Glass Dances

2 Camp Nowhere

2 Camp Nowhere

     Training camp was the first great financial drain.

     In the months preceding, Aunt Caryn, who lived with us, had generously paid me for babysitting the twins. My mother added what she could, and Ms. Hall had worked out payment arrangements with some of the girls for the remaining balance.

     The practice retreat was a compound of cabins sprinkled around a wooded lake. The cabins each contained two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchenette. Four girls shared each cabin. My cabin mates were Dani, Ashleigh, and Erin.

     On the arrival date, Dani and I were the first of our group to reach our lodging. Talking nonstop, we clumped across the wooden porch and wrestled our overstuffed bags into the entryway. With a plop, the luggage, and other bags, dropped to the floor while we stared around at the rustic paneling and gabled ceiling.

     There was a scattering of chairs, a couch, and a few tables. A television was in one corner. Taking up most of one wall was a fireplace, which there would be no use for since the temperatures would soar into the hundreds this month. The kitchenette opened to the main room, and a faint scent of lemon cleaner permeated the air.

     Retrieving our belongings from the heap on the den floor, we ventured into one of the identical bedrooms and began to unpack. Dani set up her iPod dock on the dresser, and after a quick scroll through the device, popped it on and adjusted the volume.

     In the mirror frame over the dresser, Dani slid a photo of herself and Cole, wistfully eying the glossy printout. “I’m going to miss my honey.”

     More than once, I had wondered how I was going to get through two weeks without Jared. “I know what you mean.” Giving a drawer a yank, I suddenly jumped back, shrieking an explicative. “Please tell me it’s dead,” I implored to my best friend.

     Cautiously, Dani inched closer to inspect the contents of the drawer, finding one gargantuan—dead—spider. “It is,” she assured. Removing the entire drawer, she carried it to the adjoining bath and gave the arachnid a proper sea burial.

     “You don’t think he has any surviving relatives, do you?” I knew my voice shook as I asked. Before Dani could either tease me about possible live ones under the bed, or comfort me that they had all starved in the cabin, voices and the slam of a door announced the arrival of our cabin mates, and the comfortable peace of the house shattered.

     “Hey chickadees, what’s shaking?” Erin breezed into the room and began scrolling through the iPod. “Hey! I’ve got this one—now he is one fine specimen!” Clicking through to the song jacket, she perused the lead singer with a hungry stare.

     With barely a hello, Ashleigh disappeared into the other room, setting the pattern for the rest of the stay. Ashleigh seldom spoke a nice word, and when she did, it was to Erin. Erin bubbled with congeniality towards all.

     The mornings began early with breakfast, a hike, and exercise. There was a light lunch around noon, followed by an hour of free time. Then, a few hours of learning moves and routines, after which, the rest of the day, and night, was our own. After the afternoon practice, most of the girls swam or tanned. In the evenings, we gathered in groups at various cabins to watch movies or play music.

     I loved every second of every day despite the sore muscles and initial sunburn.

     Four or five nights a week, I talked with Jared on the phone. Cell phone reception was nonexistent, which was no bother to me because a wireless bill had never worked into the family finances. I had a prepaid for urgent calls and emergencies. However, for Dani, Ashleigh, and Erin, it meant the one landline phone in the cabin had to be shared four ways. This became a problem, particularly between Dani and Ashleigh.