As always this story is exclusively my property and may not be republished or redistributed without my permission. Any resemblance to people or places living, dead or non-existent is merely a coincidence.
---
Chris was sitting on his duffel bag under a tree, just off to the side of the hustle and bustle of the other campers getting on the buses or getting picked up to go home. He waved to a few of the female counsellors who waved back and blew kisses to him. Chris grinned and chuckled to himself, the summer had been pretty great for him. Graduating with honours from high school, getting a full scholarship and having a blowout eighteenth birthday had started it. By the end of it he'd managed to lay a couple of the cute female counsellors that were his age. Not a bad summer at all in his books.
He was waiting for his step-sister 'Scar' to come pick him up. He shuddered at the thought of finally meeting her. What kind of girl would call herself 'Scar' anyway? He would have met her at their parents' wedding in May, but apparently she couldn't leave Quebec because she was under house arrest or something for stealing a car.
His step-dad Steve hadn't really told Chris a whole lot about his daughter, just that she was his age and a bit of a rebel, and that she was lead singer in an all girl punk band called 'The Shrieking Harpies'. It seemed to Chris that Steve was probably a bit embarrassed about Scar. Chris had seen pictures of her when she was younger and she'd looked a bit scary back then, with jet black hair and a serious Goth look going on. So he had visions of this metal-studded and tattooed bitch-dog dressed in way too tight Lycra screaming into a mike. Chris shuddered again and waited anxiously to see what kind of 'thing' was going to pick him up.
Scar pulled her car onto the long gravel driveway and followed it up to the camp's main parking lot. There were a half dozen school buses parked on one side of the lot and a bunch of cars on the other. She slowly dodged around kids with backpacks, parents and counsellors then pulled into a spot and got out, looking for her step-brother. Her Dad had at least been kind enough to give her a recent picture of Chris. She'd been surprised that he was actually kind of cute. He looked kind of dorky and skinny in the picture but he had been goofing off and had a nice smile.
She pulled Chris' picture out of her vest pocket and unfolded it, then started wandering around looking for him. Scar was concentrating so hard on finding him that she didn't notice that wherever she walked people stopped to stare.
She looked around again and saw that she was being stared at, "What? You all got a problem? Any of you know a Chris Thornton?" She said rather too loudly and frowning.
One of the counsellors pointed in Chris' direction and she headed toward him. People continued to stare as she passed them but she ignored them like she always did. Shit like this always pissed her off.
Chris saw that the crowds of people were moving to make room for someone. 'Oh great!' he thought to himself, 'The ditch-pig must be here.' He stood up and grabbed his pack then looked up into the most amazing hazel eyes he'd ever seen.
Scar stopped in front of Chris and put her hands on her hips as she popped her chewing gum, "You Chris?" She said with a sneer.
Chris gaped for just a second longer before responding, "Uh yeah, you're Scar?"
With another pop of her gum Scar held out her hand to him, "Sup? You ready to go?"
"Yeah sure, lead on." Chris said as he shook her hand. He followed along behind her in a daze, his eyes riveted on her swaying ass and hips. Scar was definitely in no way a ditch-pig, he thought to himself. She was drop-dead fucking gorgeous! She was wearing skin-tight black jeans, a white tee, biker boots and a leather vest. He figured she was about five-five, and she had long platinum blond hair in a braid that went down almost to that perfect ass. Her legs were long and slim under those skin-tight jeans and she had a narrow waist.
Scar was glad that Chris was walking behind her, she was having a hard time calming her breathing. She cursed her dad for giving her what was obviously an older picture of him. Chris looked like he should be standing in a loincloth in the jungle somewhere, not babysitting a bunch of snot noses at 'Camp Hooda-phak-cares'. He was definitely not the kind of guy she would even look at twice normally, 'boy scout' came to mind but wow was he a hunk. Dressed in board shorts and a Beatles t-shirt his tanned arms and legs showed their hard muscles when he moved.
They got to the car and Scar popped the trunk so Chris could dump his pack in. Once they were ready she turned on the GPS and pulled out of her spot and drove back out to the main road. Chris and Scar drove along in uncomfortable silence, Scar following the directions that the GPS was giving her to head back home.
Chris looked out his side window and whistled, directing Scar's attention to the huge thunder heads coming their way.
"Oh fuck that's gonna be nasty," Scar muttered as she returned her attention to her driving.
Chris laughed at her understatement, "No shit! We'd better stop at the diner at Mitchell's Corner and wait it out."
"Mitchell's what?" Scar asked him.
"Mitchell's Corner," Chris replied as he shook his head. "It should be coming up any minute now when we come to highway 24."
The car pounded into a rut then bounced back out and into a pothole. It was then that Chris realized that there was something wrong. The roads to get home were all smoothly paved and this road felt more like an old hunting road than a country track.
"Hey Scar? This doesn't look like the road that leads to the camp. Are you sure you've got the GPS set up right?"
Scar gave Chris a withering look, "It bloody well better be. I bought it just so I could find this armpit of the universe. I'll pull off to the side here and check the settings."
With that she pulled the car to the edge of the road and started tapping the screen to see what was wrong. In the time she took to check the manual and settings for the GPS the storm had caught them, slashing down in great sheets of water and thundering cracks of lightning.
Chris started to get really worried, knowing that the dirt roads in this area were easily washed out during bad storms. "Scar we gotta move or we'll get stuck here, these dirt roads turn into mud bogs pretty fast when it rains like this."
"Shit, yeah let's get outta here." Scar said as she put the car into gear. She gave it some gas and the wheels just spun in the already slick mud of the road. Dropping the car down into first she tried again with the same result. Frustrated, Scar gunned the engine and the front end of the car started to slide toward the edge of the road.
Feeling the slide, Chris yelled "Scar no! Stop it!" But it was already too late, the car followed the slope down from the road, and tumbled onto it's roof in the culvert thirty feet below the roadbed.
Once the car hit bottom Scar checked herself out. Her right knee was aching from where it had jammed against the dash but she was okay otherwise. She looked over at Chris and swore mentally, the roof on his side had crushed in and the impact had knocked him senseless. She unfastened her seat belt and gently eased her step-brother down once she unhooked his belt.
"Chris! Boy-scout! Come on wake up." She said as she slapped his cheeks.
Chris's eyes fluttered open and he gave Scar a dazed look for a moment before he was able to focus. "Are you okay? We need to get out before we get flooded here," he slurred.
"Yeah. My right knee's hurting like a bitch but I'm okay. How about you?" Scar asked, concern in her voice.
"I got a wicked-ass headache because you dropped a car on my head, but other than that I think I'm fine too." Chris replied sarcastically.
Scar gave Chris another evil look and turned to kick her door open then helped him out of the car. The water was already rising in the ditch and getting deeper by the minute. They grabbed Chris's duffel bag from the trunk and looked at each other for a moment in the downpour. Chris notice that Scar's tee was almost see through now that it was soaked, Not that he was in any better shape clothes-wise.
