Plunge

Part One of Chapter One

Chapter One I Go To An Advanced Summer Camp

My day started like this. I was sitting in history class with my book standing up in front of my face so the teacher wouldn't notice me snoozing. Look, I'm usually not the type to fall asleep in a class, but our teacher, Mrs. Faye, was giving a boring lesson on the Civil War. I actually kind of liked history, but she had a monotone voice and often times made us do extra assignments. You know, those things in text books that your teacher usually doesn't make you do? Yeah, those. Anyways I don't even think she likes kids. With a surname like Faye, I imagined a young, eccentric, maybe hippieish, not to mention fun, kind of teacher. And she may have been that a century ago, but instead, I got a grouchy old lady with a stench of prune juice. She was basically a very old, evil grandma.

Anyways, I was sitting at my desk while Mrs. Faye rambled on about some Confederate ship called the C.S.S Birmingham blah blah blah, when suddenly, Pssht. I turned around and saw one of my classmates, Jesse Dodison, had made an inane picture of a stick figure drowning. Well, at least I believe it was drowning, either that or the figure was rolling in a pile of dung. With a boy like Jesse, you are never certain.

"Mrs. Smyth," Mrs.Faye suddenly snapped, "is there anything you would like to show the class?"

It grew silent in the classroom. I hated being in the center of attention. "N-no, Mrs. Faye," I smiled sweetly, "dear Jesse and Dakota just wanted to show me some of their artwork is all." "That had better be all," She mumbled to herself. I could feel Jesse and Dakota glaring at the back of my head. I slumped down in my seat.

When the bell rang to signal the end of fifth period, I dashed to my locker and hurried to my next class before my tormentors caught up with me. My next class was Physical Education, and this semester we were doing the aquatics section. Yay me.

The thing is, I'm deathly afraid of water. And for a good reason too. I've never swam in my life, nor have I ever been fully submerged in it. When I bathe, I shower. Twelve years ago, when I was one years old, my father had been in his fishing boat when it started to storm. First it started as a light drizzle. Then, a heavy rain. By the noon that day, it was a hurricane. At around 5 o' clock that evening, when the storm had pasted, my dad still wasn't home. And he didn't come home. I can barely remember his voice, talking to me as a baby, or how his eyes would crinkle in the corners when he smiled.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. That was in the past, besides, I had other matters that needed my attention. Like how I was going to survive this hour, or the entire concept of junior high. Let me tell you, being ADHD and dyslexic, didn't help my case much. Most everyone was already in their bathing suits. Westport Junior High School didn't allow us to wear bikinis, much to my classmates dismay. Instead, we all wore the same one-peice with our school colours, blue and white, arranged so that blue is on the bottom half and white is the upper half. I walked quickly to the girl's locker room and got changed.