And yeah, even though I’d read about it in the brochure, the idea of me swimming was pretty scary.
“I won’t leave your side,” Trinity continued. “Basically”—and now she laughed—“you can’t get rid of me!” She paused and gave me her full attention. Then she said, “So, did I hit all your questions? Did I miss anything?”
I tapped on Elvira. “What about the horses?” My hand went extra shaky, so it took a while to tap it out.
“You want the honest truth?” she asked. I braced myself.
But all she said was: “You’re gonna love it. The horses are specifically trained, and they are ridiculously gentle. I guarantee this will be your favorite activity.”
From my point of view, the words ridiculous and gentle somehow don’t go together. But before I could tap anything, she was saying, “And once you feel the magic and power of a horse, you’ll never be the same.”
Okay, Trinity wasn’t half-bad. But she was gonna lose that horse bet, for sure.
She then rattled off info about meals (they were delicious), activities (lots), and safety protocols (double lots), and finally said, “However, missy, now is not the time to do nothing. Let’s go get unpacked.”
I gave her a nod of agreement.
“This way, Fiery Falcon,” she said with a flourish, sending the dozen or so bronze and gold-colored bracelets on her arms clinking like wind chimes. Okay, another plus for Trinity—she knew her bracelets!
CHAPTER 12
Trinity likes earrings, too. As we unpacked my stuff, she carefully unwrapped a small box wrapped in tissue paper. Mom had tucked in three pairs of tiny earrings—teeny butterflies, red rhinestones, and golden dots. After oohing over each, Trinity showed me her own collection—hoops and loops and one set that perfectly matched her bracelets.
“Wanna wear a pair today?” she asked me, holding them out.
“Sure!” I tapped. I chose the butterflies and she popped them in.
We’d barely finished putting my stuff away in an overhead compartment when the three other girls assigned to our cabin arrived all at once, along with three more counselors.
The first girl, wearing a pair of really cute pink-framed glasses and a T-shirt the color of strawberry ice cream, bounced in, grinning hugely. It was impossible not to smile back.
Next came a girl in a neon-green wheelchair. She had a stony look on her face, and her arms were crossed. I couldn’t tell whether she looked scared or angry. She had on unscuffed brand-new shoes.
The third girl walked in on her own power like the first girl had—no wheelchair or walker or obvious special equipment—but she didn’t say a word and made no eye contact with anyone, just plopped down in a chair and began picking at her fingernails.
The room was huge, but with two wheelchairs and four stuffed duffel bags, plus the counselors’ luggage and four bunk beds, the cabin felt full, crowded—almost like a house with a family.
An iPad, cranked up high, was playing Bob Marley’s “One Love.”
Trinity greeted everyone with a hello and then declared, “Cabin Chat! Cabin Chat! Let’s make a circle, Falcons.”
The other girls froze. The music went silent. What’s a cabin chat?
I rolled myself over to the center of the room, trying not to look too obviously at the two girls who looked as uneasy as I felt, the girl with pink glasses beaming at us all. Okay, it was totally awkward. But I was curious, too.
Trinity flung her arms out wide. “Welcome, Fiery Falcons! I am so excited to be here with you today, our first day at Camp Green Glades!” she exclaimed. “This is going to be home for the next week, and we want you to feel one hundred percent comfortable here. So again, welcome, welcome, welcome, to our four Fiery Falcons!”
The other three counselors, wearing T-shirts identical to Trinity’s, made whoot, whoot, whoot noises, like we were at a football game or something, then broke into: “Falcons! Falcons!” The other three girls stayed silent. One was peering at me, one had slid down onto the floor and wouldn’t look up, and the girl dressed in all pink was bobbing up and down on her toes. Their eyes darted around the room, observing everything. It was clear none of us was sure what we should do yet.
I guess they were like me—a little scared, a little curious, a little I don’t know these people! At the same time, I knew that these girls, like me, had been to countless doctors’ appointments, and specialist consultations, and probably physical therapy and occupational therapy sessions. They were no doubt real familiar with schools where we either sat in the back of a class full of kids without disabilities, or in a room designed for us, with ramps and pull-up bars and security straps to make sure we didn’t fall. Some of us would have to be fed. Most of us would need a little extra help in the bathroom.
Yep, even though I didn’t know these girls, I kinda knew them. Which meant they kinda knew me as well. Huh.
Right on cue, Trinity said, “Time for introductions. We’ll start with the counselors. I’m Trinity. I was born on the island of Jamaica, and I grew up in a neighborhood in New York called Jamaica. How cool is that? I’m really glad to be here with you, and I’m here to help you with anything you need.” Then she waved her arm toward me, bracelets jangling. “And now I’d like to introduce my camp buddy for the week. Would you like to say something, Melody?”
What? I thought the counselors were going first! I hadn’t planned on that. Why did I have to go first? I tried to keep my face from frowning—not sure if it was working. Then I told myself to get over it.
So I tapped out, “My name is Melody. This is my first time at any camp. I’m a little bit scared, and a big bit excited.” It took a little while to tap all that, but they were all surprisingly patient. I looked up as Elvira repeated my words in her mildly mechanical voice.