Loretta was missing.
I was torn between feeling fretful and feeling like this was just Loretta seeking attention. But Tan was worried and asking everyone who ran past her to please help with looking for her. Reasonably, Tan had to stay in case someone brought back news. I went to the west road north and discovered that there had been a massive rock slide.
Like, an avalanche of stone and mud, rock slide. I sniffled at even the idea of someone getting caught in that!
But not the G.E.D. worker stationed there. Oh, no. When he was discussing even the idea of someone getting caught in it, he was so flippant about them being potentially injured and then got distracted by his own food analogy.
I may have lost my temper with him. (Evening is of the firm belief that there is no “may” but I argue I was still perfectly reasonable. Just…loud.)
He quickly directed me to the construction site, and I was so incensed, Evening and I ran there at full speed and would have missed it if it weren’t for the tacky billboard. Mr. Kembell looked as plastic as a doll, and spoke just as artificially. I flushed at his mockery, but I wasn’t about to back down when someone was potentially hurt. (Although I dare him to come to England and say that. I dare him. Daddy would see him ruined.)
In order to get him to clear the road, despite him admitting it would be in his own self-interest, he demanded that I mark four trees for death. But I am not an idiot. I didn’t mark any tree that crossed my path. I picked four that weren’t in the best of health and taking them down would actually be more a favor. It helped me keep my chin up when he tried to go back on his word and make a fool of me. But he sent the bulldozer, that’s what mattered, actually before I even reached him to ask him to borrow it.
I went to Tan to let her know what was happening, and imagine my surprise that Loretta was back, along with a new girl I didn’t recognize. I stood to the side and waited for them to finish chatting before I walked back to Tan and told her what happened. After her scolding me (without waiting to hear that I had been smart about it), I was about ready to walk away and wash my hands of them completely. But they offered to show me another track, and I was an idiot and took the offer.
All the talk of second bests and such though have me firm. I will not join their group. I put up with the other girls at Queenswood constantly shoving me down as far as my times and scores were concerned, I don’t have to put up with it here.
During all this running over the hills, I noticed the smell of wood burning and decided to seek it out since no one else appeared to be in a panic about it. It was actually the local blacksmith, who was far more old fashioned about his work than the farrier who visited the school’s horses. But Evening liked him a lot more than Snow liked hers, as obvious by the way he shoved his nose into the man’s hands, demanding attention.
The blacksmith’s name was Conrad, and he was in a bit of a pickle. Apparently in their haste to find Loretta, some of the Bobcat Girls ran his assistant off the road and got his tools lost. Someone else was searching for them, but he’d forgotten to tell her about a few of the items. Evening had turned his head in the direction of the road before I could accept or decline, so it seemed the decision was made for me. They weren’t too difficult to find anyway. I returned them, and realized that not only was the sun barely over the horizon, but my eyes were trying to cross. Definitely time to find my room again.
Evening, the pain in the arse, was still practically skipping back to his stall.
Jenna, the stable girl who ran the cavaletti track, pointed me in the direction of my room. Apparently, it was called the Mountain Song room for the sake of mail and such. I didn’t hardly care at that point, I was just eager to unpack my trunk and fall into bed.
Imagine my surprise to find a second set of furniture and another girl there, getting ready for bed. I’m used to having a single room, but that mustn’t have been an option here. I hovered awkwardly in the door, managing to take off my hat at the very least, while my new roommate finished brushing her teeth.
She introduced herself as Savannah Nightberg, preferring the nickname Savvy. And that last name explains the name of the room! Someone at least must think themselves rather clever. She’s an American, which I don’t know how I feel about that, and seems to have a passion for the punk aesthetic, if her teddy bear and appearance are anything to judge by. She seems rather…feisty, though. My complete opposite. I hope we don’t wear on each others’ nerves too badly.
My trunk had been placed under my loft bed, next to the set of shelves there. I didn’t pay much attention to it other than to grab a nightgown, my robe and slippers, and my toiletries, and ducked into the now-free bathroom for a much needed shower. By the time I came back out, Savvy was already asleep. Her day must have been as exciting as mine.
The contents of my trunk were…concerning. More than concerning. Sheets and a quilt, towels, basic necessities. But none of my clothes. A pamphlet inside explained I have to earn anything beyond the provided clothes (which explained Justin’s gift). Honestly, am I being punished for something? I am far better about my spending than Mummy is! But if those are the rules…
Reluctantly, I hung up the jacket Justin gave me and my uniform jacket in the wardrobe I expected I needed to share with Savvy (though she hadn’t used it yet). I found a canvas bag to use for dirty laundry, and started making my bed. And then I found the next bit of clothes.
Oh. My. Lord.
Orange, the camp t-shirt is orange. It clashes horrendously with my hair! I could live perhaps with the rest, if forced, but the shirt. Oh, new clothes are going to have to become a priority. I shoved them into the dresser or on the shelves and finished making the bed. My pink sheets with their aqua trim contrasted quite sharply with Savvy’s black, as did the pastel aqua, pink, and white plaid of the quilt with the white band lace trim.With Zizzy in arms, I barely remembered to turn off the lights before crawling under the covers to write this entry. Hopefully tomorrow is a bit more like actual…camp.
Money: 4000 SC, 437 JS
Have a question for Misty about her experiences at Moorland or before? Ask her over at Ask Mountain Song over on tumblr.