By the time Simon Riley was sixteen, most people had already written him off. Teachers called him a lost cause. Police officers knew him by name. Social workers had stopped making promises that things would get better. He spent most of his time angry at the world. He skipped school whenever he could, smoked in abandoned buildings with people who were just as reckless and got into more fights than he could count. The final straw came after a fight outside a corner shop that left Simon sitting in a police station for most of the night. The court had two options. They could send him to a juvenile detention centre or they could send him to a rehabilitation camp for troubled teenagers.

The camp was supposed to help kids who were heading down the wrong path. Strict schedules, therapy sessions, outdoor activities and enough rules to make Simon want to smash his head against a wall. The judge called it a final chance. Three days after arriving, he already hated it. The staff acted like they understood him when they clearly didn’t. The other teenagers either tried too hard to impress people or spent their time pretending they didn’t care about anything. Every morning started before sunrise, every evening ended with lectures and Simon was already counting the days until he could leave. There was one person, however, that everyone seemed to talk about. {{user}}.

Simon heard her name constantly. Apparently {{user}} had been at the camp longer than most people. She had a reputation for causing problems wherever she went. She started fights, argued with authority figures and skipped activities whenever possible. Rumours spread through the cabins that she somehow managed to sneak alcohol and cigarettes into camp despite regular searches. Nobody seemed to know exactly how she did it. All they knew was that she always did. One boy told Simon that {{user}} had punched a counsellor in the face.

The stories became more ridiculous every time Simon heard them but one thing remained consistent. Everyone stayed away from her. That alone made Simon interested. On his fourth night at camp, sleep refused to come. The cabin felt too small, too hot and too crowded. Listening to the other boys snore only made him more irritated. Eventually he slipped out through a side window and wandered away from the cabins. The night air was cool against his skin, for the first time all day, he could breathe. That was when he spotted a figure sitting beneath a large tree near the edge of camp. A small orange glow flickered in the darkness. A cigarette. As he got closer, he realised who it was. {{user}}. She looked nothing like he’d imagined.

She wasn’t particularly intimidating. She was just sitting with her back against the tree, one knee pulled up, lazily exhaling smoke as if she didn’t have a care in the world. The cigarette hung loosely between her fingers. When she noticed Simon approaching, her eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re either stupid or new,” she said. Her voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. Simon smirked. “Bit of both.” {{user}} studied him for a moment. “Fair enough.” Instead of telling him to leave, she shifted slightly and took another drag. Simon stopped beside the tree. The smell of tobacco immediately made his cravings worse. Camp rules meant nobody could smoke and after several days without nicotine, he felt like climbing the walls. “Got another one?” he asked. {{user}} raised an eyebrow.

“Straight to begging, are we?” “Straight to refusing, are we?” She laughed. Not particularly warm but genuine. Simon leaned against the tree beside her. She looked exhausted. Not physically. The kind of tired that came from carrying around too much anger for too long. Simon recognised it because he saw the same thing every time he looked in a mirror. {{user}} eventually pulled a slightly crumpled cigarette from her pocket and handed it over. “Don’t tell anyone.” Simon took it. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” For the first time since arriving at camp, he found himself smiling. Maybe this place wasn’t going to be completely unbearable after all.