Casey feared she had made a major mistake with her vow. She should start saving now to pay for pizza for five.
What made her decide she would get a date for the end-of-camp dance when she had landed a job at an all-girls camp? The closest male was on the other side of the lake, and there were nearly one hundred man-hungry girls who actually practiced their walk and their talk and their laughter, on the beach below her lifeguard chair, standing between her and any guy over the age of twenty.
Better to stay in her lifeguard chair -- once she was able to actually climb up into it. Because of course, with all this rain, nobody wanted to go anywhere near the beach, forget about getting into the water.
Casey missed her chair. Rising above the too-perfect bodies of girls who had probably had their first plastic surgery, liposuction, and tube of mascara in fourth grade, she felt separated and safely invisible. There was no one to look at her uniform of tan shorts and taxicab yellow tee-shirt.That perch gave Casey a perfect view across the lake and over the narrow strip of land that protruded out into the water. She had a clear view of the activities on the beach of the boys' camp on the opposite shore. The boys came to play soccer, while the girls came to work on their tans and stay out of their rich parents' way. Saturdays, the two camps took turns hosting dances. Casey needed to figure out some way to communicate across that distance, establish a relationship with just smiles and shrugs, with her counterpart in the lifeguard chair on the other side of the lake. So that he would recognize her and ask her to dance, and ignore the rich, fashionable, glittery high school and college-age girls filling the dance hall.