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

Twenty: Nothing's Impossible... Except This One Thing

Twenty: Nothing's Impossible... Except This One Thing

“Cindy?”

            Oh God. Here I go. Why did I even think this was a good idea? It’s crystal clear to me now that this is probably one of the worst ideas I’ve ever had (and yes, I actually mean it this time). Cindy is standing over the other side of the camp, next to her tent (where I will hopefully be spending the night), doing some sort of strange yoga routine with the flock of girls who seem to be attached to her hip.

            Is this what I should be doing? Should I be composing and conducting aerobic sessions on a daily basis? Is it considered bad counselor practice if every morning begins with an extra half hour in bed rather than a refreshing morning jog around camp grounds?

            I hope not, because exercise really isn’t my thing.

            Plus... tight fitting track pants make my butt look way bigger than necessary.

            As I approach her, the internal debate begins. I can’t believe I’m doing this. It’s obvious that as soon as I so much as mention the absurd ultimatum, Cindy will shoot me down instantly. Either that, or she will query a rational explanation for the strange request, and then, when I fail to give her one, refuse to comply.

            I’m on the verge of pivoting on my heel and heading straight back in the direction I came from (whilst hoping she didn’t notice), when Cindy pauses her complex yoga session and sends me a questioning look.

            “Yeah?”

            She pushes a strand of blonde hair that has fallen from her ponytail away from her glowing face. Her cheeks are flushed slightly pink from the activity and I can’t help noticing the gray track pants she is wearing are way too snug around the backside. It takes intense mental concentration not to mutter the word ‘slut’ disguised under a cough. Okay, maybe not that much concentration, but it’s still an effort.

            I should probably stop being so bitchy.

            “Um, can I talk to you for a sec?”

            I hope I don’t sound too pathetic and desperate. But then again, this is me we’re talking about.

            “Sure!” Cindy responds, way too enthusiastically. For all she knows, I could be announcing the unfortunate event of a fire in Melody Cabin, which has consequently burnt all her belongings. I doubt she’d be so cheery then.

            She turns to the six girls under her supervision. “I’m just going to talk to someone for a second,” she declares. Then, she points to the tallest one, who has long waves of chocolate brown hair cascading down her back, accompanied with Bambi brown eyes. “Siobhan, you can take over whilst I’m gone. Back in a sec!”

            Siobhan nods profusely as Cindy turns back to me. We move a couple of paces away until we are out of earshot of the majority of camp.

            “So...” Cindy begins. “What’s up?”

            “Uh... I need to ask you a, um... favor.”

            Well, this is going fantastically. I haven’t even managed one simple sentence and I’m already stuttering. Get a grip, Bailey, you’re talking to Cindy, not Blake. I’m pretty sure that I can manage to speak without getting distracted by her attractiveness.

            Unless I’ve unknowingly turned lesbian.

            Great.

            “What kind of favor?”