Sitting here in a hotel in Prescott, Arizona, I think about weird coincidences life brings me. I am writing stories about my youth attending Sky-Y-Camp and here I am not 10 miles from the place. Brought here unexpectedly for work, I have forgone the nightly ritual of debriefing the crazy bitches so that I can have some alone time.

I am here with 4 of them. Brina, is my partner in crime. I usually take out of town trips with her. MJ is PunkAss’ baby momma. Mika is annoyingly dimwitted. Chris is depressingly homophobic, every word out of her mouth is “That’s gay”. After days of being with them, I need a little time to myself.

I haven’t visited Sky-Y-Camp not because I am afraid it won’t live up to the memories, but because it seems a little creepy having an old guy look around a kids camp.

Sky-Y camp had four values; caring, honesty, respect and responsibility. All of our events were driven by these values, though I can’t tell you what an egg toss has to with any of them. Didn’t seem we were caring much for the baby chickens as the eggs exploded all over the campers. The mantra was posted all over the place. The bathrooms, the showers, the lunch room, the cabins, it was inescapable. And still it was lost on many who attended the camp.

Victor was one of those rare breeds, dark-skinned, mixed race with beautiful blue-green eyes and red hair, all the girls, no matter the race went gaga for him. Tall and not particularly great looking the blue-green eyes sucked you in. He was also very charming, while not particularly bright, he constantly ranked high in classes because he charmed the smart girls into doing his homework. He wasn’t a bad guy, we had hung out a couple of times we just didn’t have the same interests.

Victor was dating Arlene. Through the years, Arlene was the good girl, she was always at the top of the class and involved in this or that club. Or so I thought. Sometime during the 5th grade she snapped and tried to poison the teacher. She was expelled from school and didn’t come back until the middle of the 6th grade. Part of her punishment was to stand before the whole class and explain what she had done and why she had done it. Embarrassing for her and for us, it was really the first time that people realized that there consequences to our actions and punishment could be a bitch. She immediately hooked up with Victor after coming back.

Arlene really wasn’t Victor’s type. He usually went for the skinny White or Hispanic girls. Arlene was a big black beautiful young woman. When she came back she came with an attitude. Arlene came back and changed from being a good girl to being a total raving bitch. Didn’t seem that the punishment was taken to heart. She started dressing slutty, with low cut dress and very short skirts. More than once she was sent to the nurse’s office to “borrow” from lost and found. She would come back dressed head to foot in a full length sweater, and if she even hinted at opening it, she was sent to the principals office.

I had no quarrels with either of them until the last day of Sky-Y Camp.

We were hiking up a hill when out of no-where Victor starts talking to Martin. I didn’t hear the first of it, but I knew he was picking on Martin, everyone picked on Martin. Half the size of the biggest guys in our class, he was an easy target for all. I have an inflated sense of justice when it comes to the underdog. This would not be the first time I stood up for Martin, nor would it be the last.

“Leave him alone”, I said to Victor, giving him the best Don’t-fuck-with-the-little-one look.

“What? I just asked him if he had ever had pussy around the neck.”, Victor replied, “What about you, Rick? Ever got some.” Arlene giggled on his arm.

I had no idea what “pussy around the neck” was. I wasn’t a virgin, but still I blushed. I had that problem until I was 16 or so, where I would blush all over. To some it was endearing, to others a source of hilarity to me it was embarrassingly out of my control. I hated it. I looked at him said “A gentleman never tells”. Even to me it sounded lame, but I had nothing to share with these people. I had no reason to impress them. Arlene and Victor walked off laughing.

Arlene and Victor stayed together for a couple of years. I would hear rumors about them but didn’t have any direct contact with either of them until after high school. I was downtown and riding the shuttle about taking care of some business when Arlene got on. I recognized her immediately. I hoped she wouldn’t see me or she wouldn’t recognize me. Luck was not on my side and she immediately sat in front of me and we exchanged pleasantries. I hoped that was end of it and it was for a few minutes when she turned around and started asking me questions about religion. I was taken aback. I wasn’t sure how to answer her questions. I answered the best I could, but she was never satisfied with my answers. Some how I felt like she was trying to brain wash me. Not being particularly fond of organized religion even then, I took the offensive.

“How’s Victor?” , I asked knowing full well that she had sinned with the boy and would not be able to continue talking about Jesus with me. I was wrong.

“The Devil took him home.”, she replied and without missing a beat started telling me what was wrong with the Catholic Church.

“Wait, what do you mean the Devil took him home?’, I asked incredulous that someone I knew had died.

“You know, he passed away, God rest his soul”,  she answered, pulling out a Bible that had obviously been over used, “He died of the gay disease, they burned his body and salted the earth where they scattered the ashes”, she spit a little after saying it. I thought how weird it was for a Born Again Christian to perform such a pagan ritual.

She continued on about Christ, and how she wished she could save everyone or some such. But I was thinking about Victor. He was the second person I knew died of AIDS but he was my age. “You should get tested”, I said without much thought to what she was saying. “You should get tested, I said again over her protests, “It is a sexually transmitted disease, and it isn’t only gays who get it” and then I pulled the cord to tell the driver I wanted to get off.  She was rambling on about gays deserving to die for their sins. I looked at her square in the eye as I got up to leave and said loudly “Get tested. Even Christians die from this. Jesus doesn’t protect them when they have sex with someone who is infected”.

She was yelling at me as I got off the shuttle, but I paid her no mind. I had said what I had to say and she had given me something to think about. I had walked off the bus well away from my destination just to make a point and I would end up walking 5 blocks in the blistering heat to make a point. Ever the martyr, it was worth it.

I have never seen Arlene again, nor do I want to. None of my childhood friends speak of her, so she may be still with us or gone. I make no assumptions about her, I only hope that she took my advice to get tested better than I took her advice to find Jesus.