Boot Camp

05: Old Version

"So what's your name, again?" one of the twins asks me. I can't even tell if it's Adriana or her sister: they look so alike it's alarming.

"Whitney," I answer her and push my plate away. "Now please tell me if you're Adriana or the girl that looks just like her?"

The girl chuckles a bit, running a hand through her silky hair. "I'm Martina. People used to get us twins mixed up a lot, so that's why I had to distinguish myself in high school." I notice she has a couple piercings in each ear and she's paler than Adriana, with even darker black hair.

"Wait, I can see that now," I says. "She seems to ask a lot of questions—I mean, Bob didn't seem too pleased, but I get it honestly."

"Oh god, yes. That girl is the living definition of annoying. I was considering putting a picture of her next to that word when the Webster's visual dictionary comes out."

"Wait, there's going to be a visual dictionary?" Natalie asks.

"No, oh my gosh," Martina answers.

From knowing Natalie for only a few hours I have concluded she is a very innocent and gullible person. And basically, the person who'd probably raise her hand in class and ask what a hickey is because she genuinely has no clue.

"But as I was saying, Adriana is not afraid to say anything she wants, even if it just popped in her head. It's annoying."

"But don't you still like her?" Natalie asks. "I mean you guys are twins."

"Yeah, yeah of course, but we're just not much alike aside from looks." As she says this, my eyes turn left, and I can see Adriana engaged in conversation with a tall, model-like brunette and no other person but Willow. "Anyway, why did you guys decide to come to this camp? My mom practically forced me and Adriana to because she thinks we're so weak that we'd have no self-defense skills if someone attacked us. Ridiculous, right?"

"Oh yeah," Natalie and I both mumble. "I signed up because I have zero athletic skills. And Natalie here wants to make varsity tennis."

"Ah, I see," Martina says. She turns around and sees all the girls start to get up. "Oh, I think we have to go back to that big empty room again."

Cindy and Bob greet us again, each holding an iPad and a stack of papers and discussing something. They look up when we file in and Bob puts on his intimidating persona again.

"Hey, girls," Cindy greets us with a big smile. "We've evaluated your current physical standings and have assigned you to a specific trainer. But you'll have to work a bit to find them."

This definitely sounds like some scam just to get us to exercise more.

Cindy calls out different girls' names and hands them a specified sheet of paper. "These are the directions to find where your trainer is. If you follow them, you should have absolutely no problem. So go venture off and later this evening you'll find out more about our team system. Good luck and make sure to work hard!"

Cindy is so excited as she says this that I want to find the nearest ditch to jump into.

I look down at my paper, reading the directions. Before we all leave, we wish each other good luck.

I stand outside the central building, reading I should keep jogging down the same road we ran on earlier, but this time to continue straight until I see a large wooden sign. Other girls are already speeding off in other directions, just as eager to see exactly who is going to be in charge of their physical tortu—I mean exercise—for the next five weeks.

I begin jogging down the long road, surrounded by trees, trees and surprisingly more trees. The natural entertainment in Connecticut is so spot on.

I have to admit I'm surprised at the caliber of this camp. I expected a dingy little facility in an old gym with a crazy lady yelling at us to squat. Personal trainers, nicely designed rooms and vast spaces were not what I imagined when I dreaded to sign up, but then again, the price tag should have dropped those hints to me from far before.