Not far from the entrance to the camp, a blue-tinged silver sports car would come barreling down the rural road, its speakers blasting bass filled music loud enough that it made figuring out what kind of music it even was almost impossible. The vehicle was sleek, luxurious, and from the looks of it, downright expensive, and it roared towards the drop off zone, kicking up huge clouds of dust as it did. Inside the car, a middle-aged man in a fur coat, sunglasses, and way too much cologne jammed out to the blaring cacophony, occasionally getting the barely decipherable tune right. Much to the annoyance of his sixteen year old son.
"Dad, please!" Anthony would shout over the throng, or at least try to. "Turn this shit off and drive like a fucking normal person!"
"Ah come on son! Doesn't this get you excited?! You're going to camp, where you can pick up cute little teen chicks and get away from your stepmom, cause I know you hate her almost as much as I do! If she wasn't such a good lay, I would've divorced her years ago!"
"Dad thats fucking gross! I don't need to hear about this! Just stop the car and I'll walk the rest of the way!"
"And miss my chance to look like a good dad and perv on some counselors?! No way in hell, Tony, so just deal with it!"
The shouting match would continue up until the point the car pulled up to a sudden stop, music only growing louder once Tony opened the door and practically scrambled to get away from his embarrassment of a father figure. The tall, large-framed young man wore exceptionally baggy black cargo shorts, a scruffy looking black button down that looked like it once cost a lot of money, and black combat boots he'd gotten for his birthday last year, from a military surplus store. Several piercings adorned each ear, as well as a black lip ring and two nose studs planted in the bridge of his nose. He had the sort of face that looked like it might always be angry, and eyes full of contempt that only a neglected yet spoiled rich kid could possess. Reaching back into the car, he'd snatch the entrance forms away from his father's hands as the flashy 30-something year old man played with his hair in car mirror. More shouting would ensue until Anthony slammed his door shut, half-stomping up to the nearest counselor as his father drove off even erratically than he'd arrived.
Anthony Solfel would practically shove the papers into the much shorter woman's face (Claire), before reaching into his suitcase to look for his music player and his headphones.
