Boot Camp

03: Old Version

"Oh my gosh, honey, what happened?"

My mother comes barreling towards me as I walk into the living room, an ice pack pressed to my bruised eye. I can barely see out of it and practically slam into the wall.

"I got hit by a tennis ball," I bluntly reply, falling into the brown leather armchair. My funny bone hits the hard armrest, and I suppress yelling out a profanity. Anything else you want to do to me, world?

"It looks terrible!" she says, crouching down next to me. Wow, what positive reassurance, Mother.

"How did you get hit by a tennis ball?!"

"The force of gravity remembered Isaac Newton and acted upon a ball to directly hit my beautiful face."

My mom frowns. "Really though, Whitney, what happened?"

"Mina and I decided to play tennis, and towards the end she hit a fast ball, and then I tried to hit it back, but that backfired clearly. What's new with me anyway."

She places her head in her hand. "Oh, Whitney." This is probably the thousandth time she has uttered this in my life. "Let's hope it's not too serious. I'll get you another ice pack."

Five minutes later, my dad walks in the room dressed in work attire, his tie half undone. I slowly look up. When he sees my eye, his blank expression changes.

"Oh dear God, Whitney, what did you do?" he asks. "Get in a bar fight?"

"Gee thanks," I reply sarcastically. "I got hit by a tennis ball."

He comes closer and peers at it. "You don't play sports. How did that even happen?"

I explain it to him, but on the inside, I'm frowning. I know he's wishing I was more like Poppy. She was always willing to go throw a ball with him because guess what?

She could actually catch it, unlike me.

Poppy walks in, and I begin to wonder if my mom has planned a family gathering, except this time, I'm the guest of honor.

"Oh my gosh, Whitney, what happened?"

I can't take any more questions and mumble a response before running upstairs. I shut my bedroom door behind me, throw myself onto my bed, and stare at the ceiling.

With one eye, of course.

***

June fifteenth is only a day away, and I know I have to make up my mind about this fitness camp soon.

I could sign up for this camp and utterly fail (not that I expected much greater) or I could actually benefit from it and become the second sporty daughter my parents probably always wished they had.

Ultimately, it's my choice, and that's what's killing me. It's in these moments I wish I wasn't a legal adult and my parents could decide everything for me.

I sigh as I walk out my front door, seeing Levi and my dad having a discussion on the porch. Everyone in my family besides me basically lives outside in the summer. I simply cannot fathom how you can pick grass and mosquitoes over air conditioning and leather sofas.

"Whitney, oh good you're here; you're coming with me!" my mom calls from the driveway, waving me over. She's standing next to her car with her purse and an impatient look on her face.

"Uh, why?" I ask, taking a nervous step back.

"We are going shopping." She makes her answer firm, and I nod happily, hoping we're going to the mall and even better, makeup shopping. I've been needing some new eyeliner. I open the door and slide into the passenger.