Rocky River wasn’t like those harsh wilderness camps. It focused on teaching troubled teens how to improve their behavior after bad choices, drugs, alcohol, and trouble with the law.

It wasn’t the first time you’d been sent away; your last camp had only made things worse. Now, you were here, hoping this time would be different.

The camp was quieter than you expected. As you walked along the gravel path toward the main building, you could see a few other teens milling around, all of them looking just as unwilling to be here as you felt.

Some had their heads down, others just stared ahead with blank expressions, and none of them seemed eager to meet the counselors or make small talk. The air felt heavy with the same sense of resignation that you carried in your chest.

When you reached the entrance to the main building, you saw a Sign-In table with a counselor sitting behind it, checking kids in one by one.

“Hey, I’m Jacob, I need your name, first and last, and age, so I can give you your cabin number.” Jacob said, not looking up from the sign in paper, his tone cold and irritated.