A/N: So here you go: Chapter Three! Chapter Four ought to be going up next weekend. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, and thank you again to my lovely beta Biskuits for keeping my slang honest (I'm not TOO out of touch, but I speak the Canadian version of North American Teenager lol. Okay, maybe I'm a LITTLE out of date... ;-) ). Enjoy! ~Kryss
Chapter Three: Going Under
Kir spent the rest of the night with the others; the idea of lying alone in the cabin in the dark, listening to the storm rage around her and wondering when the girls were going to return, and if they'd be, like, possessed or zombies or something if they did come in, was just too much.
They lit all the lanterns and turned them up as bright as they could without smoking up the glass, but no one said anything much. Kir, armed with a borrowed blanket against the chill, snuggled into a corner and closed her eyes, but she didn't drift off to sleep until morning was lightening the sky. When she woke up a few hours later, after an uneasy sleep, it was to see Sarah still in the same position, sitting up in her bunk, arms around her knees, staring into the distance.
By the time they left for breakfast, the storm had settled into a steady grey drizzle. "Perfect," muttered Su as she huddled under the cabin's small porch roof. "Anyone bring a raincoat? Umbrella? Anything?"
"Of course not," Randy said, closing the door behind them.
"Well, why the hell not?" Su snapped.
"Because it never rains at music camp!" Randy snapped back.
"No, never," murmured Sarah. "Not once in five years…" She stepped off the porch and headed to the main hall. The other three eyed each other uneasily for a moment before Su finally sighed and, holding her jacket over her head, dashed off after her. Randy rolled her eyes at Kir and followed.
Kir wasn't sure she wanted to go. She knew she'd be asked what had happened to the girls if they hadn't turned up, and if they had… Well. She could imagine the blank, spooky stare they'd all have. Creepy. And her stomach positively churned at the thought of food. But she didn't want to be left alone…
Randy turned back to call, "You coming?"
"Yeah," she muttered, and then, louder, "Yeah, I'm coming." Raising her own jacket to cover her head, she headed off into the rain.
Much to her surprise, the main hall was completely normal. The long tables were full of the other girls eating their breakfast; happy, or sleepy, or grouchy, but all perfectly normal. Kir realized that she'd half-expected to see them all running around in a panic, or the place on fire, or something. This was… This was, like, normal. Creepily normal.
"Hey," Randy pointed with her chin as Kir caught up to her in the line-up. Turning, Kir saw Megan sitting at her usual place, with Melanie and Triffy. None of them seemed to be zombies or anything, though, Kir noted with relief, although Triffy was looking unusually subdued, and Megan kept giving Melanie dirty glances. Kir wished she could see Melanie's expression, but with her back to the line-up, all Kir could make out was that her shoulders were all hunched up.
"Megan's probably been ragging on her all night," Randy whispered with a grin. She seemed quite cheerful suddenly. Even Kir felt better, seeing them there like that, although Sarah, she saw, still had a pinched look.
"Oh! Kirsten, dear, a word, if I may?" Miriam, the second counselor, drew her a little aside. "Kirsten, I'm sorry to have heard that apparently you left your cabin in the middle of the night last night. Your mother assured me that you were a responsible girl; I do not want to be forced to inform her that you have been ignoring Lights Out."
Kir glanced over; sure enough, Megan was watching her with an open smirk. "Um, I'm sorry," she said. "I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd go and talk—go and go for a walk, just to the toilets, you know, and stuff, but then it started to rain and I was just in my pajamas so I thought perhaps I'd borrow an umbrella or something from Randy and them, but no one had anything like that, so I just borrowed a blanket and stayed there. I'm sorry," she added, since Miriam seemed to be waiting for more. "I won't do it again. I was just really tired, but I couldn't sleep, you know…" She gestured vaguely.
"Well, just so you understand that it isn't appropriate behavior," said Miriam, not looking entirely mollified.
"Oh, I know it's not!" Kir hastened to assure her.
"But I suppose, given the suddenness and the severity of the storm last night…"
"I wouldn't have gone out if it had been raining," Kir said. "And I won't do it again," she added, seeing the look on Miriam's face. "I'm usually a very sound sleeper, anyways."
"Well, alright, then," said Miriam. "Just please don't do it again."
"I won't," Kir promised and, sensing dismissal, rejoined Randy in the line. "Stupid cow," she muttered.
"Who? Miriam?" Randy held her plate out for pancakes.
"No, Megan. She totally told Miriam that I went out in the middle of the night! Bitch."
"Hmm," said Randy, grabbing syrup, "Smart. Well, think about it," she added at Kir's look of betrayal, "How're you going to go and tell on her now? Miriam'd never believe you. I wouldn't call her intelligent, precisely, but she certainly does excel at a certain sly vindictiveness, doesn't she?"
Kir just Hmph-ed as she held out her own plate.
The weather was too wet to hold the lessons outside as usual, Janet, the head counselor, informed the girls as they were finishing up, so instead they would be held in the hall. "Run and fetch whatever you need for the day," she told them, "And then come back here and we'll get started."
Kir shared the walk to her cabin with The Rationalists. "I wonder if there's some way I can move in with you guys?" she muttered as they stopped on her porch.
"There's no room," Sarah said, not without sympathy.
"Besides," Randy added, "It might be a good idea to have you around keeping an eye on them. You know, infiltrate the enemy camp, and all that."
"Yeah, I suppose…" Still, Kir wasn't looking forwards to being in the same room as Megan, let alone sleeping in it.
"Hey, don't worry," said Su. "Just go and grab your stuff before they get here, and we'll see you back at the hall, okay?"
"Okay," Kir echoed, watching them heading off through the drizzle with a sense of desolation.
The monotony of the day actually somehow made Kir feel a little bit better. Sure, it was sort of weird to have everyone all lumped into the hall all day, instead of scattered in small groups all over the place outside, and of course there was no afternoon swim down at the lake, not with the cold, persistent drizzle, but, all in all, it was okay. Megan seemed satisfied that she had found a way to shut Kir up, and seemed quite happy to ignore her if possible, and be curt if not, but she didn't seem outright hostile. If anything, she projected an air of smug superiority. It was annoying, but Megan was annoying anyways, so Kir managed to ignore her without too much trouble.
Frankly, she was having a lot more trouble deciding what to sing for the damned recital. She was not looking forward to that. It sounded like Randy and Su were going to do some kind of a duet from some opera or other, but Kir didn't know anything well enough to sing but pop songs. Several "real" songs were suggested, but she couldn't read the music well enough to know if she could sing them, and the people who still had functioning MP3 players didn't seem to have any of the songs they were suggesting with them, so she couldn't even just listen to them to get a feel for them. Her own iPod's batteries had died days ago. She desperately missed the research possibilities of iTunes.
She was sitting despondently in a corner, lap covered with sheets of unintelligible music, trying to make a decision when Randy wandered over.
"Hey," she said, hands stuffed into her pockets. "Still trying to choose a song?"
Kir sighed deeply. "Yeah. Miriam gave these to me, but…" She sighed again as she waved a fistful of music about. "Jesus, I don't know any of these songs, I don't have a good singing voice, and they won't just let me sing Row, Row, Row Your Boat." She buried her face in her hands. "I don't know what to do. Everyone else's already practicing their songs, and figuring out what key they want to do it in, and learning the lyrics and stuff, and I can't even…" she trailed off as a lump of self-pity closed her throat.
Randy sat down next to her, crossed her legs, and regarded her for a moment, sympathy in her large brown eyes. "Well, look," she said, finally, "Never mind all that. What's your favorite song to sing in the shower?"
Kir laughed. "Forget it. They'll never let me sing it."
Randy grinned. "Yeah, probably not. Music camp; they like us to sing what our parents consider music, not us." She looked at her hands for a moment, then added, "But it'll give us an idea of what kind of songs you like, what your voice likes. So what's your favorite song?"
Kir thought for a moment. "Jesus, I don't know. There's a bunch."
"Sing something for me."
Kir blushed. "Are you kidding? Here? Now?"
"What, at music camp in a hall full of singing teenagers? Yeah, here, now. Why not? You don't have to do it loudly, just sing me something. The first song you think of."
"Fine." Kir thought a moment, then softly sang, "I will go down with this ship, and I won't put my hands up and surrender, there will be no white flag above my door, I'm in love and always will be…"
"Ah! Got it." Randy's grin was even wider than usual. I know just the song for you. Not too hard, not too wide a range, satisfyingly emotional… You should sing 'It's All The Same' from Man of La Mancha."
"What from what?"
"Trust me. I know they've got the music here; I sang it myself my first year. Like I said, it's an easy one, and if you sound a little raw and unpolished it only makes the song better." She jumped up and pulled Kir to her feet, ignoring the cascade of music sheets. "Come on! Let's find Miriam."
Miriam managed to find the Man of La Mancha folder without too much trouble, and Randy eagerly grabbed it as soon as it was offered and dragged Kir back to the corner. "Here," Randy dug through the sheets of music, "It should be right--- Dammit, hasn't anyone heard of…" She trailed off, a look of irritated concentration on her face.
"What is it?"
"Oh, they've alphabetized…" Randy's mumble trailed off, and her face cleared. "Ah! Here we go. 'It's All The Same' for Aldonza."
Kir felt a little scared. "I don't think I sing an aldonza," she said.
Randy laughed, not unkindly. "No, Aldonza's the character's name. She's the romantic lead."
"Romantic lead? I dunno, Randy… They seem to usually have pretty fancy voices."
"Naw, not her. She's more of a down-to-earth practical girl than some damsel waiting to be rescued." She winked broadly. "No worries, eh? Here, take a look."
Kir read the sheet, her jaw slowly dropping. "Jesus, Randy, she's, like, a total whore! My Mum would kill me if I got up and sang that in front of everyone! I can't sing this," she said, firmly handing the music back.
Randy sighed, and grinned. "Fine, fine. She's the easiest to sing for new voices because, like I said, there's not too much range needed and a little rawness suits her. But, fine, fine…" She shuffled again. "Here. Try this. Even your grandma couldn't object to that."
"'The Impossible Dream'… What's that?"
"You know. To dream the impossible dream, to fight the unbeatable foe, to bear with unbearable sorrow, to run where the brave dare not go… Really, even the higher notes shouldn't give you too much trouble, not if we pick the key carefully, and the lyrics are really easy. You probably already know the tune."
"Yeah, it does sound kind of familiar…"
"Right then. No objections? Good. Your song's picked. Come on," and she hauled Kir to her feet again, "Let's go tell Miriam and get the rest of this lot back to her."
She carefully replaced 'It's All The Same' as Kir gathered up the rest. "Stupid alphabetization…"
Kir straightened, arms full of paper. "How else should it be done?"
"By the order in which it's sung, of course," Randy grumbled.
Kir thought a moment. "Why?" she asked. "I mean, if you knew the song title, and which show it was in, wouldn't it be easier to find if it was alphabetical? I mean, what if you didn't know the show?"
Randy grimaced. "Yeah, okay, I see your point, but," and she held up an instructing finger as they turned to go, "What about Wikipedia, huh? Or band websites, or anything like that? Are the songs listed alphabetically, or in the order they came out in? Eh?"
Kir laughed. "Okay, you got me there. I still think alphabetization helps, though."
Randy snorted. "Only if you don't know what you're doing."
By mid-afternoon Kir was enjoying herself again. She had her song, and Randy had hummed it for her a few times so she had enough of a grasp that she could follow along with the notes, and best of all, she was right: it was an easy song. And pretty enough that her parents would feel they'd gotten their money's worth out of her, she figured.
By dinnertime she had almost forgotten about the previous night's adventure, except for giggling over Su's spastic imitation of the girls' dancing. The whole thing seemed laughably childish, a silly prank that they had allowed to run away with them. It was like looking back at an evening of ghost stories around a campfire, she realized, and realizing just how stupid you had been to have been so freaked out the evening before. Yeah, just like that, she thought. Right down to the Opera Ghost and the campfire pit.
Of course there was no campfire that evening, not with the wet, but they still had a fun evening in the hall, drinking hot chocolate with marshmallows, and relating the most embarrassing things that had happened to each other on stage. Kir almost peed herself by the time Su and Randy finished the story of a truly dreadful music camp debut several years before, and felt immensely reassured. Tripping over a suddenly unpinned skirt as it fell around their ankles, only to realize that they had forgotten their underwear in the rush to get changed… No matter what, she was pretty sure, she wouldn't screw up that badly!
She was still snickering as she made her way back to her cabin, got changed, and climbed into her sleeping bag to a blessedly quiet chorus of subdued 'goodnights' all round.
She slept well and deeply for almost the first night out of her own bed, barely even rousing enough to notice the door opening briefly onto the rain. In fact, her good mood lasted all the way to breakfast.
Unfortunately, halfway through her oatmeal, cold dread returned.
A/N: Kir's song is White Flag by Dido; the rest are, obviously, from The Man of La Mancha. Fabulous movie made of it back in 1972; track it down if you can! ~Kryss