Day Two: Maybe I should keep track of the date…

Day Two: Monday, April 4th

The sound of water in the pipes woke me up this morning, diary. My roomie, Misty, was already up and doing God knows what in the shower. I rolled open, cracked open my eyes for the time and instead of seeing the clock I saw her bed, white, aqua and pink. Her pink teddy bear was perched on her pillow. I groaned, stuck my head under my pillow and mumbled, ‘why me?’ That was about the time she stuck her head out of the bathroom. I guess she thought something was wrong. I just shook my head, but peeking my head out under my pillow made me see her bed again and I couldn’t keep from making faces and groaned some more. I hope she’s a lot more interesting than her bedding suggests. She did make some sympathy noises about how early it was.

Diary, she has no idea. A couple of days ago I was on the east coast of America. I got on a plane, flew twelve to fourteen hours not including time changes over three thousand miles of ocean and then had to take a bus to the ferry, and the ferry ride was a couple more hours. Then when we actually got here, I was expected to run around on a horse for hours. Which I haven’t done in several years. Not only is it too early. I hurt.

Love the pain. Embrace the pain. Ignore the eye pain of the pink blankets and teddy bear across the room and deal with the mental anguish of the clothes they left us. Orange and beige and dirty dish mop colored gloves and, can the next few days fly by so I can get some good clothes? And beige? Beige? What a non-color? It doesn’t say anything about anyone! I debated so hard wearing my street pants but then they’d gone through the whole airplane process and were super wrinkled and with the orange t-shirt would scream Halloween. I love Halloween and all, just not when I dress. I threw my street jacket on over the t-shirt. The silver with the beige wouldn’t be that great of a statement, but it was ten times better than bright orange. Wet my hair, throw in the gel, spike it up, toss on some lipstick and mascara and I was ready to go.

Before my roommie, who had been up before me.


Heart actually pranced in place when she saw me. She came over and shoved her nose in my chest and demanded eye scratches. She’s so sweet. She kept her eye on me the entire time I put tack on her. I made soft commentary to her about the clothes and the ugly brown of her tack and she nodded along like she understood me perfectly. She grunted when I did the cinch and then when I went to get her halter, she nipped at me until I went back and tightened it to her satisfaction.

This is exactly the behavior I was talking about, diary, that made me stay away from horses.

I know this is supposed to be a camp and all, but as far as yesterday went there wasn’t any structure. I was sent out to do personal errands for the owner for God’s sake! I mean, what about riding lessons and group sports and communal eating? So, I asked what Misty was doing and she mentioned she had to help Justin with Old Man Jasper. Whoda thunk? I mean, I was a bit shocked. She’d been helping Mr. Moorland out too?

Hmm, maybe those G.E.D. men weren’t so stupid after all. I mean. They had been doing circuits. They could have easily turned the equipment back on after I turned it off.

Well, then Misty surprised me again. She asked if we could run errands together. She seemed a little nervous about it and Heart nudged my shoulder. I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for the girl. And it would be a good way to get to know my roomie better. We might be doing a lot together if we do get to do this whole camper experience. And hey, if Mr. Moorland had us both helping him yesterday separately, we’d be a lot more efficient as a team than as individuals. So I agreed.

So we mounted up and found Justin. I didn’t notice it yesterday, but he has a white streak in his black hair. Usually, a white streak in someone that young is a trauma streak or he’s going prematurely grey. I wonder which one it is. I mean, it’s not like I could ask. I just thought it was odd. We explained to him since we both had been helping him yesterday that we thought we’d team up. He actually seemed relieved and approving. And he had a plan and as far as plans go, it wasn’t that bad of a one. I just hope Mr. Moorland knew Justin had his parent’s love letters. Apparently, according to the letters, Catherine and Thomas truly loved each other. I could see Misty going squish. So, he wanted us to go give the letters to Old Man Jasper and see if that would soften his grandfather’s heart or not.

He also gave us a big bag a food and admonishing to eat at some point.

Jasper wasn’t happy to see us again. Is this poor old man ever happy? We gave him the letters. He recognized the handwriting right off the bat. He looked like he was about to choke on tears. Misty, bless her English heart, gave him a handkerchief.

We left him alone, found a spot nearby that was grassy and got down to the business of breakfast. There was a thermos of tea and one of hot cocoa and a bunch of biscuits with jam, hard boiled eggs still in the shell and cold slices of ham. All in all, it was a pleasant breakfast and Misty and I got to talk a little. She’s a year younger than I am, goes to boarding school where she’s part of a dressage, jumping club, which explained the outfit. She’s very British. I mean, Band of Skulls is one of my favorite British indie rock bands, but I doubt she’s ever heard of them. I played a song for her. She made faces, it was funny. She had heard of them. I also played some Nickelback. She made more faces. So we talked music (very British pop on Misty’s end, Ellie Goulding, the Wanted, the Virgins and Adele) and favorite colors. Turns out we are both obsessed with purple and adore aqua. We also don’t know why Mr. Moorland chose us to help him out. I noticed this morning there were at least fifty other girls running around the camp in those horrid orange t-shirts and beige pants taking care of horses. I mean, there were a lot of girls to choose from, but why choose the two of us out of all of them? We aren’t that special, are we?

We both agreed that Justin was the one who had pointed us towards Mr. Moorland in the first place. Maybe Justin had something to do with it?

Have a question you want to ask Savvy about her experiences in Moorland or before? Ask at Ask Mountain Song on tumblr.



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