Read Online Camp Utopia & the Forgiveness Diet (9781940192567) by Jenny Ruden - Free Book Online Page A

Cambridge hummed a song on the bunk above me. I dumped my duffle bag out on the bottom bunk and pretended to fold my underwear.
    The silence was tense. I’d bet prisoners felt like this when assigned a new cellmate. Reaching into the empty pocket space where my cell phone once lived, I shuddered. Of course if I’d had it, I would text TJ. It felt strange not to be narrating everything to him. I knew he’d be curious about my roommates and, pathetically, I wondered if he’d find any of them pretty. Cambridge especially. She leaned toward preppy, sure, but there was a strength there I’d bet he’d find appealing. Or maybe Santa Fe. She had a foul mouth and didn’t look older than twelve, but she was funny. More than likely, though, he’d swoon over the one they called Hollywood. Her waist measured the smallest even though her boobs were by far the biggest, which, back in the common room, it seemed all the boys had noticed. And she’d noticed their noticing.
    The phone in our dorm room had been removed as well as the mini-fridge. Everything smelled of mildew and smart people. As my roommates unpacked around me, I frantically searched my mind for something to say. But it was Cambridge who spoke first, her voice jazz itself.
    â€œAnyone hungry?”
    â€œI am,” I replied quickly. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
    Her hand reached down from the top bunk and in its grasp was an espresso mocha frappe drink, the kind in glass bottles with three times the caffeine that’s recommended. I hesitated. Was this some kind of test?
    â€œGo on and take it,” Cambridge said. “My dad sewed them into the lining of my suitcase so they’d get past the bag check.” She swung her head down and smiled. “He’s an expert at hiding things.”
    I opened the bottle. Just then Santa Fe asked, “ ¿Tienes más? ”
    Almost instantaneously, one thunked beside her. “I shouldn’t drink this,” Santa Fe said, but she did drink it, and thirstily, like she had just crossed a desert. While she drank, I concentrated on her Hello Kitty shirt with a bleeding bullet hole centered in the cat’s forehead.
    â€œHelp yourself, girls,” Cambridge offered. “There’s plenty more. He stuffed all kinds of things in here. Candy. Granola bars.”
    â€œWhat about you?” Santa Fe asked Cambridge. “Aren’t you going to have anything?”
    â€œNo thanks,” Cambridge replied. “I really shouldn’t.”
    â€œMe neither,” replied Santa Fe, downing the last drop, “considering I’m diabetic.”
    Bummer. That electronic device was a blood sugar monitor not an iPod. I hoped its beeping wasn’t a warning.
    â€œ No te preocupes ,” said Santa Fe. “It’s under control.” She was lying on the striped, vinyl mattress with her shoes on—hot pink high-tops with black laces. If memory served right, she weighed 180, which wasn’t that bad, but she was short, maybe five foot, and she carried her weight in her gut. She had nice legs, skinny ones, and her black hair oozed behind her like an oil slick. “My condition is constantly monitored by my brother,” she said matter-of-factly. “So let’s keep the candy our little secret, OK?”
    Cambridge mimed zipping her lips.
    Santa Fe lifted her arms upward in an effort to smell her armpits. “I got the Utopia scholarship this year,” she said. “I’m Hispanic and Native, and I’ve got diabetes to boot. I was their dream come true.”
    Cambridge tossed her a cellophane bag filled with a pink wig. “Sorry to hear that. That’s a lot of boxes to check on an application.”
    Santa Fe ripped into the bag. “Cotton candy! Thank you!” she sang out. “Anyway, Utopia is fine with me. It beats sweating in New Mexico all summer.”
    I glugged my drink. “I’ve always