Boot Camp

14: Old Version

Losing Miranda wasn't very detrimental.

After all, nearly half of the girls didn't know who she was until we were informed that she wouldn't be coming back. Served them right for making someone like her spend another summer here. But her absence has been affecting me, even days after. She was the one who knew about the notes and the only person I could somewhat confide in about them.

This week I've only found one, wedged between two books on my side table, another shady but harmless threat.

I don't know that I did something that would cause someone to have such a level of animosity towards me—or maybe I just can't remember.

I lean back on my hand and stare off at ceiling, wanting to be anywhere but here at the moment. Cheryl and a few of other female trainers who all practically look the same have gathered the fifteen of us in the yoga studio for another "relax and talk" session. Yes, I will surely have a blast relaxing with Willow sitting two feet away from me.

"Okay girls, before we can talk, let's sit down and take a few deep breaths and then get into the downward dog position."

I close my eyes and think of my comfortable bed at home and my mother's cooking. My stomach grumbles loudly and three girls turn around to stare at me.

"Sorry," I whisper, closing my eyes again and trying to forget about home food.

"Just breathe out and forget all of your worries and troubles," the squeaky blonde one says.

We go through six different yoga poses, my body feeling like a folded-up pretzel on the last one. I fall onto the mat in a heap when we finish, and my cheeks flush in embarrassment. I may have mastered running, but yoga is another story.

"Gather into a circle so we can begin today's session," Cheryl says, summoning us with a circular hand motion. I get up reluctantly and head over to the middle of the room.

"This fitness journey isn't only about tackling the physical challenges, there is also a large mental aspect. It's surprising what we can keep ourselves from accomplishing because of how we think." Is she Axel Chandler Lite?

As Cheryl continues to speak, the room is silent. Some girls point their heads downwards while others watch her with interest. I feel nauseous, as I have no desire to discuss my emotions with a group of strangers.

Cheryl wraps her arms around her knees and leans back slightly, her eyes glazing over us. "When I was in high school, I was bullied. It happened every day, specifically over my weight. After years of hiding under my insecurities I decided to go into fitness for myself: to become stronger. Now at twenty-seven, I can say I am. It was the hardest transition I'd ever made, but I have never regretted my choice since."

"Have any of you ever experienced bullying before?" the squeaky blonde asks us, as if this will make us shoot our hands up in the air and start pouring our hearts out. I eye the girls around, seeing wary hands creep up. I keep mine down.

"Don't be shy; it's alright to say if you have," Cheryl says, and I cringe as I finally—barely—raise my hand into the air. "Do any of you want to share your story?"

No, I do not.

One of the larger girls nods and says, "I got called fat by my classmates, friends and my family. I was always aware of how I looked. But it felt horrible to be constantly reminded of it. I just want... I want to come out of here as a new person."

Cheryl smiles broadly, a dimple showing on her right cheek. "You can do it. Remember that you're competing with yourself and no one else."

The girl smiles and nods. I slink back, trying to make myself unnoticeable. I glance at Willow, who is busy staring at her purple Puma sneakers.