Camp Utopia & the Forgiveness Diet (9781940192567) by Jenny Ruden Read Free Book Online

It was not the kind of transportation I’d envisioned for the students at California University. “We’re lost,” continued the driver. He pointed his thumb at the girl sitting next to him. “My sister forgot the directions.”
    Was it that obvious I was en route to fat camp?
    Aiming my drink toward the signs sprouting from the manicured grass that read, Utopia this way ››› , I stated the obvious. “I think it’s right over there. You know, where the signs are pointing.”
    That was when the passenger, a kid by the looks of her, smacked her forehead. “I told you this was it, estúpido . You never listen to me.” Then she climbed straight out of the truck’s window, turning around only to yell, “ Hasta, ’mano ,” before tearing off through the grass.
    The truck fell silent, and I wondered if he’d turned off the engine or if it had simply died.
    â€œSisters,” said the driver. “ Jodiendos .”
    Let’s hope that word summed up sisterhood accurately, because I nodded, indicating I had sibling problems of my own. The driver scratched his head, and a few long strands of hair slid down to cover his eyes. He moved the bangs away and looked at me for a beat. Maybe he was embarrassed to pull away—afraid when he tried, the truck wouldn’t start? He cocked an elbow out of the window. “So,” he began, “you wouldn’t happen to know where Copernicus is, would you?”
    I sipped my espresso. “I’m pretty sure he died a few centuries ago.”
    The dude grinned crookedly. He looked younger than a college student, maybe around my age. He had dark hair and dark eyes, and his words kind of jumbled together when he spoke. “Good point,” he mused. “I guess I’ll just ask somebody else. It’s a big campus. Someone’ll know.” Of course three people walked by, and he didn’t ask any of them. He just sat there. Something told me he felt as out of place as me. Maybe he was letting his truck warm up or whatever it required before moving. In the meantime, I checked my phone.
    Hey Bee. Guess what? I can levitate a full three inches off the ground! ISYN. So, are you in Cali? Is it beautiful??
    I wondered how to answer TJ honestly when the truck parked in front of me distorted my view. Mr. Busted-Truck fiddled with a stereo button and loud angry-boy music swelled in the quiet morning. “One more thing,” he said to me over the stereo. “Before you go to class or whatever, I thought I should mention something. Well.” He shifted some unidentifiable truck part. “You’d look a whole lot better if—”
    Oh Lord. Not this. Not now.
    â€œNot that you look bad. It’s just that.”
    If this guy said what I thought he was about to say, I would absolutely die. Just frickin’ kill me.
    â€œWell,” I heard the squeak of a clutch. “It’s just that you have. You have trash in your hair. I thought I should let you know.”
    Then he took off. Finally.
    So much for college encounters. The boys here seemed just as eager to point out a flaw as high schoolers. Oh well, at least he wasn’t on the verge of recommending a diet. Absorbed in the toxic black cloud the truck imparted, I felt around in my hair because, well, I had to check now. Sure enough, up around my forehead, I felt something sticky. I wondered why, for the last hundred miles or so, no one had bothered to tell me something was stuck in my hair. My trip replayed in my mind, only now every scene featured a giant chunk of gum in my hair, and Jackie and Doug pretending not to see it.
    I finally separated the tangle and saw it was a faded yellow piece of paper, dirtied with tar. When I smoothed it out, I reunited with the Colonel Carolina Chicken napkin I could’ve sworn tumbled down the highway in Ohio.
    I forgive my sister for killing Doug’s baby.
    Just arrived, I texted