Kissed by an angel (camren)

Chapter 6

Song Suggestion:
Kehlani:Do u dirty
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Camila stood barefoot on the clammy floor, curling up her toes. The humidity and the pool's strong smell of chlorine invaded the locker room. Metal doors slammed and the cinder-block room echoed like a cave. Everything about the pool area gave her the creeps.

The other girls in the drama club were checking out one another's suits, rehearsing their lines, and giggling self consciously.

Dinah laid a hand on Camila's shoulder. "You alright?"
"I can handle this."
"You're sure?" Dinah didn't sound too convinced.
"I know my lines," said Camila, "and all we have to do is jump up and down on the diving board." On the high diving board, at the deep end, without falling in, Camila thought to herself.

Dinah persisted. "Listen mila, I know you're McCardell's star, but don't you think you should mention to him that you don't know how to swim and are terrified of water?"
"I told you I can do this," Camila said, then pushed through the swinging locker room door, her legs feeling like soft rubber beneath her.

She lined up with eleven girls and three guys along the pools edge. Ally stood on one side of Camila, Dinah on the other. Camila gazed down into the luminescent blue-green pool. It's just water, she told herself, nothing more than stuff to drink. And it's not even deep at this end.

Ally touched her on the arm. "Well I guess Dinah is pleased. You invited Gregory."
"Gregory? Ofcourse I didn't!" Camila turned swiftly to Dinah.
Dinah shrugged. "I wanted to give him a preview of coming attractions. There'll be lots of places to sunbathe on that ridge of yours."
"You do look great in your suit," Ally told her.

Camila fumed. Dinah knew how hard this was for her, without adding Gregory to the scenario. She could have restrained herself just this once.

Gregory wasn't alone in the bleachers. His friends Eric and Normani were watching, as well as some other juniors and seniors who had slipped away from their projects during the activity period. All of them watched with intense interest as the girls in the group did their stretching exercises.

Then the class walked and trotted around the perimeter of the pool, performing their vocal drills.

"I want to hear everyone consonant, every p, d, and t," Mr. McCardell called out to them, his own voice amazingly distinct in the huge echo chamber of the pool. "Hailey, Cara, Dinah, this isn't a beauty pageant," he hollered. "Just walk."

That elicited some soft booing from the stands.

"And for heavens sake, Sam, stop bouncing!"
The audience snickered.
When the students had finished several circuits, they gathered at the deep end of the pool, beneath the high dive.

"Eyes here," their teacher commanded. "You're not with me." Leaning close to them, he said, "This is a lesson in enunciation and concentration. I'll find it unforgivable if any one of you lets those groundlings distract you."

At that, nearly everyone in the class glanced toward the stands. The pool door opened, and more spectators entered, most of them guys.

"Are we ready? Are we preparing ourselves?"
For the exercise, each student had to memorize at least 25 lines of poetry or prose, something about love or death. "The two great themes of life and drama," Mr. McCardell had said.