The Call to Mom

Stevie had been asleep when the bedside phone sounded at midnight. "Mrs. Van Home, this is the director of Lakeside Pines Camp," the voice said. "I'm sorry to be calling so late." Startled wide awake with worry, Stevie immediately jumped to conclusions: "Is Shawna all right? Has she been hurt? Is she ill?" The camp director calmly described where he had found Shawna and her friend, how they were dressed, and what they were doing. He said, “You need to come pick her up." Stevie couldn't believe it. Like most teenagers, Shawna had her moments of mischief and rebellion. But sneaking out of camp after hours to meet boys at a tavern was beyond anything Shawna would try. She wasn't a boy chaser, and she didn't even own suggestive clothing. The camp director was clearly reading more into the incident than was actually there.

"Can't you just ground Shawna until Sunday?" Stevie asked. “A trip to Lake Arrowhead will take at least two hours.” The director answered, “If you'll promise to be here before breakfast tomorrow, I'll put Shawna in the nurse's cabin for the rest of the night." "Before breakfast?" Stevie moaned. "Mrs. Van Home, if our kids don't face immediate consequences for their misbehavior, they won't learn respect for the rules." Stevie hated it when someone offered unsolicited parenting advice—especially when the advice was right.

The Call to Mom

Stevie had been asleep when the bedside phone sounded at midnight. "Mrs. Van Home, this is the director of Lakeside Pines Camp," the voice said. "I'm sorry to be calling so late." Startled wide awake with worry, Stevie immediately jumped to conclusions: "Is Shawna all right? Has she been hurt? Is she ill?" The camp director calmly described where he had found Shawna and her friend, how they were dressed, and what they were doing. He said, “You need to come pick her up." Stevie couldn't believe it. Like most teenagers, Shawna had her moments of mischief and rebellion. But sneaking out of camp after hours to meet boys at a tavern was beyond anything Shawna would try. She wasn't a boy chaser, and she didn't even own suggestive clothing. The camp director was clearly reading more into the incident than was actually there.

"Can't you just ground Shawna until Sunday?" Stevie asked. “A trip to Lake Arrowhead will take at least two hours.” The director answered, “If you'll promise to be here before breakfast tomorrow, I'll put Shawna in the nurse's cabin for the rest of the night." "Before breakfast?" Stevie moaned. "Mrs. Van Home, if our kids don't face immediate consequences for their misbehavior, they won't learn respect for the rules." Stevie hated it when someone offered unsolicited parenting advice—especially when the advice was right.

Busted

Before Shawna could reach the car's open door, a green Ford Explorer snapped into a quick turn and knifed into the last parking space beside the Camaro, causing her to jump back in alarm. Painted on the door in large white letters were the words Lakeside Pines Christian Camp. Shawna recognized the director of the camp from which she and Destiny had almost succeeded in escaping.

The blue Camaro full of guys squealed away from the curb and roared toward the village. Destiny snapped at Shawna "If you'd jumped into that car faster, we'd be out of here free and clear. But no, you stand around and ..." Her words trailed off on a note of disgust. Shawna said nothing. She knew Destiny could not begin to understand the sudden sense of relief she felt. She hardly understood it herself.

Party Time

As if sensing Shawna's uncertainty, Travis said, "Rik's up at the cabin getting ready for our little . . . party. Let's go." Destiny turned to Shawna with a look that communicated, What's your problem, girl? This is what we came for. Move it before a camp counselor drives by and sees us. Warning signs she wanted to ignore flashed wildly in her brain. Why didn't Rik come himself? Who are these guys, and why are there at least three of them, four counting Rik—if Rik is really in the cabin, if there really is a cabin?

"There's a place just up the hill where we can all get nice and warm." The car's occupants laughed and hooted at the comment. "This is what I came for, Shawna, a wild party," Destiny said, sounding irritated. "Isn't it what you came for?" Defying the red lights and warning sirens going off inside her, Destiny had something Shawna wanted: the freedom, the independence to say, "I know what's best for me," If a party with these guys is good enough for Destiny, Shawna assured herself, it's good enough for me. "Yeah," she said, mustering her confidence. "This is exactly what I came for."

The Rules

Shawna and Destiny saw the metallic blue Camaro from two blocks away, angled into the curb in front of Coogan's Pub. "It's party time," Destiny said expectantly trying to assume the mature persona she had portrayed by email to a guy who signed on simply as Rik. But inside, Shawna's emotions snapped and sparked like live wires. Raw excitement clashed with insistent cautions against unknown dangers.

Headstrong defiance wrestled against deeply anchored rules of behavior—“rules designed to keep you safe,” her parents had drummed into her. Well, the rules didn't keep Dougie safe, did they? she thought as an unbidden memory of her older brother flitted through her mind. And they sure didn't help keep our family together. So maybe I have the right to figure out my own rules for a change. Memories of Dougie were always painful, so she pushed them from her mind and focused on the Camaro ahead.

A man in his early twenties leaned on the front door like a Levi's model, smoking a cigarette. "That's Travis," Destiny whispered. "Isn't he hot?" "Totally," Shawna said, even as she found herself slowing down slightly.

Online Friends

After they had traversed a couple hundred feet of dark road away from camp, Shawna asked, "How many guys are we meeting in town?" All Destiny had told her was that they were sneaking into town to meet some guys she had introduced to Shawna by email. "Just Travis and Rik, I think," Destiny answered. Shawna had not met either guy in person. Travis was Destiny's email boyfriend. At Destiny's urging, Rik had started emailing Shawna, and she had replied a few of times, sending him a glamor picture of herself with “bedroom eyes”. "What do you know about Rik?" Shawna asked, trying to brush away the nervousness that nagged her as they walked the dark, narrow road to town. "Friend of Travis, that's all I know," Destiny said. "I met him in a private chat room on-line. Travis set it all up."

Shawna pushed away all she didn't know about Rik and assured herself that Destiny knew about guys. After a few minutes of silence, Shawna asked, "Where are we supposed to meet them?" “Travis said they would be waiting in his metallic blue Camaro. We'll have a couple of drinks in Coogan's Pub and—" "Drinks in the pub?" Shawna exclaimed, "How old are these guys?" "Travis is twenty-two, and Rik is probably about the same." Shawna sucked a long breath of surprise. "And how old does Travis think you are?" “Nineteen. Listen, we look nineteen, and once they see us tonight they won't care about the other stuff. This is going to be an unforgettable night. You're gonna blend with Rik, I promise." Shawna was getting more uncomfortable about this idea with every step toward town.

Introduced to Pot

Destiny lit up, and the aroma of sweet-smelling smoke startled Shawna for a second. If they got caught doing a joint, they would be in what Destiny referred to as "bang-dead trouble." But, as Destiny also said—"Who cares?" No camp rules, no nosy mother or father, and no Bible verses were going to keep Shawna from doing what she wanted to do.

Destiny offered her the smoldering joint. She cautiously sucked a little smoke into her mouth, held it there as long as she could, and blew it out in Destiny's direction. "Mm, nasty," she hummed, pretending to enjoy it. Shawna liked the idea of smoking pot more than she liked smoking it.

"We've got to get going," Destiny urged. Relieved to end the marijuana cigarette charade, Shawna dropped the joint to the dirt and ground it out with the toe of her boot. Destiny swore. "That was no cheap Camel smoke you just pulverized; that was five bucks' worth of primo weed," she complained. "Sorry, that was dumb," she mumbled in embarrassment, "I'll pay you back, I swear." Destiny didn't reply. Instead, she waved Shawna to follow her to the road.

Sneaking Out

Shawna had been lying motionless on her bunk waiting for her chatty, giggling, teenaged roommates to fall asleep. She slipped into the clothes she had hidden under her mattress, knowing the leaders of the Christian youth camp would freak out if they saw her in this outfit: a tight-fitting turtleneck sweater and microskirt. Nor was it an outfit Shawna felt very comfortable wearing—at least not yet. Her mother had often said that a fully developed fourteen-year-old like Shawna was still too young to dress and act like an eighteen-year-old trying to attract boys. But Shawna's friend Destiny had told her what to bring to camp for this special night.

Destiny, another fourteen-year-old who could pass for almost twenty, was streetwise and experienced in things Shawna had little courage to try. Her weird resale-store clothes, flesh-piercing jewelry, hairstyle, and makeup had provoked not-too-subtle criticism in the youth group at church and at camp this week, but it didn't faze her, and Shawna loved the attention she received just from being around Destiny.

“Over here," Shawna whispered. Smiling, Destiny replied, "You're a wicked chick to sneak out of camp." Shawna appreciated the compliment. Destiny's opinion of her mattered a lot. Charged with courage, Shawna asked, "Do you have some weed?" Shawna had never smoked marijuana and hadn't planned on trying it tonight. But it seemed cool to ask Destiny about it anyway.