"Jeni, you bitch! I *hate* you!" Grace bounced up off the chaise and into the shade provided by the cabana, but the damage was already done. Judging by the position of the sun, she'd dozed long enough it might not have mattered anyway, but *somebody* had folded the umbrella between the lounge chairs.
The "somebody" in question rolled onto her side and looked up at Grace. "Chill out, girl," Jeni suggested. "It's not like a little tan is going to kill you or anything." It was obvious she was trying not to laugh. The brunette adjusted the strap of her racerback swimsuit and rolled over again, determined not to waste a minute of their break.
"Easy for you to say," muttered Grace. Jeni obviously had a lot of Mediterranean ancestry, with dark hair cut short for convenience and an olive-toned complexion that never seemed to change, no matter how long she stayed out. It was annoying.
Grace's ancestors hailed from more northern climes. She was blessed with gorgeous auburn hair that she wouldn't have traded for anything, but her skin tanned easily. Not burned, thankfully, but tanned - a golden brown, as the cookbooks put it.
"I don't understand why you have a problem, anyway," offered Jeni, not quite missing the point. "You look so hot, and you know it!"
"Oh, but in my workout clothes," Grace sighed, already visualizing the damage. She always had problems with so-called farmer's tans, where the unsightly change of color at hems and sleeves ruined whatever effect the tan might have produced. "I'll look like a freak!"
Jeni gave up on pretending not to be amused and laughed. "Oh come on, Grace. You are not a freak. I bet nobody will even notice. Besides, this is swim camp, not Fashion Week."
Grudgingly, Grace admitted to herself the brunette probably had a point. The Parker Training Academy, misnamed as it was, had nothing to do with fashion and everything to do with fitness. It was the second summer she'd attended, and Grace was as enthusiastic about it as she'd been doubtful the previous year.
Parker College wasn't a very exciting or visible institution. Located away from any major cities or interesting attractions, it had managed to avoid "Commuity" in its name, while attracting students who couldn't afford to travel out of the area and attend more prestigious schools.
Grace was determined to leave waitressing and farming behind her, and the relatively low tuition rates made the student loans a gamble worth taking. So far, things were working out, better than she'd hoped.
Swimming hadn't been on her radar, but it turned out that the Parker swim team was a big fish in a small pond. They were small in number, few enough to welcome walk-ons (including an intrigued Grace), but ferocious competitors. Nobody deluded themselves into thinking they were Olympic-caliber athletes, but the coaches had an amazing talent for getting every last bit of native ability out of their swimmers and divers.
In large part, apparently, the secret was the Parker Training Academy, colloquially known as "swim camp." It looked like just another rustic summer camp stuck in the middle of nowhere, but it boasted an Olympic size pool and diving platforms. For a month each summer the coaches, swim team, and other attendees secluded themselves there and worked like dogs.
Grace had been sure she was going to die the first summer. The days were long, and filled entirely with swimming and conditioning work (as if hours of swimming by itself somehow wouldn't be enough). The absence of any local cell towers virtually eliminated electronic distractions. Coach Rod and his assistants had a rotating series of visiting coaches lined up to provide diverse points of view and constructive assistance, and Grace was sure - she'd counted - there were more coaches than swimmers.
Not only had she survived, that month had transformed Grace into one of the better swimmers on the team. She'd won several events in subsequent meets, but mostly it was her improved physical fitness that impressed Grace. She felt it when she bounced out of bed, felt it when she still had energy at the end of the day, and felt it when men's eyes followed her across campus.
So Grace had kept swimming, even in the frozen depths of winter, and her name had been first on Coach Rod's signup list that spring. Armed with an idea of what to expect and better conditioning, it had been a joy and Grace wasn't looking forward to going back to school.
The best part was that it didn't even cost anything, since she was on the swim team. How Parker College could afford to put on the camp was an open question, although there were rumors that other attendees paid enough to more than offset the costs. The once Grace had raised the subject with Jeni - one of the paid swimmers - there'd been some vague mention of a sponsorship or scholarship or something, and they'd let the subject drop.
Now it was nearly the end of summer, and Grace would have to spend the next few weeks looking like a zebra or something. The camp didn't spend a lot on uniforms, and the white T-shirts and navy shorts ran slightly on the large side, meaning there was no way the tan lines on Grace's arms and thighs wouldn't show in anything she wore.
"Well, come on," Grace snapped, trying to fight off her sulk. "I don't want to do extra push-ups if we're late, and you still have to change." She'd changed before lunch, but Jeni had put off switching out of her suit so she could catch some rays.
The two women left the relatively secluded side of the cabana and walked towards the oversized "log cabin" that housed the locker rooms and workout equipment. They were surrounded by the bustle of the others also headed to their afternoon training sessions; there were the familiar faces of the other students, coaches with the same utilitarian outfits but the largely-symbolic heavy whistles on lanyards, and the current rotation of visiting guest coaches.
Grace had given up trying to understand where Coach Rod found the guest trainers. Most of them didn't look like coaches, even if they wore the same shorts and T-shirts, and many of them didn't act much like coaches, either. But there was no question they were dedicated to helping the camp participants excel, and they always left Grace breathless at the end of a workout.
Jeni stopped in front of her locker and started to pull off her suit, but Grace walked to the mirror behind the sinks and stared at her reflection. She looked good, hair pulled up in a casual bun, her arms and legs tanned and toned. Cautiously, Grace tugged at a sleeve, looking to see how abrupt the transition from tanned to pale skin was. Her arm remained the same golden tan.
Perhaps her sleeve had been shoved further up than she remembered? The redhead pulled up one leg of her shorts, revealing an expanse of evenly tanned thigh. It was ridiculous! She was clearly darker than yesterday, and Grace knew that even she didn't tan through clothing!
As if her frustration had been a trigger, Grace felt suddenly lightheaded and her vision swam momentarily. Even as she blinked rapidly, her clothing shimmered and faded away like a desert mirage. Grace gulped at the sight of herself standing totally naked and evenly bronzed from head to toe!
