Day 15 Challenge and Bonus

“Wake up sleepyhead,” her mother called. “You’re going to be late.”

The boy rolled over and looked at her clock: 6 AM. “Mom, I won’t be.”

“You better get out of bed now!”

“Alright,” he whined. At 12, Kiliaen Van Rossum had lived a life of privilege, having been raised by a cadre of others - nannies, butlers, maids – while his parents jetted off to Europe, the Caribbean, or Hawaii, but now his mother, Cornelia, was home, wanting to be a better mother to her children.

Kiliaen sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyes. Today was the first day of summer vacation and he had plans, plans to do nothing. His parents had other ideas. Importantly, they wanted him to associate with children his own age, kids not related to him. To that end, they were sending him to a summer camp in the Adirondacks, one that a brochure had promised, “Days of activities geared to get your child out and about: Swimming, nature hikes, games of skill.”

“Get a move on,” his mother cried out. “The bus leaves in an hour, and we have at least 20 minutes of travel time to get to the pick-up point.”

“Yes mother.” The preteen’s sarcasm had a purpose, though he knew it wouldn’t do him any good. He was still going away. Begrudgingly, he slid off the bed and headed off to his bathroom.



“What kind of name is Kiliaen anyway?” The older boy stood over the shorter, young one, his left foot on his throat. His name was Harry Kyle, 14-years-old and from a town near the Canadian border. An only child and never disciplined by his older, doting parents, Harry allowed to do what he wanted, and that included tormenting younger children. It was his grandmother’s idea to send him to camp: It would be good for him to be in a place where he could play away his aggression.

“Sounds kind of girly,” another tough added. Phil Jameson was the stereotypical middle child: Always looking for attention and friendship. A little overweight, he was sent to camp to “run off some of his fat,” as his father said.

Kiliaen struggled to get away, to run back to his cabin and away from the older boys. Since his arrived, the boy was the target for the older, jealous children, teased and taunted for having a different first name than the others, and for being from a rich family. He hated this. He wanted to return home and be with those people that were nice to him, whether or not paid to be so. He hit the older boy’s leg again, and as before, to no avail.

“Look Harry, I bet that hurt,” a third older boy said. Kenny Wahl was small for his age, frail looking but with a quick mind. He was the brains of the three, using passive-aggressive suggestions to get both Harry and Phil to do what he wanted. However, picking on the new, rich kid wasn’t his idea. Harry thought of it all by himself.

“Let me go,” Kiliaen begged. He continued to bang on the older boy’s leg without success.

“Hey you,” an adult female’s voice said from the woods. Head Councilor Samantha Champion was a semester short of her Doctorate in Child Development. She loved working with children, especially here at Camp Juniper, a place where she spent many summers, first as a camper then as a teen councilor, finally becoming to her position last summer. “Get off of him.”

“Sure thing, Miss Champion,” Harry said. He removed his foot from Kiliaen and backed away. He looked around and saw he was alone: His associates ran away.

She put her hands on her hips and scowled. “What did I tell you would happen if I caught you harassing or tormenting another camper?”

“I would be sent home,” he answered. He looked down at his feet and kicked at a stone. It was an act: He didn’t mind being out of this place.

Miss Champion corrected him. “No, that’s not what I said. I told you that I would put you on kitchen duty for the rest of the time you’re here.”

Coldness ran down Kiliaen’s spine: His tormenter would still be here. He quickly stood and spoke. “No! He’ll still be here, still be able to beat me up or have his friends do it.”

“I can promise you he won’t.” Miss Champion grabbed the older child by the arm and started to return to the main cabin.

“No,” the younger boy said just before balling his first and hitting his tormenter in the jaw. Harry spun out the grip and fell to the ground, knockout by the well-placed sucker punch.

The councilor looked at the young man and shook her head. “I’m calling you parents as soon as we get back to camp.”



“Do you know why I pulled you over?” the police officer said to the driver.

“No, officer, I don’t.” The man, in his mid-20s, reached for the glove box to retrieve his insurance and registration cards. Experience told him that once a law officer pulled you over, he would want to see them.

“I think he will tell you.” The cop pointed to the man opening the passenger side door. The man, dressed in an impeccable gray suit, sat and looked at the man.

“Do you remember me?”

The driver looked at the man and shook his head. “I can’t say I do.”

“Do you remember a Kiliaen?”

“Oh,” the driver said. His eyes widened and fear drained all the color from his face.

“Indeed,” Van Rossum said. The police officer returned to his car as a van pulled up in front of Harry Kyle’s car.




Bonus Sprint Total: 686