under a sign that read “Welcome to Seyda Ranch” with a plank that said “Camp” stuck next to the name. They made a right onto a smooth dirt road and a left shortly after that which led to a group of five small cabins. Kids were already wandering around, girls as well as boys. A fire pit sat in roughly the center of it all. “Okay, guys,” Daniel said. “Welcome to Camp Seyda. Darryl, I think you’re in the Pine cabin, and Reggie, you’re in the Fir cabin.” Daniel pointed to the locations as he named them. “There’s also the girls’ cabins, Aspen and Spruce. The one in the middle is Oak, the counselors’ cabin.” “So that’s where you live?” Darryl asked. “No, my house is about a half-mile to the east. I’ll introduce you to our counselors.” Daniel helped them get their stuff out and take it to their cabins. Outside Darryl’s was a guy who looked like he could be mixed-race. He had dark extremely curly hair and a broad nose, but his eyes and skin were a lot paler than Darryl’s. He was also on the scrawny side, his Camp Seyda T-shirt billowing around his narrow waist with the slightest breeze. “Oh, hey,” Daniel said. “This is Miles. He’s the counselor in charge of your cabin. Miles, why don’t you help Darryl here get set up while I take Reggie next door?” “Sure thing,” Miles said. “Come on in, Darryl. You’re the last one in here, so sorry to say the best beds were already taken.” Darryl shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve probably slept on worse.” The cabin interior was littered with the other boys’ stuff. There were four sets of bunk beds, and the lone available mattress was piled with clothes. Miles clicked his tongue. “I told him to move that stuff before you got here. It belongs to the guy above you, so you can put it on his bed. If he doesn’t like it, he can take it up with me.” Miles relocated some of the other stuff in Darryl’s way. “Are you tired? There isn’t much going on until dinner, so you can get some sleep until then. I’ll tell the other guys to be quiet.” “Mkay, thanks.” Darryl was a bit jetlagged, even though it had been a short flight. Then again, the time zone change made it two hours earlier than Darryl expected it to be. He kicked off his shoes and passed out shortly after he closed his eyes.