Page 67 of The Dating Game

Brooke

Ouch.Irubmysore forearms. Hitting a volleyball hurts! Thankfully we’ve finished up on the courts and all of the groups are gathered in the church now, singing our closing song and doing the dance that accompanies it. The kids in our volleyball group are mostly in fifth grade and consequently think they’re a bit too cool for this whole, well, song and dance. I instructed my team of teens to set a good example, though, so thankfully they’re all singing and dancing along with the band.

I’m singing and dancing too, despite my throbbing arms, and a few of the kids in our group do seem to take encouragement from this. As we get to the second refrain I see them start to sway and at least mouth the words. The sight brings a smile to my face. I may be pretty bad at volleyball, but the group of kids we got are pretty fun.

They remind me of my dancers back home. Funny how you can be over a thousand miles from home and the kids can be so similar. Loud, desperate to grow up, and obsessed with Taylor Swift.

As they’ve been periodically doing since we walked into the room, my eyes drift over to where Will is standing with his group of soccer kids. He’s got one kid on his back and another hanging onto his leg, but he’s still somehow managing to perform the dance moves that go along with the song.

Hannah is usually the one who overindulges her imagination, but today it’s my turn. I’m fully aware that I’m getting ahead of myself, but I still can’t help but picture a future where those are our kids using him as a jungle gym.

Ahead of myself or not, it’s a picture I very much like.

The song comes to an end and Pastor Keith bounds onto the stage to wild cheers. “What a great first day! Let’s give it up for Jesus!” The cheering intensifies. “Now before we release you back to your parents, let’s recite today’s memory verse together one more time. I have hidden,” he begins, and around the room voices join in, “your word in my heart that I might not sin against you. Psalm 119:11.”

The verse feels like another reminder of my own shortcomings in that department recently. What happened to my rhythm of spending time with God every morning?

I don’t have time to dwell on this because parents have started showing up for pickup, and my team and I get busy checking kids out and making small talk with the parents. Finally the madhouse dies down, all but one last camper of ours having disappeared out the doors.

“I’m starving,” Marley declares, rubbing her stomach. I glance around the room, searching for the young girl’s parents. The campers in the other groups are all gone too, so chaperones are now taking their groups and heading to the dining area for lunch.

“Um, you guys go ahead,” I tell my girls. “I’m just going to walk Sammie here out front, see if maybe her mom or dad is out there.” The girls all nod, patting Sammie on the back or giving her hugs as they go. “You mind stepping outside with me?” I ask Sammie.

Sammie shrugs, then sighs. “Sorry, it’s my sister coming to get me. She probably forgotabout me.”

“Oh, well, no worries. If your sister isn’t out front we’ll give her a call. It’s no big deal.” I smile down at her to let her know I’m not upset or anything. “What did you think of camp today?” I ask her as we walk.

“It was really fun,” Sammie says with a smile.

“You’re really good at volleyball,” I tell her honestly. She stood out to me in the crowd with her quick reaction times and control of the direction of her passes.

“Oh thanks.” Sammie blushes pink with pleasure. “So are you,” she says, clearly out of obligation, since I am not even a little bit good at volleyball.

I laugh and tell her as much. “No need to lie to preserve my ego. I know I’m awful. Nobody can be good at everything. God gave us all different talents and gifts. He decided to pass me over when it comes to the ability to get a ball over a net.”

Sammie laughs too. “So no tennis for you either?”

“Definitely not.” I shudder, remembering a boyfriend in college trying to get me to play with him. “I did try a few times, but once I gave myself a black eye with my racket, I called it quits.” This recounting of what truly could’ve been a viral video had it been recorded makes Sammie erupt in laughter. She’s still laughing when we step out of the church a few seconds later but her laughter cuts off at the sight of the empty parking lot.

“She’s not here.” Sammie sighs, her shoulders slumping in dejection.

“Well, I guess that means we get to hang out for a little longer,” I say cheerfully, giving her a friendly nudge with my elbow.

“Don’t you have to go eat lunch?”

“Nope.” I shake my head. “I mean, sure eventually, but it can wait.”

“I’m sorry,”she says again. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Please don’t apologize. Back in Arizona I’m a dance teacher, and believe me, you are not the first kid I’ve sat with to wait for a parent or family member. These things happen, and I find that the extra time usually makes for some great conversation. For instance, during one such occurrence I discovered that one of my student’s has a deaf cousin and consequently knows sign language. She taught me how to do the alphabet in sign language.”

“I don’t have anything to teach you,” Sammie tells me, and I’m dismayed to see her lower lip quiver.

“Oh I’m certain you do,” I inform her. “You’re what, 11?” She nods. “Then you must know the secret hand clap all girls between the ages of 8 and 12 seem to intrinsically know.”

“You mean Concentration?” she asks.

“Yes!” I exclaim.

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