Musically Gifted? Well, I Used to Play the Recorder...

Seven: Just Doing What I Do Best... Faking It

Seven: Just Doing What I Do Best... Faking It

“You okay, Bailey?”

            No, I am not freaking okay. I am almost having a heart attack at the side of the lake as I look at the deep blue water in front of me. That water… which, if I fell in, would fill up my lungs instantly and kill me.

            Nice thought.

            “Fine.” I smile weakly in Tom’s direction. He is standing at the side looking at me with a concerned expression on his face. I want to tell him that no, I am not okay, and am considering running back to my cabin to hide under my blanket. However, I don’t want him and the others to think of me as a complete weirdo (although, I’ve probably already achieved that…), so instead I’ve taken to pretense.

            And by that, I mean pretending that the sight of the water doesn’t make me want to throw up from fear.

            I’m not even sure where this fear developed from. Okay, no wait… that’s a total lie. I know exactly where it originated; I just don’t want to think about it. It’s just a part of my mind that I want to push as far back as possible, and then lock it away under a combination of a thousand numbers.

            … I’m messed up.

            But you would be too if your only memory of swimming was falling into Savannah’s pool at age six, sinking to the bottom and the inability to surface and fill your lungs with oxygen instead of chlorine bleached liquid.

            I’m not going there again.

            “Are you sure you’re okay?”

            Now Savannah is looking at me strangely. Oh, great. I’m obviously a worse actor than I thought. I know it’s strange that even my best friend isn’t aware of my deepest phobia, but I’ve just never gotten round to telling her. At the time, I pretended I was fine… pretty much like how now I pretend that the burning feeling of my oxygen deprived lungs doesn’t still scare the crap out of me today.

            Plus, it’s not exactly the kind of thing you can slip into casual conversation.

            “Oh yeah, by the way… you remember when I fell into your pool ten years ago? Yeah, that… I actually have a phobia of water now. It’s kind of your fault, actually.”

            Uh, no. It doesn’t work like that.

            “I’m fine,” I mumble.

            The kids are still milling around us and the last thing I want is for Jake to find out that I’m freaking terrified of water. That will almost guarantee me a water based prank in the next couple of days, which will possibly give me a heart attack and/or make me live with paranoia for the next six weeks.

            We’ve been split into two groups, and by some stroke of miracle, Blake, Tom, Savannah and I have been put into the same one. That means a whole morning away from the tortures of Cindy and her tactless flirting – I can barely contain my joy.

            It kind of sucks that said joy is overshadowed by my extreme fear of water, though.

            One of the camp leaders announces that Group A (which is us) will be starting with kayaking. I resist the urge to pass out on the spot as these words are spoken. I need to get a grip. Kayaking is way different from swimming, right? I won’t actually be in the water. I’ll be in a little plastic thing on top of the water. That’s safe, isn’t it? Yeah… perfectly safe.