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June understands the importance of charity and giving back to others, especially those less fortunate than herself. Really, she does. She just prefers charities that involve the beach, somehow, or a fancy gathering involving beautiful dinners and equally beautiful people in attendance.
Volunteering for the Girl Scouts at a summer camp out in the boonies of southern Maine is the absolute last item on the bottom of June's list of preferred charity ideas. So when her father surprised her by volunteering her for the job, all she could do was gape, pout, and reluctantly go along when he made clear that her only other option was to spend the weekend with one of his recently widowed good friends. She still blanches at the thought.
So now, one June Grace Thornton, darling daughter of one of the oldest families in town, waits on a bench at the bus station, swatting desperately at the numerous bug bites littering the skin of her neck and arms, on top of the sun burn already forming there. Her hair is matted, thrown loosely up in a bun to disguise the poor work of the terrible camp showers. She's wearing shorts and an old t-shirt of her mothers, and she's about seconds away from stamping her foot and/or kicking something at someone.
As it stands, she currently sits with her arms across her chest, waiting for some dumbass man lead by the pull of his libido more than his actual mind to pass her and buy her a drink so she can at least get buzzed on top of her lack of dignity.
[Poor pampered princess had a rough weekend in the woods, feel free to find on her the bus looking and acting ridiculous. Open to all, though I'll be slow to tag until after work today. I just wanted to get this post up, first.]
Volunteering for the Girl Scouts at a summer camp out in the boonies of southern Maine is the absolute last item on the bottom of June's list of preferred charity ideas. So when her father surprised her by volunteering her for the job, all she could do was gape, pout, and reluctantly go along when he made clear that her only other option was to spend the weekend with one of his recently widowed good friends. She still blanches at the thought.
So now, one June Grace Thornton, darling daughter of one of the oldest families in town, waits on a bench at the bus station, swatting desperately at the numerous bug bites littering the skin of her neck and arms, on top of the sun burn already forming there. Her hair is matted, thrown loosely up in a bun to disguise the poor work of the terrible camp showers. She's wearing shorts and an old t-shirt of her mothers, and she's about seconds away from stamping her foot and/or kicking something at someone.
As it stands, she currently sits with her arms across her chest, waiting for some dumbass man lead by the pull of his libido more than his actual mind to pass her and buy her a drink so she can at least get buzzed on top of her lack of dignity.
[Poor pampered princess had a rough weekend in the woods, feel free to find on her the bus looking and acting ridiculous. Open to all, though I'll be slow to tag until after work today. I just wanted to get this post up, first.]
