I sit at the kitchen table eating the same dry cereal as I do every summer morning. Across the room, the tv flashes with news updates. My mother sits across from it on the couch, commenting her objections on every headline. It’s been like this for months now and I wish things could change, but they won’t. No one can come up with a solution. The only thing that can be done is banning movement. Stores run out of stock quickly and it’s difficult for suppliers to get to stores. Sometimes trash will begin to pile up in the streets because there isn’t anywhere where else to put it. All leaders of the United States are trying to propose a plan to restore and rebuild the nation back up. No one can come to an agreement as the threat of other nations is still there. No one can come together for the common good, it always has to be a race. And from this, we are all trapped in the aftermath of their stupidity.

It is the first of July, the start of a new month. In all honestly, it feels like the last month to ever exist. It seems like it could all be over for good quite soon. The end of the world seems so close in reach after battling a pandemic for 30 years. Quarantine is an unpredictable on and off situation. You never see what changes are coming next, or if you’re seeing someone for the very last time. Even worse, arguments occur over anything at this point, no one has anything else better to do. All we can think about is what could have happened without ever getting to know if it could’ve been different.

If only everyone could find peace and contentment with each other, we wouldn’t be experiencing this. If we all knew how to respect other opinions, this wouldn’t even be a thought. If only we could love our differences, but we can’t. I haven’t even seen my Aunt in years because there is too much conflict.

A lot has happened in a short amount of time. Countries have had their fair share of rises and falls, some nations wiped out for good. The cause of all this turmoil is none other than the coronavirus. The world has never been the same since 2020, at least that’s what my grandparents tell me. I guess you could say that I’m just another dumb kid who has no idea what the past is like.

Halfway through another remark my mother was making, the doorbell rang.

“Oh another stupid pl-“

Typically, I would get up to answer, but she used her energy from yelling at the screen to get up to the door. As she walked over, I quietly snuck around to the sink to set my bowl down. Interested, I needed to tune in on this conversation. The only excitement I ever get these days is from prying. I turned around the dark corner and sat down by the little space of wall that was by the door. Only a small amount of light came through the blinds, leaving me hidden. As she opens the door, I move my head to see who is there, but it’s extremely difficult. I only got a glimpse of some man with a clipboard and then I had to hide myself again. Until I get another chance, eavesdropping will have to be the way I find out what is going on. It’s pretty common for random people to show up at your door with instructions on handling the current state of the world. Trust me, I’m beyond used to this.

“Hello, I’m John from Lucky Summer Camp.”

No. It can’t be.

“I’ve been sent door to door by government officials to register your child. As part of the new nationwide plan we think it is best to send children to a safe place for the time being. You have until next week to sign up. If your children are not registered by then, we will have to come get them as this is a strong security matter. Would you like to sign up now?”

No, this can’t be true. I’ve heard plenty of rumors about that place. Maybe it’s not smart to listen to a group of immature kids, but I believe what I’ve heard about that “summer camp”. If we were able to go back to school in the fall, some kids who were registered for the next grade didn’t return. Whenever that person didn’t show up, the classroom would fill up with noises. Everyone would be talking about how they didn’t see them after going to a summer camp. When the question of which summer camp came up, the response was always Lucky Summer Camp. The name itself doesn’t sound good. It doesn’t inform you of what the camp is about. It doesn’t seem like you’ll have any idea about what your child will be doing there. It sounds more like a game of chance than a place for kids to spend time at. Why is it called Lucky? What is so lucky about a place where no one returns? When things get bad, summer camp will get cancelled. But not Lucky, they’re always open. We could all not be allowed to leave the house, but with the exception of going to Lucky Summer Camp. Only the children question this, and in private too. Some topics are too sensitive for adults and they forbid many of our conversations.

A few of the kids who make it out of there alive will mention something about the 8th floor. They won’t speak too much about it because apparently, they aren’t allowed to. I’ve heard a rumor that there is a strict contract when you sign up. However, that’s just talk. You don’t know what is true and not true. All I know is that there are different floors and the one you want to avoid is the 8th. It’s practically an immediate death sentence. But why? I’ve been wondering this for years.

The last place I see myself is at this summer camp. Really, I don’t think I could come out alive. There is no reason why I should go there anyhow, this man is clearly a liar. Although his motive is unknown, it’s definitely not for a good reason.

I begin to slide up out of the dark corner. I am now standing by the door plain in sight. I know that this “John” guy isn’t up to something good and I want him to know that. I’m not afraid of a chaotic low life, and I want to make it obvious. This may be the beginning of something, and I want to stand my ground from the start.

My mother looks down at the paper, then back up at me. She gives me the look, as if she’s made up her mind. “I think it’s best to register today.” She says.

“No” I tell her “That man is a liar and I will never attend that fake little summer camp of his.”

She looks at me, astonished for how I just spoke. But I don’t care, I’m going to say how I feel no matter what anyone else tells me. She picks up the pen, about to fill out information. I try to grab it away, but she just moves her hand. My only choice may come down to irritating John, and I will follow through. I will do whatever it takes to let myself speak on my disapproval.

“So is it true that you find killing children enjoyable?” I yell.

“Killing children? I am not sure where you heard that. My camp is supposed to be a safe place.”

“Then why is it that people never come back after attending your so-called summer camp?”

My mother quickly interrupts, irritated with my comments. “The reason why they don’t come back to school is simply because they’ve moved out of town. Samantha, you need to be more cooperative about this. We need to fix our country and your only concern is bothering someone who has done nothing wrong.”

“But he has done something wrong. Don’t let him fool you, he’s a murderous freak who likes to scam people. If you would never like to see me ever again, then go ahead and send me there. Here, I’m backing down. You be in control and then see how you like the outcome. You’ll regret not listening to me.”

“Oh my.” John says “Ms. Clifton do you even know how to raise a respectful child?”

“I’m fourteen years old, we don’t need your opinions John. I’m a much better person than you ever will be. Why should we listen to someone whose only motive is destroying the population?”

“Enough!” My mother yells. “This conversation ends right here. You will go to Lucky summer camp, and you will never talk to anyone like that ever again! You are registered and you will be going there next week.”

“If you won’t be part of my life soon, why do you care what I say? I’ll be ‘lucky’ if I ever return from there.”

My mother signs the last signature on the paper and John continues to solicitate another family next door.