Miss Robyn runs over to us. “You two are absolutely gorgeous! What authentic-looking princess gowns! They make this old bridesmaid dress of mine appear ordinary.”
“Your dress is very pretty,” Odelia assures her.
“Thank you, Odelia. By the way, girls, we have a new volunteer. Roxanne will be here today and perhaps a few other days going forward. Roxanne, come over here!”
Roxanne is volunteering?
“Bernie!” Roxanne shouts, skipping over. “I got the idea from you. I had to stop moping around and get out of my house. The kids here let me do their hair!”
“Maybe your mom will hold up on the New York trips now,” I tell Roxanne.
“Duh. That’s the plan,” Roxanne says.
I’m glad to see her. If she’s here on Mondays and Wednesdays, and I’m here Tuesdays and Thursdays, we can get together on Fridays and share our Smile Academy stories. I may even let her in on the unbelievable things in my life, like Bernice Baransky’s friend Odelia has been dishing out social graces lessons. And, Bernice Baransky is not the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Baransky. News at eleven.
Roxanne twirls me around. “Holy Sister Mary and Joseph! What a dress! I couldn’t find a thing to wear except this old Halloween costume, but yours is fabulous!” Then she leads me over to a chair. “Sit down. Let’s get you some princess hair, like this princess.” She points to Odelia and I quickly introduce them.
Roxanne squeezes gel into my hair, flips what she can to the top of my head, adds thirty bobby pins to capture the escapees, and seals the deal with her mega hairspray. When she’s finished, my hair is completely pulled up and back. Curly pieces dangle in front of my ears. The girl campers ooh and aah over my ‘do and each one squeals, hoping they’re Roxy, Super Stylist to the Star’s next victim.
Prince Robbie, Timothy, Joe, Sammy, Angelo, and the rest of the boys fight the stuffed dragon with swords made from soft foam. Princess Claire is running around screaming, “Save me! Save me!” and the other princesses are copying her. It’s mayhem. And mayhem is exactly what I need today.
While the kids have a tea party, I pull Miss Robyn into her office and explain my idea to teach them skating. “I could stay past noon, and start with skateboarding lessons on the camp’s parking lot. I can teach them to ride and stop, and maybe show them a couple of basic tricks. They’d love it.”
“Where would they get skateboards?” Miss Robyn asks. “And safety equipment? It would have to be highly supervised. The moms and dads will have to supply the equipment because there’s not enough money in our account to fund this. And what if they think that skateboarding is not an appropriate activity? I don’t want to be pessimistic, but we’re asking a lot of the parents here. They may not go for it.”
“Skateboarding is not a crime,” I say. “It’s good exercise. And I bet Porchtown Sports would donate some used boards, helmets, wrist guards, elbow, and knee pads.”
Miss Robyn likes my idea more and more. We draft a letter and a permission slip to send home to the parents.
“I’ll send the information home and ask for the signed slips by Thursday. When you come in that day, we can see who’s responded.”
“Thanks, Miss Robyn. I’ll keep my fingers crossed. I hope we can do this. You can learn to skate with them.”
Miss Robyn rolls her eyes, chuckles, and shoos me back to the playroom.
I stick around for the rest of the party. Odelia and Roxanne are bonding over hairstyles, and I butt in to tell them about my plan.
“That sounds like fun,” Odelia says. “I can help.”
“Can I help?” Roxanne asks.
“You can’t skate,” I remind her.
“Maybe you can teach me.”
“Teach you to skate? On a board? I’d like to see you try!”
Roxanne sticks her tongue out at me. “So, will you ask Wyatt to help out with the kids?”
“Maybe. He’s a good teacher.”
“He’d do it,” Roxanne says. “He likes you.”
“Since when did you get so smart about boys?”
“Since Kyle, this kid in my Sunday youth group, started paying lots of attention to me,” Roxanne answers. “I’m blessed!”
Leave it to Roxanne to pray for attention from a boy and get results. I promise her I’ll get up the guts to ask for Wyatt’s help. There’s a part of me that wants to do this. Then there’s this other part that’s afraid to learn Wyatt Anderson’s true colors. What if he thinks it’s not cool to hang out so much with the campers? If I have to choose between him and them, I don’t know what I’d do.
***
The Sporty Dorkling
By Thursday the kids who are allowed to participate have sent in their permission slips. The kids who will not be skating are going for a walk with another counselor. Jessica is not happy about walking, because she wants to be with her friend Elizabeth, who will be learning to skate. Jessica’s parents didn’t sign her up for skateboarding lessons because she’s leaving for vacation next week and won’t be back in time to finish the lessons. I told Jess she can be our official water bottle carrier. I’ve never seen someone so happy about water.
While the kids are eating lunch, Odelia, Roxanne, and I meet in the parking lot. We line up orange cones in a big square and use sidewalk chalk to write: SKATER SAFETY AREA. We’re starting here, and then moving to the skate park, if the kids cooperate. Miss Robyn will come along to supervise and the other counselors will stay with the non-skaters.
“Hey, Bernie,” Roxanne shouts. “What happened to the skater grunge look? I thought for sure you’d change into your usual raggedy tee and those awful cut-offs.”
“My mom uses those for cleaning rags now,” I tell her.
“About time!” Roxanne says. “I’m loving those orange shorts. I don’t think they match your
