Surf Camp

Chapter 6

Pop-Up: Going from lying down on a board to standing, all in one jump.

Drip. Drip. Drip...

It was the lovely sound of H2O that woke me the following morning.

"Shit."

I looked up to see the cracks in the wall that I had observed when I first came into this room. It was raining and they had let in the harsh rain that was falling outside.

It never rains in Los Angeles. Ever. And the one time it does I'm here...

After my failure on the ice yesterday, me and some other newbies were taken on a tour of the area. There was a slim hallway at the back of the rink that led to a enormous cafeteria which fed both staff and the players enrolled in the camp. Entrance to any other pedestrian was prohibited, which I quite liked.

It feels like I'm part of a secret task force!

The similarities would end there.

The dual doors with card-readers would give way to our "dorms" which was actually twelve screwed up rooms that they thought would be appropriate to give to a bunch of "cracked out teenagers."

Notice the excessive quotation that is happening here. Yeah, not a good sign.

The yellowing wallpaper, cracked walls, and faint smell of chlorine mixed with other illegal substances was a sure sign that I was about to have a jolly good time at Schertzer Ice Camp.

After the tour we were rounded up to head off to have a early dinner. Although for the most part Paige was there to guide me through it, she was called off to answer a call from home.

My expectations were a all-time low and became even lower when I was served roasted chicken with broccoli and sun-dried tomatoes.

"Packed with protein!" The cook smiled cheerfully.

I narrowed my eyes, "Don't you have any god damn marinara or something?" I managed to snarl.

The cook's cheery smile immediately dropped, "I have...mustard?" I rolled my eyes and stormed to the nearest chair.

"Sorry but, why are you being a jerk to the cook? She only wanted to help. She's a good pers-"

I sat down with a thud, "I just never wanted to be here in the first place."

Drip. Drip. Drip

The dripping continued, oblivious to the ball of rage that is me.

I looked at the clock next to my lame excuse for a bed.

7:28AM

I have to be out in the cafeteria by 8 anyway...

I sluggishly got out of bed, my unathletic-ness becoming more apparent with every step.

When I finally got ready, brandishing my skates, I decided to look around, given that I had so much time to spare.

As I headed down the hallway past the social hall I couldn't help but notice how the Schertzer Camp Co. (or whatever those morons call it) was set up much like a school. Long hallways, tile floors, and bright white lights. The sound of thunder shook the building as I turned to open the cafeteria door.

I didn't know why I decided to come in quietly. It wasn't like I was doing anything wrong. My breathing slowed and I tiptoed my way in.

Now, a part of me wishes I didn't.

The sound of dishes clattering to the floor makes me jump and freeze in my tracks.

WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO I DO...