One in particular was Poppy, an eighteen year old Senior. She had chosen this of all days to dress for the gym, not the woods. She had on skin-tight bike shorts and one of those athletic tops we are all supposed to pretend isn't just a bra. Her outfit distinctly highlighted a figure, which while it had not fleshed out yet like Wendy's had, was well on its way.
Most of our campers make their creations by hand-molding them, or constructing them out of slabs of hand cut clay. We do have a few potter's wheels that the more ambitious can use. Poppy took that morning to get on one of the wheels. She wasn't that good, and asked for my help. I had to go over and stand above her, looking straight down into the open top of that sports bra. After five minutes of struggle with her, the clay flopping
