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.

            Unless it capsizes and I get trapped underneath.

            Oh my God, why did I think about that? Now I think I might actually throw up my breakfast. Maybe if I do puke, they’ll let me off the activity.

            “Group A, if you can make your way down to the storage hut where the kayaks are…”

            Everyone starts moving and I have no choice but to follow them. I’m supposed to be helping the boys grab a kayak, but to be honest, I think I’m more in need of supervision than they are. I step forward and suddenly Blake is in my line of vision, holding two red boats upright.

            “Here you go,” he tells me, holding it out so I can take it.

            For approximately two seconds, I forget about my paralyzing fear. My heart flutters and I am able to do nothing but grin back like an idiot when he flashes a cute smile at me. Some of his blonde hair flops over his forehead and he pushes it back, practically making me go weak at the knees.

            Get a grip, Bailey. He just handed you a kayak, not a bunch of roses.

            “Hey, are you okay?” he says. His expression is a picture of concern. “You look kinda… pale.” I know he is trying to find a word that won’t offend me, but I know that translated that means I look like an absolute wreck.

            I nod, trying to force a small smile onto my face. I succeed, but I know it’s completely weak and utterly unconvincing. “Yeah, just, uh... girl problems.”

            Oh my freaking God. Why did I just say that? I can’t believe I just told the hottest guy on camp that I’m on my period... and it’s not even true! I want to die. I just want the ground to open up and swallow me. Failing that, I want the ability to turn back time and stop myself from saying that.

            “Oh, um...” Blake looks slightly weirded out. Understatement of the century. He looks like he wants to move as far away from me as possible, like I have some sort of contagious disease.

            Way to make a conversation awkward. Yup, I’ve just told a hot guy I’m on my period. Accidentally. When I’m not even on it.

            “Shall we...?” he gestures to the lake, obviously now so creeped out he can’t even form coherent sentences. One part of my mind is finding this incredibly cute, but the other is distracted by the extreme mortification I have just brought upon myself.

            “Yeah,” I respond quickly, eager to put this embarrassing incident behind us (like that will happen. I’ll still be remembering this for months afterward, and cringing at the thought).

            At least through my mortification, I kind of forgot about my irrational fear of water for at least thirty seconds. This is good, but when I pick up the kayak and turn towards the lake it comes flooding back (yes, that water related pun was intentional).

            The rest of the group are setting their kayaks down at the shore, climbing into them and then having the instructors push them off the land. With shaking hands, I mimic their actions, but when I climb into the tiny hole of the boat I actually feel like I’m going to physically throw up.

            I am just about to scream and jump out of the kayak onto stable ground, but suddenly a force behind pushes me forwards and before I can even comprehend what’s happening, my kayak is floating on the lake. I grip the handles of the paddle so hard I’m afraid it might snap.

            For a minute, I am frozen. I don’t know what to do. I’ve never kayaked before. Staring down at the paddle in my hands, I start internally fretting (like I wasn’t doing that before). Here I am, just floating casually on the surface, a mere meter away from the shore. How do I move this thing? Oh my God, I feel so stupid.

            Why does this situation feel familiar? Oh yeah, because I’m Bailey Cunningham, and I always seem to make a fool out of myself.

            “You alright, Bailey?” Blake calls. He is a good few meters ahead of me, turning round so he can catch a glimpse of my worried face.

            “Um, yeah...”

            “You ever kayaked before?”

            “No...”

            Blake smiles slightly. I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but his face hints at amusement. “That’s okay. Just use each side of the paddle alternatively to move forward.”

            Taking a deep breath to calm my out of control nerves, I follow his instructions. At first the boat doesn’t move and I wonder if I’m doing it right. However, with a couple of seconds of persistence, it starts to slowly glide across the water and I am moving forwards towards Blake.

            And suddenly, it doesn’t seem so scary.

            “I’m doing it!” I call, the grin widening on my face. I try to ignore the fact that all the eight year old kids are doing it perfectly already, and are probably laughing at my lack of experience and previous failed attempts.

            Blake laughs. “Well done,” he says, turning his kayak round so his is besides mine. We are in the closest proximity possible whilst in separate boats (which is actually about a meter apart) and I can’t help but feel my heart skip a beat. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.

            I see Savannah on the opposite side of the lake, paddling effortlessly like she’s a world champion kayaker. That’s so like her. Whatever she does, even if she’s never tried anything like it before, she always seems to be perfect at. I’m pretty sure she could just waltz into an operating theatre and perform impeccable brain surgery.

            I still wouldn’t volunteer to be the patient, however.

            When our eyes meet, she sends me an encouraging smile. I try to mirror her response, but I am too busy having a nervous breakdown from being close to Blake to manage this. Way to play it cool, Bailey.

            He is still smiling at me (which, of course, doesn’t help the nervy b situation), but suddenly his eyes flicker elsewhere and refocus on an object behind me. Naturally, lacking the ability to see through the back of my head (although, even if I did have eyes in said position, I think I would still struggle to observe anything through the thick mess of hair I possess), all I can do is squint a little and wonder what the hell he’s looking at.

            And why it appears as if whatever he’s looking at is really bad.

            I turn round quickly, just before Blake’s warning voice rings through the air. Despite my speedy pivoting skills, I’m too late.

            Not late enough to miss Jake’s evil look as he rams his kayak into mine.

            It all happens so quickly, it appears as if everything is moving past my eyes as an incomprehensible blur. However, the feeling of my body plunging into the cold water and covering my head is as clear as crystal.