That week back at camp progressed far too quickly, and, to Penny's credit, she found so many different and creative ways to get me into a dress without making it obvious what she was doing. In her role organising activities, she had me assigned as the now legendary Girls' side Head Counsellor for a skit, join the girls team for tug-of-war to even the sides with the caveat that I had to look the part, and made me raise the flag in a cocktail dress as a 'forfeit' for sleeping through breakfast.
All roads, as they had during my eleven summers at Ihduhapi, led to 'Play'. Traditionally, 'Play' was a musical production that always took part on the last night of camp to close Color War. The two teams would face off across the gym and produce competing musical productions with singing and dancing in full costume to win the final available points from the judges. At our reunion, we hadn't gone as far as having a Color War, but we would be doing 'Play' and, as with everything else that week, Penny was running the show, casting me in the titular role of Mary Poppins.
I should make it clear – I don't blame Penny for doing this. Everything I had done up to that point had suggested I would love nothing more than to sing and dance the last evening of the reunion away with petticoats and an umbrella, but the idea left me feeling empty. I had taken part in two pageants, yet it was never above making an exhibition of myself. In fact, being on stage had been my least favorite part of the experience. It was about how it made me see myself, not how it allowed others to see me that I enjoyed. I didn't want to perform in a musical any more than I wanted to do the talent round of Miss Ihduhapi. And so, I told Penny I didn't want to take part and left the gym to sulk by myself while a clear offended Penny attempted to direct two dozen half-drunk adults around a rendition of 'Let's Go Fly a Kite'.
“You would have made a terrible Mary Poppins.” A voice called out to me as I tried to hold back tears. I saw that it was Jonathan and I shivered nervously. We were alone in the bunk and he was the last person I wanted to console me. “She was practically perfect in every way.” He raised an eyebrow. “You on the other hand, haven't even had your makeup done...” Wordlessly, he walked over to his cubby and removed a small steel case. “Let's fix that, shall we?” He said as he flicked over the clasps.
As Jonathan worked his magic on my face with a flurry or powders and brushes, he told me about his life as a makeup artist at a theater on Broadway. I know it's easy to stereotype, and I never asked, but as a male makeup artist, I supposed he had done his own fair share of hiding his true self over the years. I thought back to my memories of those summers of him as the sullen sarcastic lifeguard and realised we probably had a lot in common.
“You don't always have to be the belle of the ball,” Jonathan told me as clipped on some costume jewellery. “You don't have to be the main attraction.” He flipped over the lid of the case so I could see myself in its mirror. “But the true version of yourself will always be the hottest one.” My mouth dropped open at the sight of myself and Jonathan smirked at my reaction. “Simply scrumptious...” He mused.
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