Synchronized Swimming

Chapter 6: Mr. Blackbourne the Pirate

Sang

The shrill whine of my alarm clock wakes me up. Bleary eyed, I glance at it and sigh. Five in the morning is way too early to be up, especially when I cried for hours last night before actually falling asleep. I glance down at my arms and see that they have faded to a soft pink, rather than the harsh red they were last night. It looks like I have a mild sunburn all over my body. Thankfully, the water wasn't hot enough to cause blisters.

As much as I would like to lie in bed for another few hours, I have to eat breakfast so I have enough energy to swim. I pull on a robe before padding downstairs into the kitchen. Instead of the normal whir of the coffee maker and hum of the microwave, I am greeted by silence when I enter the dark room. Flicking on a light reveals that the kitchen is deserted—Avidite is nowhere to be seen. A folded piece of paper lies on the normally spotless table, and I pick it up before Avidite sees it and blames me for the mess.

I move to throw it away, but I figure I should at least look at what it says first. Unfolding the paper, I read with growing surprise:

"Sang, late last night a man called and invited you to a special synchro camp in Charleston. His name was Mr. Blackbeard or Mr. Blackthorn, something like that, and he said that your swim at the meet gained the attention of the camp directors. It sounds like a very prestigious camp, so I told him you would go. He is coming at 8:00 to pick you up. Pack all of your stuff and take it with you.

I'm not sure when you will come back. I've decided to use this time to visit your father on his business trip, so I will leave after I've finished writing this note. I might sell the house, it just depends on your father. Mr. Blackbeard has my contact information, so notify me when the camp is finished.

I expect you to use this opportunity to improve. Don't slack off, and no talking to boys. I left $20 in the foyer for food. If you need more money, get it yourself."

The note is unsigned, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out that Avidite wrote it. Sitting down in a chair, I close my eyes and sigh. I can't believe that she signed me up for a mystery camp without asking first! Although I really shouldn't be surprised. Avidite is a fame leech and will use any way to increase my success she can, particularly if she doesn't have to do any work herself.

The microwave clock blinks 5:21. Two and a half hours wouldn't be nearly enough time for most people to pack all of their belongings, but for me it will be plenty. Filled with sudden energy, I sprint back up the stairs and gather all of my clothes and books into one ragged suitcase. Towels, swimsuits, and competition medals go into my swim bag, and my radio is placed into a box with hand towels for padding. I debate on whether I should take the computer or not, but I eventually decide that it's almost summer time anyway, and I doubt that this camp will last for more than a few weeks or so. I leave the outdated computer sitting where it is.

Taking my stuff downstairs only takes two trips. I leave all three items by the front door and go to the living room. Feeling slightly overwhelmed, I sit with my knees tucked underneath me on the couch. This day is not turning out like I had expected at all. I've found that writing down my worries helps make them seem less critical, so I walk back over to my suitcase and pull out my diary. In it, I write:

Problems

1. I have to go to a mystery camp in Charleston. Although it's sudden, I think that this will be a good way to meet new people and get away from Avidite.

2. Avidite left without saying goodbye, and I'm not sure when I'll see her or my father again.

3. I've never been away from home and I'm not sure if I'll be able to relax.

4. Avidite might sell the house—why would she do that? Are we moving, or does she just want a new one? It almost seems like she doesn't expect me to come home after this camp, but that's ridiculous. It's only a camp, not a life sentence.

Writing down my problems helps me realize that this is a wonderful opportunity, one that I would be a fool to waste. I look at a clock and see that Mr. Blackbeard should be here in about thirty minutes. I chuckle at his unfortunate name. Does he dress like a pirate or anything like that? Probably not, but it would be funny if he did.

I startle when the phone starts ringing. Automatically, I look around for Avidite, waiting for her to answer like she always does. After two rings, I realize with a pang that since she's gone, it falls to me to answer the phone. Hesitantly, I pick it up. "Hello?"

The strong voice on the other end almost causes me to drop the receiver. "Hello, this is Mr. Blackbourne. Is this Miss Sorenson?"

"Yes."

"I told your mother that I would call when we were five minutes out. I know that we will be a bit early. Are you packed and ready?"

"Yes, I've been packed for a while."

"Good. We'll see you soon" Mr. Blackbeard- no, Blackbourne, hangs up abruptly. I'm a bit disappointed to find out that he isn't actually named after a pirate. Mr. Blackbourne is a more suitable name for the sophisticated sounding voice over the phone, though.

I hurriedly place my diary back into the suitcase. A sudden thought made me pause—Mr. Blackbourne said "We'll see you soon". Who else is coming? I hope it's some campers, preferably girl ones. Knowing how dominated synchro is by girls makes that the more likely scenario anyway. Boys always picked on me when I went to public school, and I haven't interacted with enough of them since then to change my negative opinion. My stomach starts to twist with nerves at the thought of meeting new people, girls or boys.

Adrenaline courses through my body when I hear the doorbell ring. I march over to the door, roll back my shoulders, and yank it open in one quick movement. I gasp when I see the mob of boys squished together in front of the door. A quick head count reveals that there are nine of them.

"Hello," I say. The boys continue staring at me. All of a sudden, pandemonium breaks out when they all start yelling. One boy dressed all in black manages to yell the loudest however, and I hear the one question I had hoped I wouldn't have to answer:

"Baby, why are you all red?"