Camp Moron

Chapter 1

   If you were to meet the smartest person in the world, you'd think it would be some wise old man, like Yoda or something.  When he (at least, I thought it was a he) was being introduced, all I saw was a little girl, about four foot eleven or so. She had long, almost black hair, that stood out against pale skin. She wore a dark blue blouse, and a skirt to match. I wondered if she was the guy's daughter or something. She stood at the podium, and the twenty or so guys around me started smirking. She fixed them with a startling blue gaze, and the guys only giggled like monkeys. Honestly, she gave me a weird feeling, like my soul was being pierced with a cold steel spike. She adjusted the microphone, and said, "Welcome to the Summer Camp For Under Gifted Students, or S.C.F.U.G.S. I am your counselor. You may call me Ms. Alexia. I will not respond to Miss, Alexia, or Hey You. Dress code is collared shirts and khakis. Violations will NOT be tolerated." She glared at several boys who wore t-shirts or jeans. A couple pulled up their sagging pants, which had been a controversial fashion for over 100 years. Most of the guys howled with laughter at the idea of being run by this little girl. She fixed them with a withering glare, and calmly replied," Is it a good idea to laugh at me, when YOU have been sent to a camp for idiots?". The laughter stopped, and the boys suddenly found interest in their shoes.

   She then explained the rules, and handed out our schedules.  They looked like regular schedules, but the text was HUGE. I guess that's what you'd expect from this place. We each had seven classes, but the exact classes depended on exactly how dumb you were. One of the guys had kindergarten-level math, and one of the girls had 2nd grade language arts. I had 4th grade math, 3rd grade science, 5th grade history, 4th grade language arts, as well as art, music, and technology. I sighed and went to check out my bunk. 4-C, it said. The first bunk I entered, the chaos was unbelievable. Turns out, it was a girl's bunk. Oops. 

   When I finally found my bunk, there was two guys who looked exactly the same, arguing over bunks. They had red hair and green eyes, wearing the camp uniform. I froze. I already had trouble with names, and this wasn't gonna make it any better. According to my schedule, the names of my new bunk-mates were Ayer, Asher, and Felix. I walked up to them and asked, "Ummm....hi. Which of these are you?" I showed them my form. They said in perfect sync, like they'd practiced it forever,"Oh, we're Asher and Felix, but you'll never know which is which. You see, that's something we like to keep hidden. You'll just have to get to know us!" I stared at them. The way they spoke was...weird. "What are you arguing about? There's two bunk beds. If you both want the top or the bottom, just sleep in separate beds."

"Are you CRAZY?" they yelled. "We NEVER sleep apart."

"Never?"

"Never."

"Ummmm....okay..." I left them to their argument, When a gorgeous boy of about fourteen walked in. He was blond, with sharp violet eyes. He had a cheery disposition as he looked around the cabin. This was Ayer, I assumed. He was the son of a wealthy french businessman, and would one day inherit his father's company. You can imagine his father's disappointment when Ayer came out, dumb as a rock. I found him a great room mate, considering he showed complete optimism in everything. Wrong in math? Okay! Fell in the cafeteria? Totally fine. He was as happy as a clam in every situation. We had math and history together, and the teachers were also charmed by his spirit. I had art with the twins, but they never seemed to talk to anyone else. We ate together, and soon they were the only people in the camp I knew as friends. 

 At some point, I had to go to the office. I had forgotten my homework in history three times in a row and my teacher was somewhat irritated. The office was clean and sparse, with a shiny modern desk and computer. No one was there, so I took a peek at the computer.  An email was displayed, with the "from" box showing a foreign name. I wondered if I had heard it before. Suddenly, the door opened. A pair of bodyguards walked in, followed by Alexia. She appeared shocked for a second, then whispered to her guards. Before I could register what was happening, the men grabbed me. I felt a small prick in my arm. I looked down and saw a large hypodermic needle draining some sort of clear fluid into my arm. The room swirled, and then it went black.