So. Thanks to the anon who left the very out of context, open ended ask that said nothing more than 'camp bechloe?'. You got me thinking. So I had to get it out.
There were a lot of things Beca could say about John Mitchell. Most of them probably weren't very nice- bordering on completely derogatory, really- but in all honesty, she didn't even feel that bad about it. Alas, at least she could say he tries. Sort of. If 'try' means skimming the surface and drawing a conclusion that was both convenient and more appealing for him than what the actuality of the situation may be. She can also say he's an idiot. That one is a bit more straightforward.
So when he brings up 'camp' because 'Beca likes music'- not fully grasping the idea that Beca likes to make mixes on her laptop, alone, in her room, in the dark, surviving off of Poptarts and Redbull and being surly- not whatever she was sure 'music camp' was selling in it's brochure- Beca, quite predictably, freaks out. Or should she say, dejects it. Immediately. She fires off about eighteen different insults about the idea of music camp that involve jabs at Glee and her own mental health- and the mental health of her father who must be getting alzheimer's, or something, as she said, if he really expected her to go there. John Mitchell hadn't really cared. He'd pursed his lips, chastised his only daughter for being 'negative', and then continued reading his newspaper. Out of spite, Beca holed herself away in her room and sulked.
Because she didn't want to go- not that it was finalized at that point, but she had a feeling it would be inevitable. Because he and Shiela were going to Europe for the summer and Beca, obviously, wasn't invited. They called it their 'Honeymoon Trip' despite the fact that they'd gotten married two years ago and already had a honeymoon. So that made Beca feel like chopped liver. And she wasn't trusted with looking after herself for two months, let alone the house, and John Mitchell had never really been the kind of parent who was cool with letting their kid out for longer than 24 hours at a time. He liked supervision. He liked order. He liked knowing his kid couldn't be up to anything too awful- which she supposed isn't that irrational for a parent, but a little bit of trust would be nice. It wasn't like she was out at ragers every weekend or breaking any kind of laws whenever she had the chance. For some reason, though, he always assumed that's what was happening whenever she was out- and it had gotten old, like really old, about four years ago- considering she was about to be in her senior year of high school. Which brought a whole other level of awful to the ordeal. She was seventeen, music camp was surely for people between the ages of 10-14, no matter what the flier is saying with its proclamation that it accepts 'young adults' all the way up to 18. It was just an unspoken fact. If you went to music camp past the age of 14, you were a freak, right?
But it was either that or shipping her off to Alaska to hangout with her mom and the whales or whatever it was she did, and that seemed a little extreme, even for Beca.
So. That's how she ended up finally relenting after forty-eight hours of an ongoing cold shoulder towards her parental figures, and inspecting the brochure in her hands. Out of view from either of them, of course, because she didn't want to grant them the satisfaction. But it had been sitting on the kitchen island in plain sight for days now, taunting her. And if she was doomed and fated to be attending the place, she ought to at least see what it was they were trying to sell here. Prepare herself. But she could only take so much of 'team-building exercises' and 'outdoor experience' promises before she felt nauseous again. Team-building, and the outdoors, weren't exactly high on Beca's priority list. She may as well had been looking at a pamphlet for her trip to the gallows.
Three weeks later, though- as Beca suspected- she was hauling luggage into the back of her father's car and brooding in the backseat. The drive was long, and just about to the middle of butt-fuck-nowhere, by the looks of it, because the path they were on was hardly even a dirt road anymore. John nor Shiela couldn't be bothered, though- they were just going off, more to each other than to her, about how wonderful the place will be and how it was expensive but worth it to get Beca a position in. If you ask her, Shiela seems just a little bit too excited by the way she keeps looking at Beca through the rearview mirror with a creepy, greasy little weird mouse smirk; glad to be rid of her, no doubt. And John was just happy that Shiela was happy- because that's hard to do, and the woman is in constant need of it- God knows what the man sees in her- because he keeps looking at her more than he is at Beca. So that was cool. And painfully awkward. And Beca wanted to slam her head against a brick wall until she hospitalized herself, but it was cool. It was happening. She only wanted to find a hole to crawl in and die.
The path widened up a bit, becoming a semi-noticeable road once again, as it wound itself out of the trees and the view opened up. From the car window, she could make out a few cabins in the distance around the lake, and what looked like a larger lodge, with smoke billowing out of a stone chimney. It looked like a damn postcard. So quaint that it made Beca's stomach somehow drop even more; the vision of chipper, dancing theatre nerds in essence of that one Addams Family movie. Which, yes, she'd seen when it was on TV. And, yes, she actually kind of enjoyed it. Maybe she could burn the place to the ground like Wednesday did.
By the looks of the pair of middle-aged, khaki-clad, what Beca could only assume were the camps 'fearless' leaders, she just might have to. The woman's smile was just too broad and forced and the guy, although he was also smiling, kind of looked like a drill sergeant. They were chatting with each other in the clearing- or, maybe it was supposed to be something like a parking lot- but stopped as the car rolled into view, and immediately began waving at the vehicle. Suppressing her groan was an actual physical pain, somewhere in her chest, and she sort of slunk deeper into the seat as the car neared the two. As if not being seen could somehow get her out of attending.
It couldn't. She knew that. They already paid the fee.
Rolling the car to a lazy stop, John gave her some kind of look from over his shoulder that she couldn't quite discern, before unbuckling and slipping from the vehicle in one fluid movement. And, knowing she wouldn't do it herself, taking the liberty to open up the back driver's side door where she sat, prompting her out.
"John Mitchell," He announced, in that authoritarian 'Professor' voice. Reaching one hand out to grasp the man's in a firm shake, and then the woman. "How do you do?"
Suppressing an eye roll wasn't going to happen. Not when John was being all... polished. But Shiela was giving her a pointed look in the rearview mirror that told her she ought to move her ass out of that car, so she did. But she took her time doing so.
"Brian Posen," The man replied, his voice so deep it startled Beca slightly as she reached to undo her seatbelt.
"And I'm Shelley," The woman, however, had a much lighter voice- but it was perhaps tainted with the sheer chipper disposition of it.
"You two run this place?" John asks like he already knows the answer- because he does. Even Beca knows. It had been in the brochure. The "Music Theatre Coach" and the "Music Teacher/ Composer" husband and wife duo who liked to make a bit of extra cheddar by running some ridiculously expensive music camp in the summers. What's not to love?
"Run it, own it," The pride is evident in the man's voice, "We accommodate everything."
Shouldering the strap of her laptop bag- because yeah, she'd brought it, even though she knew using it was probably unlikely. But the thing was her life and blood. Of course she'd bring it. - Beca grips her duffel in one hand and her backpack in the other; both are shoved full basically to capacity, because she'd never gone to camp before, and she wasn't sure what her necessities would be, but she had two whole months to spend finding out. John lets out a laugh, like he's tremendously pleased with the way this is all turning out. "Excellent!" He beams, just as Beca slides from the backseat with an ungraceful 'oomf'. The kind of sound that attracts attention to herself, and she's immediately being greeted with a large hand on the shoulder, guiding her forward and into John's side.
"This is my daughter; Beca."
And then Brian and Shelley are looking at her with kind of expectant grins that look like they belong on some freaky animated wolf about to devour it's prey. Leering down at her with round, bright, and arguably semi-crazed eyes and teeth-bearing smiles.
"Um." She glances at John; he's kind of giving her the same look. "Hi."
"Nice to meet you." The woman says, taking half a step-forward and placing a dainty hand against her shoulder in a form of greeting, before stepping back again. Beca still isn't really sure what the protocol for meeting camp instructors is. They were still just smiling at her, not faltering for a second, and it takes Beca a few moments of mindless groping for a response before coming up with a "yeah, um, you too".
"So," Brian turns to her father again, "I'll just go over a few things with you quickly. We do have phones in the lodge, so you can call us here whenever you'd like, or you can make calls," At this, he turns to Beca, throwing her yet another smile, before putting his attention back at the man. He goes over a few more rules, regulations, states things that could get Beca kicked out of the camp (running away, drugs and/ or alcohol, loitering on the boys side of camp after the curfew- oh yeah, it's co-ed!- physically harming anyone on purpose, etc.), and then answers a few of John's questions. And then it's goodbye. Which is stark, and short, and not exactly what Beca would call sweet but that's alright with her. And then the man is getting back in the driver's seat and leaving again- her only hope for any last minute backouts gone with him.
Stranded.
"Okay," Shelley starts, doing that hand thing again and lightly tapping Beca's shoulder, "We're just waiting for everybody to show up. But what you can do is head to the lodge," And then she's pointing to that big log house in the distance, more or less in the centre of winding paths and smaller cabins, "and meet up with everyone else. There are snacks there and you can put down your bags."
She wanted to roll her eyes. She wanted to roll her eyes so hard, but she just sort of tries to lift her mouth into a smile. She thinks it only sticks to half of her face. She probably looks constipated. And then, with that mortifying thought in mind, she leaves immediately. Trekking over the grass, until she makes it onto one of the paths that snake between cabins, dragging her feet towards the big designated building.
Because she doesn't 'do' music camp. She's here, but that doesn't mean she 'does' it. It's not her thing. She is so overwhelmingly, completely, utterly and totally over it already. Literally. Physically. Emotionally. In every sense of the word. But it's also annoying knowing that her brooding isn't going to get her anywhere, and neither will throwing a temper tantrum, so she needs to start thinking of a way out. Of course, she knows a few- given the whole rundown on things that will get her kicked out- so that's a good start. And she has no drugs or alcohol on her person, and she doubts any of the nerds she was going to run into were going to have any, so, there goes that one. She also doesn't think she could get into any sort of fight, but it's not totally out of the question. She could probably take a hit in the face for the greater good. The easiest one would be to hang around on the other side of camp past eleven o'clock. Or to run away- because at least she knows Mitchell's are pretty good at that. Her father had been a track star in high school.
Guess that came in handy for him.
The downside, though, would be that she'd get into like, monumental shit. Her father and Shiela might be in Europe which would save her the scathing for a while, but it'd probably only blow up ten times worse once they got back. Because of course John would see right through her little shtick, he'd know full-well that she'd done it on purpose. And then what? Her Aunt Patti would have to come in from Oklahoma to babysit her ass? Even she wasn't going to be that big of a dick, not to mention the alleged price of this place and the whole no-refunds if you get kicked out thing. She'd probably have to pay it off to her dad. And she couldn't really afford that.
So, that made her stuck. Unless she could figure out some kind of loophole.
And suddenly the lodge is looming in front of her like some huge, stature mausoleum. There are bags littered over the front porch, some embroidered with names, others not- and she can hear chatter coming from inside. The smoke still rising from the chimney and the large, double doors appeared to be her personal metaphor to the gate to her tomb. Emo? Maybe. But Beca really wasn't in the most positive mental state right now, so could she really be blamed?
After sighing, heavy and long, she reluctantly drops her bags next to someone labelled 'Amy'- minus her laptop, though. That was sticking to her side- she works up the courage to enter.
The lodge is warm, it smells like pine and smoke- probably due to the giant fireplace in the centre of the room that heated the whole place. There are long tables all over the room, covered in food and occupied by kids of various ages. The one thing, though, that Beca noticed; was that the ages clumped together. Forming the appearance of cliques that remind her of high-school so passionately that Beca wishes this was all a coma dream, and she'd had some kind of severe accident instead of this being her reality. She was pretty sure that was not the case.
A few heads turn as she enters, but everyone is quickly immersed back into their own conversations and Beca feels a little bit too overwhelmed to really feel too much of anything right now, or register faces, so she just sort of scoots along the wall until she ends up in a far corner with some Asian girl. At least she looked just as uncomfortable being there as she felt. And Beca's like, seventy-five percent sure she might have said something under her breath as she approached, but other than that, she said nothing, which Beca could at least appreciate. She needed time to gain her bearings. There were more people than she expected to find here, and, maybe even more surprisingly; a lot of them looked her age. And suddenly Beca was re-evaluating how terrible she expected it to be if she was the oldest. It seems somehow less terrible than being surrounded by her own age group. At least if she was the oldest she could come off as having a reason to sulk, and not talk to anyone. Being social was a bit more expected of her now.
"Hi!"
Beca jumps.
The voice is close to her ear, and she hadn't heard an approach nor did the Asian girl on the other side of her give any indication that someone else had appeared in their general vicinity. And Beca needs these kind of cues to psych herself up for potential conversation. But this was abrupt and without warning, and as she turned; whoa, this girl was like, very much in her personal space, too. Taking a shuffling step back in attempt to put some distance between them, Beca allows her eyes to adjust. The girl's absolute beam is the first thing she notices- and she thinks it borders on creepy- the next being the vivid blue of her eyes, and after that, the contrasting red of her hair. Beca's mind pieces all the fragments together and comes to the conclusion that the girl was pretty. Like, very pretty. Like, the girl who would most definitely not be talking to Beca if this were high school pretty.
Fucking music camp.
"I'm Chloe!" She's very enthusiastic, too. And not at all deterred by Beca's reaction.
"Um." Beca's eyes shift away from the intensity of this 'Chloe's' and find the girl beside her; suddenly she dreamed that the Asian girl was more talkative than she, so that she could swoop in and take the reins. All she does though, is some weird fish thing with her mouth. Beca then decides looking back at Chloe was better. "Hi."
"Hi." She says again, her eyes also now shifting to the girl beside Beca, as if she just realized she was there. When the pregnant pause draws out a little longer with the indication that neither girl was about to respond, she prompts again. "What's your name?"
The first thing that comes to mind is that Beca wants to make a wise-ass comment about how they'll all probably have a Kumbaya moment where they all went around in a circle and had to present themselves, anyway, so the introductions might as well wait. But something told her that this girl was persistent, and probably wouldn't leave even if Beca asked her to. She kind of had that crazy look about her. "Beca." She finally says, albeit warily.
And Jesus Christ, this girl just manages to get happier and happier. It was making Beca dizzy. "Nice to meet you! This is your first year here?"
Something alerts Beca to the fact that this girl may be someone who comes here often, which deters her even further. "Yep." The vowel elongates in the word, raising an octave and making her sound as if she was actually speaking to a psych ward patient. She hadn't meant for it it come out that way, but upon this notion of realization, it just sort of had of it's own accord. Considering she has to be here all summer, though, she might not want to piss off the crazy person. "My dad is going to Europe this summer, so, he needed somewhere to... put me." Elaboration. And the clear, yet subtle statement that she'd rather be anywhere but here.
Chloe cocks her head to the side in a piqued interest, reminding Beca of one of those fancy spaniel dogs. "Oh? Is it like, a business trip?"
Asking about her father's work wasn't exactly something she'd expected. "No-no, uh, just like, with my stepmom."
And then something imperceptible shifts in the girl's eyes as she seems to consider what Beca had said. Before she can say anything, though, the front doors of the lodge were being opened again and those Posen camp leaders are walking in with two others behind them. A blonde girl and a curly haired boy, and while the boy awkwardly makes his way to the side that was mostly inhabited by guys, the girl continues up to the front of the room to stand near the fire place with Brian and Shelley. It doesn't take long to piece together that this girl must be their daughter, because she was practically a split image of the woman, in younger form.
She hears Chloe make some kind of noise under her breath, and the girl is ducking away to take a seat on one of the many long wooden tables. She's then patting at the spot beside her and looking at Beca expectantly. And, had they not already made eye contact, Beca would try her damndest to ignore the gesture, but instead she just takes a seat against the corner of the table. Not in the spot Chloe was indicating, but not completely avoiding the gesture, either. She hoped this would be fine middle ground. It seemed to be, as the ginger was turning her attention back to the speaker's in the front.
Thankfully, there was no Kumbaya moment like she had assumed. They just went over rules, again, talked about some of the activities and schedules, and introduced their daughter, Aubrey, who was handing out said schedules. "They have your cabin number, your routine, and the summer overview on them," Brian explained, "If you have any problems, please feel free to speak to myself or Shelley and we'll get it sorted out for you."
Beca couldn't help but think she had several problems, but she didn't think the Posen's could be much help to her. She watched as the blonde approached, sifting through the stack of papers before finding what must have been Chloe's, and handing it to the girl with a wide grin. Chloe returned it just as optimistically; they looked like they've known each other a long time. That kind of warmth was not something Beca received, however, when Aubrey approached her and that smile slipped off of her face as though she'd stumbled across some kind of hobo pawing through her garbage. Disapproval, to say the least. Beca felt herself sigh under the look, as the girl began sorting through the pile again, finding her schedule and then handing it to her with a grimace. This was more like it, Beca thought. Aubrey looked very polished, and she kind of had that same drill sergeant seriousness on her face that her father had. Beca could imagine her on the debate team, or something, and she was pretty enough to not talk to Beca in the halls. This was the natural order of things. So, she responded as she usually would; a crooked, sarcastic smile.
The schedule had- maybe most alarmingly- a small picture of herself in the upper left corner, and Beca tried hard for a moment to remember if her father had needed to put in a picture of her when he was applying. But she really couldn't remember. Either way, it was creepy. Then, there was her name, and all of that usual info; the kind that said she had no allergies so she wouldn't like, eat a peanut and die by accident, and her birthday, emergency contacts, all that. And then there was a timetable that Beca didn't really bother looking at, at the moment. Lastly, there was a cabin name; Squirrel's Hideout, which she found ironic.
"Remember," Shelley said, clapping her hands together as though she was making an immense point. "You and your cabin will be earning points over the course of the summer. The cabin with the most points at the end will be rewarded with a special treat."
She rolled her eyes again. It sounded as if she was talking to a bunch of preschoolers.
"Looks like we're roomies," The sound nearly causes her to jump again, as Chloe has managed to scooch her way closer along the table and crane her neck to inspect Beca's schedule. Blinking, Beca stares down at her card, and then at Chloe's, scanning the bottom of the page for the name of her cabin.
And damn it, there it was. Squirrel's Hideout.
It was just her luck to get stuck with the lunatic.
As it turns out, she isn't stuck with Chloe alone. She has two other roommates; the Amy whose bags Beca had dropped hers against, and some other girl named Stacie. Amy, who apparently preferred to be called Fat Amy, for some reason; was loud, obnoxious, and Tasmanian, interestingly enough. She partially wonders about the origin story that somehow lead her here, but doesn't ask. And Stacie, well, she's terrifyingly good looking. Beca is pretty used to seeing attractive girls around school, and she'd never felt in any way intimidated- because she kept her distance, clearly. But Stacie was a different story. She was like Megan Fox; tall, buxom, and brunette- Beca would directly conclude that a girl like her would absolutely own her halls at school, and probably bully people like Beca. She was just that good looking. Thankfully, though, in her very brief meeting with the girl; she appeared to be weird as hell. Much like everyone here, actually. So that sort of put Beca at a little bit of ease.
Let the records stand, though, that she isn't happy. Not one bit. She's stuck with a mental patient, a brash Tasmanian, and a Victoria's Secret model. And she isn't sure how she's supposed to adjust. But, not to fear- that's what today is for! Shelley had been so clear to 'kick back' and 'explore within the camp boundaries'. There'd be no classes today but a campfire tonight! Goodie!
Beca wanted to cry. Frustration cry, obviously.
The cabin, on the other hand, was... interesting. Squirrel's Hideout was hidden away behind another all girl's cabin called 'Doe Den' (seriously? What was with these names?) and the female shower/bathroom house. Because, oh yeah- they had to have public showers here. There were three stalls with curtains for showers, and another room with four toilet stalls. It was a nightmare. Beca contemplated throwing herself off of the lodge to end it all now.
But, Squirrel's Hideout- it was a probably the size of Beca's living room back home, it had a tiny heater that sounded like a machine factory, and two sets of bunk beds. And, to make matters worse, Beca had spent so long sulking around the camp before entering the cabin that she got last claim. Well, sort of. Apparently, Stacie and Amy had struck up a friendship when scoping out the boys side of camp and having a very much inappropriate 'girl talk'. Therefore, they'd decided to bunk together. Which left Beca with one option.
"Top or bottom?" Chloe asks, sitting on her own luggage at the foot of what was now Amy's bed and holding a pillow to her chest. She was still smiling. Beca didn't think she's seen a second yet where the girl didn't smile; which was unnerving to say the least.
Beca, who'd just walked in the door and hadn't pieced together what had happened yet, had been blindsided. "Pardon?" She blinks owlishly, gaping at the girl.
Chloe glances towards the empty bunks, and Beca follows her gaze, before coming back to the scene before her. That's when it had started to make sense. Amy was lounging on the bottom bunk of her own bed, with Stacie on the top, holding a book over her head. She was looking at Beca, though. They all were. "I didn't claim one yet," Chloe explains, "I thought I'd wait and let you have first pick, because I don't mind."
And Beca curses herself for being so stupid and mopey- when she could have avoided this entire situation. She could have begged Stacie- no, more likely Amy, she was less scary- to be her bunkmate. But now she was stuck with the scariest, most likely to be unstable one of them all.
"Um." Think fast, Mitchell. "Top, I guess." The seclusion was better up there, she decides. She doesn't move from her spot in the doorway, though.
"Okay." Chloe seems completely unaffected by the choice, as she gets up and tosses her bags and pillow onto the bottom bunk. "I had a feeling you'd pick that."
And that's a bizarre thing to say, Beca's brain informs her, once it's caught up with the situation. Narrowing her eyes, she begins forwards; the bags were starting to hurt her shoulders. "What?" Because 'why', and 'what do you mean', both sound a little bit too borderline freak-out for her to come off semi-casual.
Chloe, who had been unravelling a sleeping bag; something Beca suddenly realizes she doesn't have, peeks at her over her shoulder. Still smiling. Still creepy. "You just seem like a top."
The innuendo maybe isn't as blatant as she thinks it is; but Beca still feels like she's been slapped in the face. It wasn't spoken like an innuendo, and Chloe was back at unfolding the materials and spreading it over the empty wooden box of a bed. She isn't sure what to make of it, so she says nothing, but she can feel the heat rise up her neck and into her face, so she hastily moves towards the ladder to hoist herself up. She catches Stacie's eye, though, across from her, and the girl is definitely smirking like it was an insinuation. Which only makes her blush more, and she quickly looks away, clamping her tongue between her teeth in hopes of distracting herself with the pain instead of the aching uncomfortable feeling under her skin.
"You and me both, Becs," Stacie sighs, and not suffocating herself in her bag suddenly becomes a huge difficulty.
She locates a sleeping bag, along with Amy, who had the same problem, by tracking down Shelley near the lodge. Thankfully, this kind of thing apparently happens often, and there were sleeping bags to spare. It kind of grossed Beca out, however; given that the history of the bags were unknown. So she was leaving it chance that she doesn't contract lice or something and praying to anyone above who might be listening that no one had ever copulated in it. Amy must have been having the same thoughts, because on the way back, she leaned into Beca and whispered. "You think they wash these, yeah?"
And that's how she ends up on the top bunk again, grunting as she tried to lay the bag out flat against the surface. Something told her that her back was going to be realigned by the time she's done at this place, practically sleeping on a wooden plank and all. And she didn't understand how everyone could be so jovial and unbothered by it; she sort of felt like a petulant toddler once she realizes how uncomfortable it is.
Chloe's red-hair appears over the side of her bunk. Still smiling. "Are you excited to sing?"
Beca, still pouting, scoffs. "Um, no I- I don't sing." She says it with finality, hoping that the girl would take the hint and go bother one of the other girls. She could only dream of being so lucky.
"Then what do you do?"
There wasn't a chance that she was going to start discussing hobbies with her. She didn't need to give the girl a reason to start stalking her, or something. Beca can see those baby-blues flit over to her laptop bag at the foot of her bunk, though, and she senses that a question about that is coming next.
"What's that for?"
Called it. Beca clears her throat, sitting back on her hunches as she takes a deep breath in. Chloe felt a lot like an inquisitive child. And Beca wasn't good with kids.
"It's a laptop." She says flatly, only glancing at the girl from the corner of her eye before busying herself with the sleeping bag again.
Chloe rolls her eyes; a movement that catches Beca off guard because she didn't expect the girl to be capable of sarcasm. "Well, yeah. But why?"
"Because." She says simply, taking a deep breath in through her nose. She could feel her patience dwindling. "I like it."
It's a good enough reason for Chloe. Her head disappears again, and she doesn't say a word until they're leaving for that campfire thing. Beca drags herself out of the cabin only after the other three have left.
The campfire was more like a huge bonfire, really; large enough for all of the members to accommodate themselves around it in two layers of a circle. There were plenty of chairs, but as people wandered back and forth, cooking marshmallows, and roasting hotdogs, the arrangements kept switching up. Beca pretty much kept herself rooted in the back, once she'd cooked her own hotdog. This is where the Kumbaya thing had commenced, a few members were clearly familiar with each other. Beca had idly noted the people around her age, the amount still sort of blowing her away. There was Jessica and Ashley, Cynthia Rose and Flo, the Asian girl from earlier; Lily, she said her name was, but Beca didn't actually hear it. And then there was this guy, who said his name was Jesse, and she kept accidentally making eye contact with him throughout the evening. He kind of reminded Beca of a puppy, and he seemed a little too happy to be there, which was off-putting. And that Aubrey girl was there again, glaring.
Once the 'official' business had finished up around the bonfire, Brian and Shelley allowed dismissal, if people wanted. Beca went straight back to her bunk, huddling under the blanket and scowling. It was all just as horrible as she imagined.
First class was at nine o'clock in the morning. Which was about two hours earlier than Beca would have preferred. And to make matters worse, if you wanted to eat breakfast, you had to be up and in the lodge before then.
"Bec."
That's how she's woken. It's soft spoken and somewhere distant. And then she's being prodded gently on the shoulder. "Bec, wake up." Shaken, just a little bit. Just enough to rouse her from sleep and she squints open her eyes- frightened to find big blue ones looking back down at her.
"Huh- what?" It's a half grunt as she's bolting upright and away from the girl. Chloe just blinks back at her. She's smiling. "What time is it?"
"Eight." Chloe answers, before pointing to a watch fastened against her wrist. Beca baulks- about to give the girl a piece of her mind before she notices that the other two are up, too, but just barely. Amy is half-stumbling around the room, and Stacie is making her bed. Chloe continues before Beca can say anything else. "Do you want breakfast? And, what's your schedule? Do you know where you're supposed to be?"
The gears are turning more slowly in her mind, groggy still, unable to process the assault of things being asked of her. She can barely process Chloe's whole person right now. "Um, breakfast, yeah?" She tries, still not sure why she was being woken up so early.
Chloe nods, but is still looking at her for a response on those last two questions. Furrowing her brow, Beca sits up all the way, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with her knuckle and diving into the bag that she hadn't bothered to put on the floor before falling asleep last night. Where she'd stuffed her schedule. Grabbing ahold of it, she stares down at the paper. From nine to eleven on Monday's, she has a class simply called 'Dance' in the lodge. That sounds like hell, she thinks easily, scanning the rest of the schedule. Afterwards, there's a lunch break from eleven to twelve thirty, and then another class labelled 'Vocals for stage' from twelve-thirty to three. And then the simply put, 'Outdoor knowledge'. At five-thirty, it's dinner in the lodge. And the last block is labelled 'Free'.
How routine. How awful. She inspects the rest.
Tuesday: DANCE 9:00AM-11:00AM
LUNCH 11:00AM- 12:30PM
COMPOSITION 12:30PM- 3:00PM
DINNER PREPARATION: 3:00PM-5:00PM
DINNER: 5:30PM
FREE: 6:30PM-7:30PM
Wednesday: FREE 9AM-11AM
LUNCH 11:00AM-12:30PM
VOCALS FOR STAGE 12:30PM-3:00PM
WRITTEN THEORY 3:00PM-5:00PM
DINNER 5:30PM
OUTDOOR KNOWLEDGE 6:30PM-7:30PM
Thursday: FREE 9:00AM-11:00AM
LUNCH 11:00AM-12:30PM
VOCALS FOR STAGE: 12:30PM-3:00PM
OUTDOOR KNOWLEDGE 3:00PM-5PM
DINNER 5:30PM
COMPOSITION 6:30PM-7:30PM
Friday: DANCE 9:00AM-11:00AM
LUNCH 11:00AM-12:30PM
COMPOSITION 12:30PM-3:00PM
DINNER PREPARATION 3:00PM-5:00PM
DINNER 5:30PM
WRITTEN THEORY 6:30PM-7:30PM
Groaning at how very much it reminds her of high school, Beca throws herself back against the pillow. Immediately regrets it, however, when she forgets that it's wood beneath her and not a mattress.
"Can I see?" Chloe chirps, gripping against the ladder tighter and hoisting herself farther up. "I've already compared mine to Amy and Stacie's."
It's weird, and Beca would prefer her not to, but she's too tired and annoyed to stop the girl from scooping her schedule up and vanishing with it. Likely sitting and correlating it side to side with her own somewhere beneath her. "We all have dance together," She muses, "That's nice. Aubrey teaches that class."
And there'd been nothing on the schedule about who teaches what on the schedule, which is what causes a crease to form between Beca's brows as she sits back up, assuming she'll have to start making herself look presentable if she wants breakfast. "Dude," She grunts, cautiously making her way down the ladder. "How do you know that?" Because the stalker vibe was greater than ever.
Chloe blinks over at her, still holding the two schedules in her hands. "Aubrey is like, my best friend." She beams. Still creepy. "I've been coming here ever since I was eight or something."
And Beca isn't sure if that's good or bad news. So she just grunts, and begins sifting through the bag of clothes- the one she had dropped onto the floor last night.
Breakfast was nice. Great, really. There was a very impressive selection of eggs, toast, pancakes, bacon, with tons of juice or tea or coffee. And Beca likes to think she has a particularly special relationship with food, so that was like, super nice and it did something to lift her spirits; even just a little. Even if she was stuck between Amy and Chloe, who were both either A) scarfing down bacon like it was the last time they'd ever see it. Or B) kept looking at her like a creepy stalker.
The full stomach was less of a blessing though once she made it to the dance classroom- which was another room on the bottom floor of the lodge. She'd come to learn that the Posen's lived on the upper level in the summertime. And apparently it was ultra swanky, but she wouldn't know.
She'd also come to learn that one Aubrey Posen had a superiority complex and she seemed to believe she was running some kind of dictatorship. This was no lenient dance class. Beca was glad the brochure had informed her to bring clothes suitable to workout in, and that Chloe (yes, she was thankful) had reminded her that she ought to wear said clothes to the class. It was the equivalent of burning hell if she'd ever seen it- and she had to take Phys Ed with Mr. Ryerson last year- who was probably as certifiably insane as Aubrey and/or Chloe. At least maybe it was something of a bonding experience, because every other girl in the room looked like they hadn't known they'd signed up to the military, and Beca liked to think that created some form of unspoken unity between them.
Either way, she'd never been so happy when eleven o'clock came. She'd spent her lunch time avoiding Chloe, ending up instead wandering the paths with Amy and Cynthia Rose. Who, admittedly, Beca didn't completely hate.
"Yo, she's crazy," The girl rasped, and that probably had a large something to do with the fact that she had warmed up to the other girl so fast.
They'd found a dock on the lake and investigated, but the way it swayed under feet was a little bit unsettling so they had instead returned to the lodge; grabbing sandwiches and vitamin water to try to regain what they had lost during that class.
Next is that Vocals class that Beca is less than excited about. It's held in the same room as the dance class, the windows all propped open and girls gathered around. There's no Chloe here, which is nice, but there's Amy and Stacie- which is also fine. But there's Aubrey too. That's less than. And when Beca finds out they're singing acapella- like, the lamest thing in the whole history of lame things- she thinks about throwing herself from the lodge again. She doesn't. She opts for instead moping around and hardly even trying to perform well, which grants her many glowers from the blonde girl, so it seems kind of worth it.
Outdoor knowledge is co-ed, and since Cynthia Rose and Stacie are both in that with her, she sticks to either of their sides like glue. Mostly Cynthia Rose. Stacie's good looks still kind of scare her, even though she's come to find out the girl is pretty nice; if not just unashamedly inappropriate. The puppy boy is there too, and Beca thinks he tries to talk to her at some point, by the way he approaches her and opens his mouth before being cut off by Brian slinging them through the woods.
They were hiking. More god damn exercise.
Dinner is fine. It goes about the same as breakfast, except now Beca feels like she's dying and her legs are killing her and she's been sweating all day long.
"You have a free evening now, don't you, Becs?" Chloe asks from around a spoonful of some kind of homemade soup. Beca isn't sure what made the girl think they were good enough pals to now have nicknames, and she was kind of worried that the girl was going to ask her to hangout, but she nods sheepishly anyway. "Yeah."
"Lucky." Chloe groans good-naturedly, "I have written theory. Trust me, that class is boring."
And because engaging in small talk even before the other person is a weirdo isn't really her thing, Beca just nods again, offering nothing else up for the conversation. She finishes her soup and bun, grabs one of those home-made cookies for dessert, and leaves the lodge feeling heavy and exhausted. Leave it to John Mitchell to send his kid to bootcamp while he's off touring Europe. She hopes he can feel the hatred she's sending his way right now via telepathy. Back at the cabin, she finds it to be a beautiful thing that it's empty, and she's planting herself face first on her bunk, albeit gently, because this time she remembers it's wood- and passes out before she can even finish eating.
She's not sure what time it is when she wakes up. She sees Amy's form on her bed as well, and by the snoring she's doing, she must have had the same idea. Stacie and Chloe are gone though. But it's still light outside which means she mustn't have been out that long. Somewhere between making a decision about what to do, she falls back asleep.
Which is maybe not a great idea, because at some point during the night, she wakes up, and it's dark now. Amy is still asleep. She's pretty sure she can see Stacie sleeping, too. And Beca tosses and turns on her damn uncomfortable wooden sleeping box, unable to shut her eyes and find sleep again. Her clothes are sticking to her skin in a manner that soon grows troublesome when Beca realizes how disgusting that is; given the sweating she'd been doing all day. So, she's not sure how much time has passed by the time she convinces herself to creep down from her ladder, and tiptoe over the wooden floorboards to her bag. To avoid rummaging through it, she just grabs the whole thing and takes it with her; softly opening and closing the door behind her as she exits the cabin and heads to the shower house.
There are no lights on anywhere, really; other than the showers, because those are always on, Shelley had explained. And Beca can concede to the idea that it's kind of nice; because she can actually see the stars in the sky for once and hear the crickets, and the reflection of the moon over the lake is very charming. But God, does she ever love the quiet.
She enters in through the side of the building that houses the toilets; using the counter to put her bag down and grab out what she needed. Without thinking, she'd began to hum. The hum, somewhere along the line, had turned into the words of a song, the last one she'd been working on trying to sort into a mix- back before she was shipped off. Beca pushes open the door that joined the toilets to the shower room, glad about the vacancy of the walls that allow her words to spring back to her. Slipping into a stall, Beca strips, hangs her towel on the hook, and turns on the faucet She's left waiting for the water to warm before stepping all the way in. Another nice bonus to coming here in the middle of the night, she noticed, was that she didn't have to wait too long.
It seems natural for her, though, for her solitude to be too good to be true.
"You can sing!" The sound of metal wrings sliding over the bar grate Beca back into her own body- losing the rhythm of her song as white-hot panic bursts through her and she's simultaneously spinning to see who was barging into her shower and pressing herself against the tile to distance herself from them. She first thing she spots is a smile.
"Dude!" She gasps, scandalized, her arms coming up to cover her chest. Forget what she'd thought earlier about stalker vibes; this takes the cake. Frantically, Beca realizes her arms don't cover everything; and she grasps out for the curtain, holding it to her like a shield.
Chloe doesn't seem at all flustered about the situation, in fact, she bats the curtain out of the way again to allow herself farther in. This can't be happening. Beca has to be having a nightmare. An exercise-induced nightmare. "How high does your belt go?" She presses, leaning forward. That's when Beca, quite belatedly, comprehends that she's not the only one naked right now.
"My what?" She glues her eyes anywhere but to the girl in front of her. She wants to run. But she's cornered. "Oh my God."
"You have to audition for the Bellas." There's a seriousness to Chloe's face now, and Beca thinks it might be the first time she's seen the smile slip.
"I can't concentrate on anything you're saying until you cover your junk." Because she can't, she really can't- it's all there, right in front of her. And she can hear sound and see Chloe's mouth moving but her actual words are lost on Beca.
There's an excitability- almost desperateness to Chloe's words that Beca can sense. But again, any meaning is going beyond Beca. "Just- consider it." Chloe pleads, taking a few small steps forwards. Subtly, Beca reaches for the curtain again, trying her hardest to keep any part of her hand or arm from accidentally grazing any of the girl's frame. And through all of that focus, she's pretty sure she can make out the word 'Prince' and 'butt' before Chloe is making some kind of gesture that effectively knocks the almost-empty shampoo bottle from Beca's hand- which kind of puts into perspective how close they were currently standing. In the shower. Totally naked.
"Oops!" Chloe says, not at all sounding very genuine, as the bottle hits the tile and Beca's first reaction is to get it. Anything to get away from her. Even a little. The malfunctioning in her brain though is to blame for her lack of thought that, really, that was a horrible idea and she at one point was eye level with every single one of Chloe's unmentionables and she manages to choke out an 'Oh, Jesus' as she sees the girls feet take a few steps back again, providing her with a little bit more space. Beca grabs the bottle into her hand and cowers into the corner, turning so that she was looking at the girl over her shoulder.
"Seriously? I am nude."
"You were singing Titanium, right?" Chloe points out, like that was absolutely quintessential to the whole thing.
Which, Beca takes a moment to register. She had been singing Titanium, yes. But for some reason, she hadn't expected Chloe to know. She seemed too... well, she seemed too much like she'd been stuck in a maximum security psych ward. This wasn't really helping her case, either.
"You know David Guetta?"
"Have I been living under a rock?" The girl almost looks offended, but that notion slips away as she begins to nod. "Yeah. That song is my jam."
And suddenly Beca has a few more things to worry about other than murder. Chloe leans forwards again, complete disregard for personal space. "My lady jam."
"That's nice." Beca looks away just as quickly, fixating on her corner of tile.
"It is." Chloe agrees, not at all catching onto her sarcasm. "That song really builds." And then she's throwing Beca a wink and she's being assaulted with some mental images that she'd rather not be subject to.
"Gross."
"Can you sing it for me?" The request is sincere, and Beca thinks for a moment if only her father could see her now. But then, she's backtracking over that thought- given the fact that she's naked and all.
"Dude, no- get out!"
"Not for that reason," Chloe scoffs, as if it was the most bizarre thing in the world for Beca to assume that. Which, honestly, relieves her a little. But she still wanted to crawl out of her skin. "I'm not leaving here until you sing, so."
It's something that's maybe like a promise- or a threat, depending how you want to look at it. The rational part of her mind wanted to tell her that, come on, there was no way this girl was just going to stand there until she Beca finally sings again. Because Beca could be pretty stubborn- naked or not- and this was so absolutely odd that she most definitely didn't want to give Chloe the time of day to sing for her. Yet, as the seconds ticked on, Beca still in her corner, and Chloe standing there, hands on her hips, taking in the fixtures of the bathroom like it was just another Monday night. She sighs. And that's when it hits her that this girl was also probably crazy enough to stick to her word.
Fucking camp!
Gathering her bearings, Beca readjusts her shampoo bottle and loofah over her body, hoping to cover as much flesh as possible, slowly turning back around to half-face the other girl. God, she tries not to look at her though. And God, she just keeps smiling like a creep. And God, does she have absolutely no shame? She's not even trying to cover herself up.
And maybe, as she starts in on the song, her eyes slip, just for a second. And then Chloe is joining her in the song, harmonizing; and wow, she did have a good voice, but it was a little bit hard to concentrate on that when she was looking at Beca so intently. Like, Beca unintentionally held her eye contact for a second, and suddenly she was stuck. Defeated. This Chloe girl had seriously cornered her in a shower and gotten Beca to sing for her- with her, whatever- and Beca may have been freaking out inside and this has officially probably become the single weirdest moment in her whole life.
It's downright absurd, really. Beca is like, massively uncomfortable, but as the song continues on the realization comes to her that, hell, Chloe has probably seen everything by now so why is she making this harder for herself?
As the chorus comes to an end, Chloe is giving her a close-mouthed, satisfied smile that's maybe creepier than all the other ones, and it makes the corners of Beca's mouth pull into her own grin, borne out of nervousness. Because Chloe wasn't leaving yet. And she thought that was the deal.
"Oh yeah," Chloe maybe catches on to the fact that that's what Beca was sort of expecting. "I'm pretty confident about," Chloe gestures to herself, and Beca has to stop herself from actually following that line of sight. "all of this."
Even more that Beca wasn't prepared to hear. Things just keep getting thrown at her from the left field- and no, Beca wasn't great at catching. But, well, she had to at least give the girl some credit; barging into a shower was ballsy. And, the confidence thing? Was good, she supposed. At least. Maybe. "You should be." What?
"Oh," Chloe is still smiling, and she turns to pick up the towel Beca had left on the hook outside of the stall. Afterwards, she offers it to Beca, and she takes it, holding it tightly against her- thankful, but knowing it was a little too late, anyway. But then she doesn't leave. She doesn't look like she plans on leaving.
"Um," It comes out hushed all of the sudden, the initial surprise of their meeting ebbing away to resign. "I still need to shower."
And she can't tell if Chloe is clueless or just, like, super laid back about the whole naked-in-the-shower-with-strangers-isn't-normal thing, but she just kind of nods again, invading Beca's personal space for a few seconds longer. Beca begins to think of ways to ask her to leave, before the girl is finally vacating her space and closing the curtain behind her. "Think about it!" Is called back to her, before she hears the door close and Beca is left flustered, trying to recall what it is she's supposed to be thinking about.