Boot Camp

06: Old Version

My calves are burning as I recline on the bench outside the dorms after dinner with Martina.

"So," Martina begins, clasping her hands together. "What does your trainer look like?" Her eyes widen in anticipation.

"He's tall, has dark hair, and an unreadable personality. May I mention he's not the most compassionate person?"

"Oh." Martina seems taken aback by my response. "He still sounds hot though."

"Uh huh," I mumble. "Now how about you?" But before she answers, I jump up and let out a shrill scream, swatting my hands in front of my face like a maniac.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down!" she exclaims, jumping to her feet and standing in front of me. "What are you doing?"

I turn to her, several strands of hair now stuck in front of my face. "There was a fly. I was protecting myself."

"Actually, it was a ladybug," she mumbles. "You okay now?"

"Just perfect," I answer and sit a foot away from my original seat and cross my legs. "Now carry on."

"If you say so. Anyway, my guy's name is Austin, he's not super tall but has the most amazing bluish-green eyes. And guess what? He only taught me how to do a proper push-up. The rest of the time we talked."

I think my brain threw up a little. "That's it?"

"Not even kidding. How about you?"

"I have died and come back to life about six times in the past day."

A random moment of silence floats between us, and all we hear is the slight breeze and the faint chatter of other girls around us. In the left corner are three girls sitting under a large oak tree squealing over something on an iPad in front of them. Natalie and the petite girl from the race are across from them, joined by another girl I hadn't noticed before. And diagonal from us, a fair distance away, are Willow, Adriana and the model-like brunette.

"Wait a minute," I say, abruptly breaking the silence. Martina looks straight at me. "Do you happen to know that tall, skinny blonde over there?"

"Who?" Martina asks but shifts her head to the side. Her eyes scan the girls and seem to stop. "Wait, you mean Willow?"

So she knows her name? "Yes."

"Of course, I know her," she replies with a groan. "Adriana and her have been friends for years. They've attended the same competitive dance school since they were seven."

"Do you know anything else about her?"

She looks puzzled as to why I am asking. "Well, she's sort of nice, I guess, but she seems to have some problems of her own. She and Adriana spend hours talking and it always results in a tissue and runny mascara session. And she's insanely rich. She invites Adriana and me to fancy brunches on some weekends with a few other girls. I always try to get out of them, to be honest."

"Did you happen to meet a girl named Mina?" I ask, knowing how many times she was forced to attend those brunches set up by Willow's mother.

"Wait, yes!" Martina exclaims. "She's always been really nice to me. Do you know her?"

I nod. "We're best friends."

Her smile widens. "That's so cool. But then that means you must know Willow, right?"

Tragically.

Before Martina can answer, Adriana walks over to us, tossing her long hair over her shoulder.

"We have to go back to Room 100," she says, her expression sour. "I'm getting sick of that place."

"Oh get over yourself," Martina grumbles and grabs my hand, dragging me off the seat. Even in a fitness camp, I find a way to be lazy.