Today, I met Marlboro on the bus. Marlo for short.
“Like that old cigarette brand?”
“My ma used to smoke a pack a day when she was our age, before they made it totally illegal.”

Marlo gave me a lazy gap-toothed smile and it revealed pointed canines and the shiny ball bearings of a self-pierced smiley. I was jealous of the way his carefree hair bounced as he talked. Later, the heat settled over us like a blanket of dust and the bus seats cemented themselves to my bare legs. Almost as soon as the bus started, Marlo’s eyes had closed and his head drooped over onto my side of the plastic seats, but not so much that it ever rested on my sun-scorched shoulder. Polite of him. I didn’t have much to say to him when he was awake, but I tried to understand him as he slept. His smooth skin was punctured here and there with silver jewelry and tattoos across his arms. On the curve of his bicep, I decided, was the best one: a contraband pack of smokes, the word Marlboro embellished in a gothic font, black ink barely visible against his dark skin. 

The rest of the kids on the bus all had the same look: heavy hooded eyes, sullen faces, colorful hair, and piercings. The bus was taking us to “summer camp” in Arizona. Arizona, which has long since dried up to a crisp. There’s nothing to do in Arizona. I watched the wispy Californian trees balefully fade into orange and pink desert. Every once in a while, the sparse cactuses seemed to be skeletal people in the distance. 

My dad surprised me with news of the camp (the retreat) this morning, bags packed, phone confiscated, the whole immersive experience. I remember thinking, these goddamn white people and their falling for spirituality crap before I was ushered out the door onto the bus by our Assistant. This morning I had straightened my hair so it would look tidier but the mingling of the heat and my sweat has caused it to puff up again. I don’t know why he made me go on this trip– I’m nothing like the other kids at all. I imagined the cactus-people chasing after the bus as it rolled past. I imagined forcing open the emergency exit and tumbling from the window of the bus, and the cactus-people catching me in their prickly arms. Maybe I could be at home among them, shriveling to the bone, arms outstretched. 

The bus pulled to a stop in front of an enormous dome made of glass bricks in stark contrast to the desert wasteland. A peaceful visage of the orange-blue sunset was reflected on the surface of the glass. Inside the dome, tropical foliage flourished with all the luscious greens and rich dark earth that Arizona lacked. A miracle of modern technology, I guess. 

The driver disengaged from the bus with a sputter.
Welcome to Camp Eden, your home for the next seven days. Little green lights blinked on and off in her eyes as she automatically connected to the camp’s network. She had probably been downloading updates that occurred while she was busy driving– and instructions for what to do with us. We are so excited to have you here.

We cut through the soundless desert, trudging our way towards the towering structure. As nighttime set in, a biting cold wind began howling around the camp. Marlo tugged at my hair and I batted his hand away. 

You know they didn’t have to create artificial environments back in the day? It used to be all-natural. Apparently being named Marlboro gave him special expertise in history. 

“This place gives me the creeps.”
“No kidding.” We fell into what I would say was a rather comfortable silence.

The bus driver had stopped in front of the entrance and started saying something about learning objectives and our goals for this experience. Near the end of your time here, we will offer an evaluation based on those goals and how much you’ve improved. I could barely make out her silhouette in the early evening haze. The sand whipped at my face, delivering a thousand tiny cuts to my bare skin. The inside of the dome was warm and humid, the thick glass trapping all the heat from the day. My limbs moved sluggishly after a whole day of sitting on the bus. Marlo wrapped his long arms around me without warning, as I moved to enter my assigned dorm.

See you around, Cory. And then he left with a tongue-in-cheek smile.

 

 

I turned over in the morning and made eye contact with the girl in the bunk across from me. She had chipped her name into the bedpost, Delancey Yu, right under where the bunk assignments rested. She peered down at me curiously as she wound a wide-bristle brush through her slick, straight hair. Her eyes were deeply sunken into her face, and her high cheekbones were dusted very lightly with soft freckles.

The stickiness of the morning was caught in my throat. I coughed, wetly. She gave me an eyeful of wry amusement. 

Everyone else has gone on the facilities tour, she told me, dryly. It’s just you and me now against the world.
“Why didn’t anyone wake me up?”
“I don’t know, Cory, maybe because it didn’t really matter that much if you were there, or not.” Delancey tossed her brush aside with a flick of her wrist, all cool indifference and laidback ease. “But don’t feel too bad, I can show you around.”

I heaved myself out of bed with a groan and got dressed. My hair was in full-blown frizz by now, and regrettably, my jeans were increasingly difficult to slide on as they clung to my sweat-dampened legs. Delancey took me by the arm and led me out of our cabin.

The cabins lay near the entrance of the camp, with fresh, fertile land on one side and arid wasteland on the other. The oppressive sunlight filtered gently through the thick glass. The inside of the dome seemed to be a climate of its own, covering an enormous swathe of would-be-desert. It was a government project, Delancey had told me amicably, an attempt to preserve biodiversity as the changing climate and natural disasters ravaged the United States. Even now, there were creatures here that would never again exist outside. A brightly colored bird swooped down from overhead and hopped along behind us. Aren’t we lucky Delancey said, again in that wry voice of hers. Aren’t we lucky? Lucky? Aren’t we? The bird parroted the words back to us.

“I guess I feel lucky,” the humidity in the camp gave my skin a constant sweaty sheen. I tried to discreetly wipe away some of the sweat that had beaded on my forehead before Delancey noticed. She looked unaffected by the heat.
“Okay, well, I don’t.” I didn’t question Delancey, but the animals were pretty cool. 

Almost directly in the middle of the dome was an old lake that we were allowed to swim in, with paddle boats, kayaks, and life jackets strewn across its shore. Other campers splashed around in the shallow depths, basking in the coolness of the water. A mess hall and crafts tent stood dingy next to the glittering lake. Delancey tugged me over to Marlo who was spread out with just his toes dipped in a patch of sun.

“You better watch out for the counselors,” he smiled lazily. “It’s only your first day and you already missed the regularly scheduled activities.”
“Have you both been here before?”
“Every summer for years and years, yeah.” Delancey’s eyes flicked away from mine. “And nothing ever changes.” She threw a rock at the colorful bird, which squawked and shouted Aren’t we lucky?

 

 

I hadn’t seen a single camp counselor yesterday, but a flock of them descended onto the camp overnight. One caught me in the mess hall, as I ate between Marlo and Delancey. Marlo and I had raced around the lake on paddleboards while Delancey acted as the timekeeper and we were now feasting on the cafeteria-provided rations. In hindsight, Delancey’s height would not have shielded me much from the counselors’ field of vision, or heat sensors, or however they track us. 

He gave me an unnerving smile. I missed you on our tour yesterday, where were you? I did my best to grimace back. The nametag clipped to his shirt read “Tyler”. A continuous red light shone through the skin on his neck, and the other counselors too, who all seemed to be recording data on us. Tyler radiated a sickening heat with a metallic tinge. It cut through the wet air when he approached. His skin was slightly translucent and I could see lights and wires flashing below the surface just like veins bulging in a white man’s forehead. I thought about my dad, and the way his veins jumped out when he was angry, and thought about alibis to give.

“It’s her first time here, give her a break,” Marlo flapped his hand halfheartedly and shrugged. This is how they get you.
“Maybe fuck off Tyler?” Delancey grinned.

Repeat offenses mean that we may need to extend your stay at Camp Eden, Tyler buzzed angrily before wheeling away. Stay out of trouble Corinth, you’re a promising young woman, don’t let your friends define you.
That’s how all the counselors are, Marlo assured me, throwing an arm over my shoulder. Delancey squared her shoulders, They’ll find any reason to keep you here. 

 

 

I just wanted to know what Delancey’s deal was.
Marlo and I were loitering at the outskirts of a paved ball court; earlier Tyler had picked on Delancey to clean up the tennis balls after our morning group activity. 

“She’s around,” Marlo picked at the grass forcing its way through the concrete cracks. His nail beds were long and smooth, but ragged at the end where he occasionally chewed while thinking. He picked a place in the shade and tucked his long legs underneath him. I sat down next to him, seeking shelter from the glaring sun. “I think she’s been here for like eight years now, but I only got to know her a little bit ago.”
“If she just cooperated more with the staff maybe she wouldn’t be stuck here for so long.”
Marlo squinted at Delancey and Tyler, who were bickering in the distance. Delancey was a fixture of the camp; she moved through the foliage just as gracefully as any of the deer wove through the greenery. She also seemed to defy the counselors with any chance she had.

It’s not that simple. Marlo tugged at a loc of my hair. He had helped me twist them yesterday, with his practiced hands. “Just let her be. She’s working through her own shit.”

“I just don’t get those types of people.” 

The sun had burned away the coolness of last night early on. Not even the thick walls of Camp Eden provided any respite against the overbearing heat. Through the warped glass, I could see thin wisps of white cloud that floated high and dry above the Arizona desert. The cactus-people hunched over under the weight of the summer sun, baring their broad backs to the sky. 

Marlo stood up abruptly.
“Cory, there’s nothing wrong with Delancey.”
“I didn’t say there was.”

He towered over me. I looked up at him.
His black skin shone brightly, like wet pavement after a sudden bout of thankful rain. Marlo’s tattoos were slightly raised against his skin, so intrinsically Marlboro that my eyes had been glazing over them. As he turned away from me, the coils of his wet hair and silver jewelry danced in the sun.
“You know, us and her? We’re the same,” he said. In the eyes of the Camp, the counselors, and the world, we’re just like her. Try and understand that. He turned and strode away from me, his lanky frame carrying him swiftly. I watched as he receded into the tropical foliage. I remained for a while, hoping for someone to collect me, but Delancey and Tyler’s argument had taken them away from public eyes and into some administrative space. So I sat alone and I waited.  

 

 

Delancey burned as hot and as bright as the overhead sun and I began to miss the humidity that brought our arrival. She sat fuming at her bunk, not speaking to me. The administration had suggested that she be brought back for another two years, lengthening her stay just past her 18th birthday.
“Maybe you could ask them to reconsider?”
“Don’t talk to me.” 

Marlo stopped by to sit, so I left. 

“Sara!” I looked up from the ground to see Tyler addressing me.
“Tyler?”
“Sara do not give me any sass today. Report to the administrative office now. It’s time for your evaluation.” He grabbed my wrist and marched with me, not really giving me much of a choice. I tried to tell him that he had the wrong person, but he blinked onwards, unhearing. 

The administrative tent was tucked into a back corner of the Camp, an inconspicuous structure cradled by palm fronds, with spots of sunlight washing over its sloped walls. Tyler shooed a family of small primates out of the way. They chittered with good humor and mocked his waving arms before disappearing into the branches overhead.
Inside the dim tent, camp counselors sat in rows and rows, all connected to some sort of central mainframe. Their eyes were glazed over and softly blinking red and green– the way human eyes sometimes looked red in old flash photographs. The damp warmth of the tent was amplified by the acrid heat of metal and wires at work.
“I think you have it wrong,” I started to say, “I’m not–”
“11:30, Sara Alvarez,” one of the counselors intoned. 

You’ve been coming to Camp Eden for three years. You were recommended to our system after several issues in early high school, an argument with a teacher, failing academic performance, and truancy. Your family has an addictive and criminal history–
I waved my hand in front of her face.
“You’ve got it wrong, I’m Cory.”
Corinth! Our sincerest apologies for this mixup! 

I didn’t know many of the fellow campers, but I found Sara eventually, sitting at the shore of the lake with a group of other kids. She was a petite slip of a person, with wildly curly hair fluffing around her small heart-shaped face. Her gently sloping back peeked out of the low-back white dress she had on. I told her the counselors were looking for her. I told her they had gotten us mixed up. Oh.

“They always get me mixed up with other people,” she said quietly. “They’re not really built to recognize our faces like that, especially with the light source that is always shifting, and especially because their original software only ever saw white faces. Also, everything around here changes so fast it’s hard to keep every individual CPU updated.”
“Computer expert?”
“It’s a bad system,” she twirled her hair in her fingers absentmindedly. “I want to work with software one day.”
“They’re looking for you right now, you know.”
“What I do won’t change their evaluation. At least, if I wait for them to actually find me it might train the algorithm to recognize me better,” she smiled conspiratorially. “They’ll find me eventually.” 

 

 

They said this about me:
Corinth Anders, this is your first year at Camp Eden. Your adoptive father accepted our invitation after you displayed signs of depression and anxiety. You entered the foster care system because your birth mother had a history of mental illness and did not have the material conditions to provide for you. You are a good student, but you make unstable friends, which may negatively impact your development. We suggest your return to Camp Eden next summer and spend some more time at our campus until we are able to ensure that you are on the right track. All of this information will be transmitted to your father and he will make the executive decision, but we highly recommend your return.

Our final group activity was tug of war. It was finally a tepid day (as opposed to a sweltering one), and an artificial breeze shrugged through the foliage around us. Tyler and a posse of other counselors stood, eyes squinted and watching us as we struggled with the rope. Marlo anchored our team with his staunch, lanky frame. We won with a tumble to the ground and shared a tentative and sweaty high-five. He then pulled me into a terribly uncomfortable hug, but I didn’t protest, just breathed in Marlo’s slick body and his familiarity.

I apologized to Delancey afterward. She glowered at me briefly before making up her mind.
“Oh, Cory,” Delancey laughed and laughed until she clutched her stomach. “You’re so funny. Let’s do something fun before we never see each other again.”

 

 

Delancey sat next to me on the bus ride back. Marlo was behind us, next to Sara, who looked slightly annoyed to be away from her normal group of friends, but not too upset.

Unlike Marlo, Delancey slumped over and rested against me. Her face softened in her sleep. I brushed her silky hair out of her face and looked out the window. I watched the cactus-people race backward in time as we drove towards California. Their outstretched arms were a send-off, returning me back to my normal life.