Free The Camp by kit Crumb Page A

have complete control over my life.” She pulled a sheet out of the file folder and scanned it. “Says here that I have to attend group counseling five days a week. Oh my god. I have to attend private one-on-one counseling. Who are these people? If I refuse, will they lock me up in solitary confinement?” She looked down at the bottom of the sheet. “My own mother isn’t allowed to visit me for the first nine months. Mama, what have you done?”
    By the time Dorothy guided the Subaru through the town of Grants Pass, she had decided not to stop for a pleasant lunch with her daughter. Both hands looked like she was on a white-knuckle ride at an amusement park as she gripped the steering wheel. For the first time since she had been called to the school, Dorothy admitted to herself that her daughter’s year at a camp for troubled teens might be a good thing for her, too.
    They drove from a two-lane road maintained by the county to a narrow one-lane. When they came to a   ‘Y’ in the road, Dorothy stopped.
    “If I were driving, I’d know which way to go.”
    Her mother turned off the engine.
    “What are you doing? We’re in the middle of the road.”
    Her mother was looking straight ahead. Maybe she saw something.
    Dorothy spoke softly. “I have stopped because I will not see my daughter, my Ellen, for nine months.” When she turned her eyes were moist.  
    This was something Ellen had never seen in her mother and she began to cry.  
    “Please, this is not how I want to remember my Ellen.”
    Ellen leaned across the console and hugged her mother. “Oh, mama. I’m so sorry.”
    Dorothy started the car. “We go to the right.”
    Ellen looked left. “What if we went that way?”
    “Small store and restaurant. Mrs. Johnson says that if you are good, you may get to work there.”
    They followed a hard-packed dirt road and passed a number of outbuildings. Some kids were walking past the door where they were given tools. Some looked up, and one gave Ellen the finger.
    They circled a log house and parked behind it. Ellen got out, surprised when her mother did not.
    The crunching of pea gravel drew her attention.
    A tall woman wearing jeans and white sneakers to match her white blouse and scarf was striding in her direction, right hand outstretched. “Jane Johnson.” Ellen surprised herself when she turned to face her and took her hand. “Ellen Stulov.”
    “Your mother has already seen the facilities. There is no reason for her to come in with you.”
    Ellen turned briskly. “Mama, I love you.”
    Jane dropped an arm over her shoulder and guided her around toward the building.  
    “That was really sweet. If you come with me, I’ll tell you why.
    They walked through a short hall and past several offices.
    Jane opened a door and ushered her in. “This is my place. Go on in and have a seat. I’m going down the hall for some coffee. Can I get you something?”
    She couldn’t smile. “Thank you, no.”
    Ellen took a seat in front of the desk and had just begun to look around when Jane returned. “Well, good. You just passed the first test.” She took a quick look around before moving to the business side of the desk, setting her mug of coffee in the center. “You didn’t trash the place.” She paused and Ellen said nothing.
    “Fine, then. Do you know why I called that moment out there sweet?”  
    It was a rhetorical question and Ellen just shook her head in the negative.  
    “Because most of the young people that come here do not arrive with a parent. And if they do, it is in a rage. The air crackles blue with their language and just as often as not, the rage is shared by their parent. Very sad.” She slurped her coffee. “Sorry, way too hot.”  
    “I read your file, and it’s not sad. It says you’ve been living at home with your mother. Again, most of the young people here come to us from an abusive home or foster home. Some don’t have a home and arrive in a sheriff’s cruiser.”
    Jane