Wilhelmina Winters, Forty-Five

February 5: Chemistry

I haven’t written in a long time. Paper and pencils are scarce and I can’t always get good light to see by. Also, I don’t always remember to write.

They keep us pretty busy here at Camp. I think that’s also why I can’t write frequently. Frequently. Frequency. The teacher just talked about frequency.

He wants us to call him “doctor,” but I think that’s weard. He isn’t a doctor that can heal people. He just really likes science and went to a lot of school learning about science.

If I went to school for that long, I would not want to end up teaching jr high.

What would I want, you wonder? Well… I can’t say exactly, in case this diary gets taken by Them. Let’s just say it’s more interesting than teaching. And it would pay better. And I wouldn’t have to deal with kids. Kids are mean.

Actually, I have met some nice kids finally! I suppose it’s more like they met me. I really wondered how they knew me, until I talked to one of them today. She is unnerving. We learned that word yesterday, and that is Hope. Maybe that can be a talent listed.

Oh, yeah: they have this thing for listing -Oh, nevermind. Secrecy. I keep forgetting.

Anyway. I really wanted to say that I don’t know why they talked to me. Or why they think I belong with them. Most people say I can’t pay attention and that I don’t understand people. Does anyone understand people?  It seems like I always hear adults saying they don’t understand teenagers, so how can I be expected to understand?

Dr. L. just lit his notes on fire. a bit. At least he’s funny, though I don’t think he means to be that exciting. Maybe. I can’t tell what he is really thinking because of those thick glasses he wears.

They all are masters of disguise here at Camp: watching us when we don’t think they are, reporting what we do. I need to be more careful. More discreet (right, Mr. Poll?). He’ll like that I use so many vocabulary words, I’m sure.

I’ll keep this hidden so it won’t get found. But I will also write discreet in case they are watching.

Speaking of watching, someone is in this class with me. I don’t want him to be punished by Them, but I have to write it. Someone has a nice smile. And dreamy eyes. Maybe he’s nice to everyone though?

I had that dream again, but I could feel other people in the woods. And, I was holding a letter.

I hope I find out what’s going on.

I hope they really like me.

-W. W.

 

Continued from Forty-Four.
Keep reading to Forty-Six.

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