Breaking Point

Breaking Point

Lesley Choyce

ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

Copyright © 2012 Lesley Choyce

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Choyce, Lesley, 1951-
Breaking point [electronic resource] / Lesley Choyce.

(Orca soundings)

Electronic monograph.
Issued also in print format.
ISBN
978-1-4598-0130-1 (
PDF
).--
ISBN
978-1-4598-0131-8 (
EPUB
)

I. Title. II. Series: Orca soundings (Online)
PS
8555.
H
668
B
74 2012           
J
C813'.54           
C
2011-907837-6

First published in the United States, 2012
Library of Congress Control Number:
2011943734

Summary:
Escaping from a wilderness camp for young offenders,
Cameron and Brianna end up in a struggle for survival.

Orca Book Publishers is dedicated to preserving the environment and has printed this book on paper certified by the Forest Stewardship Council
^®
.

Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

Cover photography ® Kablunk! / Masterfile

www.orcabook.com
Printed and bound in Canada.

15  14  13  12  •  4  3  2  1 

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter One

It was raining when I arrived at Camp Mosher on the Eastern Shore of Nova Scotia. Buckets of rain falling from a gray dead sky. I regretted my decision to come here. It was my choice. I could have been warm and dry up in the Valley in the so-called Nova Scotia Youth Facility in Walkerton. But I'd been there before and hated the dorks who were in charge.

So when they gave me the chance to go somewhere else, I jumped at it. Camp Mosher, just somewhere short of the end of the earth.

I got off the stupid bus, and as the other kids ran for the building, I just stood there in the rain and got soaked. I looked around. Nothing but trees, rocks and water. Lots of water. They had told me this would be different. That it would be tough. I'd have to learn about survival, about wilderness. About myself.

Don't get me wrong, I knew that was a pile of crap. And I'd never really had any interest in boats or camping or idiotic stuff like that. I just thought the deal was either three weeks here or ten weeks back in Walkerton. So here I was. I felt the rain soak all the way through my jacket and pants. I was cold and I was drenched, and I could see I'd made a big fat mistake.

That's when some big asshole came up behind me, smacked me on the back and started pushing me toward the building. “They say turkeys are so stupid, they don't know when to get in out of the rain,” he said as I tried to elbow him without turning around.

I thought about running just then. I didn't deserve to put up with this.

But I had nowhere to run to. Hell, I didn't really even know exactly where I was, except that I was on the coast of Nova Scotia, far from Halifax. Far from anywhere.

I turned around to look at the goon who was on my case. He was the size of a football player, and he had on some kind of rain poncho with the hood drooped down over his face. I guess my hands had automatically cramped up into fists, because the goon flipped his hood down and looked me in the eye. “Cameron, right?”

“Yeah,” I said. He was big. Way out of my league.

“You like it out here?” he asked, an edge in his voice.

“Whaddaya mean?”

“You like the rain?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Maybe I do.”

I thought he was gonna shove me or drag me inside or something. But he didn't. “Okay for you, buddy,” he said, flipping his poncho hood back up. “But this isn't the shopping mall. You're gonna have to stay dry if you want to survive.”

And then he walked away.

I began to shiver. And that's when I looked to the inlet, saw the kayaks and canoes. There were even a few paddles. I thought all I'd have to do was run to the water, grab a boat and get the hell out of here.

Instead, I walked toward the main building, feeling like a loser, like I had nothing left of me.

Inside the building, I found myself in some kind of dining hall with shiny wood walls like you'd see in those old movies about kids going to summer camp. The windows were all steamed up. Some kids were walking around. Some were sitting. I recognized some of them as the losers who had come here on the bus with me from Halifax. But then I realized that there weren't just guys. There were girls here too. They must have arrived ahead of us on another bus. They were all sitting at tables on the other side of the room.

I just stood there dripping water on the floor. I didn't know which I hated more—standing out in the rain, or standing here inside the door with all those eyes looking at me like I was the biggest loser in the place. Again, I was ready to just turn and run. That was my style. I was a runner. When I found myself freaking out in school, or when the shit hit the fan, or when I'd do some idiot thing that was about to get me in big trouble, I'd spin on my heels and run. That's the way I'd saved my ass a dozen times, caught inside people's houses when I was ripping them off.

I always got away.

Well, not always.

But here, now, with everyone staring at me, where the hell was I going to run to?

That's when I saw her. She was staring at me. But not like the others. They all had some kind of smirk or goofy smile. She looked like she felt sorry for me. Her eyes were fixed on me, and when I made eye contact, I couldn't look away. Her long dark hair was wet, and it was clinging to the sides of her face, framing it. And the way she was looking at me made me feel like she knew who I was.
Really
knew me. Who was this girl?

That's when the big guy walked over to me. “If you want some dry clothes, follow me.”

I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't stand there all day. I wanted to talk to that girl, but that wasn't going to work in front of all the others. So I followed the dude.

“I'm Chris,” he said as he led me out of the dining hall and down a hallway. “You'll be seeing a lot of me. I'm not exactly going to be your best friend. But I'm not a total pain in the ass either.”

He pointed to a storage room, and I saw the clothes hanging up on racks. I walked in. Chris didn't follow. “Just come back and join us when you've found some stuff that fits.”

I found a hoodie and some pants and somebody's old running shoes that fit. I cursed myself again for ending up here. For getting caught. For getting that lousy judge who decided to make things hard on me instead of just giving me the usual slap on the wrist. Everything sucked big-time. I wanted to scream.

So I did.

A few seconds later, Chris poked his head back in the room, although he didn't seem particularly concerned. “Guess this isn't the happiest day of your life?”

“I've had worse,” I said.

“I've been where you are. I know it feels like shit.”

“And this is supposed to cheer me up?”

“Not at all. Just wanted you to know. Come have something to eat. Food used to be crap here. But it's improved.”

So I followed him back to the hall, but when I got there, the girls were all gone. She wasn't there. Chris led me to the food counter and handed me a tray. When I got my food and sat down at the closest table, two guys at the table started laughing. I wanted to scream for a second time.

But I didn't. I pretended they weren't there. I decided to think about something, anything that would keep me from losing it. So I pictured her face. Her eyes. I wondered how I was going to get to meet this girl.

Chapter Two

I kept to myself that first day and tried to keep my head down. The rain pounded on the metal roof through the night, and then it suddenly stopped at around 3:00
AM
. I was lying there on my bunk thinking that I didn't deserve this. I'd screwed up and got caught. I'd spent time at Walkerton before, where I'd learned more tricks of the trade from other kids there. Then I'd gone back home and used what I'd learned. Breaking and entering. It's a skill like any other one. Even with security systems, it was usually a piece of cake. What I hadn't factored in was unmarked, silent video surveillance.

In the morning the sun was out. By 8:30, twelve of us were standing on the shoreline of the inlet wearing life jackets or pfds—personal flotation devices. In front of each of us was a sea kayak. Chris handed me a two-bladed paddle and pointed to the red kayak in front of me. I looked at it and then out at the water. I have to admit, I liked what I saw—blue, sparkling and beautiful.

Chris gave this big boring lecture about safety, and I didn't pay much attention. I kept thinking about the girl. And then we were finally on the water. I was snug inside the kayak with the spray skirt, the piece of rubber meant to keep water out, tight around my waist. It was like the kayak was part of me. At first it felt pretty wobbly, but as I got moving, things smoothed out and I was thinking, Hey, this is easy. I'm loving this.

We were all together in a group, headed toward a rocky island ahead. I felt like I needed some more space, so I took a deep stroke with my paddle and split off to the left. The sun in my face and the smell of salt water all around made me a little dizzy, and I was thinking I hadn't felt this good in a long, long time. But then I heard someone yelling. Chris.

“Cameron. Get back with us. Don't screw around.”

Well, I guess I knew that was coming. Only thing is, I had this little voice in my head that said,
Don't do it. Just keep going.