by Anne Eliot
Patrick: I love her. Love. And why were you wearing Cam’s jacket? The name CAMPBELL looked huge on your scrawny back. It was like a flashing sign. Anything I should know?
I reach my hand over my shoulders to feel the screen printed name and my cheeks go fire-hot.
Me: NO. He lent it to me so no one would see the outfit your crazy Laura London made me wear. Under this jacket hides butterfly wings and flying pixies covered in glitter. It’s over-the-top. And yes, she’s very cute.
Patrick: Pixies. Confirmed. So extra cute. Introduce me. Today. Now. Girl roared like a tiger out here and somehow convinced that Campbell dude to do the same. You’ve got no idea what that did to my heart.
I swallow a laugh, imagining Laura and Cam roaring in the hallway, feeling slightly sad that I didn’t get to see it.
Patrick’s going on: Should I come in there now before another guy makes his move? That girl is going to be snapped up by someone before the end of the day, and I want it to be me!
Me: Don’t you dare, freak. I think she’s got a boyfriend back home.
Patrick: I don’t care about any boyfriend. I’m going to be her new boyfriend.
Me: Shut. Up. You’re everyone’s boyfriend until you’re NOT.
Patrick: I’m sure you can see that she’s different.
I shake my head at his last text and answer: But you’re still the same. Insta-love never works, you know that.
Patrick: Offended. I’m completely changed as of this moment and because of this girl.
Frustrated, I refuse to answer. When Patrick’s like this, he can go on forever. The guy falls in love with a new girl at least once a week, sometimes once a day. Each girl is always ‘different’ and Patrick is always instantly changed—blah. I turn the phone over so Patrick’s next wave of texts can’t draw me in to his drama, and hook up my USB cable, clicking ‘yes’ to download my newest shots. Thanks to this morning, I’ll have some amazing stuff to work on today.
I turn to eye the door, watching as Cam and Laura enter as the final bell rings in the hall. Laura’s whispering furiously at Cam who looks preoccupied until his gaze lands on…me and smiles.
*Music plays, everything goes into slow motion. Cam Campbell spots me staring back and waves, making his way over as though he means to sit right next to me. The whole time he’s smiling like he’s somehow extra happy about all of this.*
I suck in a huge breath when I realize I’ve been holding it for too long.
*Asks herself if this is really happening? Asks WHAT is happening?*
I glance around, slightly startled that no one else has paused in the room but me. This is no imaginary moment, here. Cam’s still smiling at me. Still heading in my direction. Still acting all relaxed and happy like he and the glitter-skipping girl next to him are meant to be coming at me like this!
*Debut actress and first time nominee, Ellen Foster, is up for the Best Actress award for her short-film titled: Pretending to Breathe Steadily as Cam Campbell Sits.*
Cam pulls out the seat next to me.
*Breathes steadily. Breathes steadily.*
He sits.
*Breathes steadily a bit more.*
He hangs his backpack on the chair behind him, leans into it and grins over at me! “Success! Laura London has been safely secured and is officially under watch by the two of us.”
*Breathes even more steadily. Ignores the way he said the word ‘us’, ignores his interesting eye crinkles, refuses to note the soft twist of his smiling lips, holds breath against the caramel air that’s swirling around, and does not acknowledge the way it feels like his eyes are painting me with gentle gray fog. Breathes steadily one last time.*
I nod. “Good.”
*And, the award goes to Miss Ellen Foster! The crowd roars to its feet. Applause. Applause.*
Laura pulls out her chair and slumps into it on the other side of me, dropping her book bag on the floor. “Trendsetting as a tiger is some hard work, yeah?” She yanks off her tiger beanie and plops it on the table.
Cam does the same. “Yes. Until the next bell. I’ll get another one for Ellen while on a fake bathroom break so we can exit the room unified and bonded as the power of three.”
“Brilliant!” Laura grins. “But we’ve got to practice Cam’s roar first.”
“What? No. No thanks.” I shake my head and push the beanie as far away as possible.
“It’s going to be so great!” Laura smiles as though she and Cam are somehow planning on being best friends forever after whatever tiger thing happened in the hallway. Stranger yet, I think I’m supposed to be included in the idea?
*Sneaks on to the school’s restricted Internet. Opens Google Maps. Check if my location dot is still blinking here on PLANET EARTH.*
Like I’m not about to have a nervous breakdown, I add all new photos to my work folder, swallowing the butterflies rushing up from my flipping stomach. “Uh…didn’t I make it pretty clear I didn’t want a beanie? To be clearer, the thought of touching anything with our yellow and black school colors, or any sort of glued on, plastic wiggling eyeballs actually hurts me from the inside out. It’s why I threw that other beanie at Cam like I did. Because it was burning my hand!”
“Well, just you wait.” He grins. “Wearing one of these hats does one better than burning you. It actually rubs off your skin.” Cam points to the red, irritated line the beanie has added to his forehead. “Ireland should agree, the pain is part of our new, fated-friendship. She wants us all to have one. I cannot deny this girl even one request on her first day. Can you?”
“Cam thinks me, wearing it at the same time as him, will be my key to fitting in.”
“You do?” I grimace.
“I do?” he says at the same time. Then, “I mean. I guess, yeah. I do.”
Laura beams wider. “I imagine we shall be suddenly popular?”
“It’s a huge possibility.” Cam raises his brows. “Laura London, you will take this school by storm.”
“Is she serious—you two cannot be serious. And if you are, I want nothing to do with either of you.” I pull a face. “Popular is the human condition I most strive to avoid. Thanks but no.”
“Prejudice. From Ellen Foster. Who knew?” Cam easily tilts his chair back into a rocking motion, something that makes me stare at his muscled thighs.
I swallow and mumble out an answer. “I’m not prejudiced. I just avoid—I mean—I don’t want to be—wearing—hats with people who are popular. And there’s no way a tiger beanie’s going to bring anyone any sort of popularity and so…you both sound crazy, that’s all.”
Laura laughs, as does Cam. They launch into the wheres, hows, and whys of just how the tiger beanie can and will work to get high ratings, but I’m not hearing one word of it because I’m more and more riveted by how Cam’s leaning his chair back so far, so easily…and he’s not wobbled once.
*Lies to herself that she’s staring because she’s wondering what it feels like to lean a chair back with so much grace and coordination. Refuses to think about how strong someone’s abs have to be in order to hold balance like that for so long. Absolutely ignores how amazingly ripped Cam Campbell’s thigh muscles are as they flex against his pants—like—like—every time he rocks the chair.*
“Ellen. Are you hearing anything we’ve just said?” Cam waves his hand in front of my face. “I think Laura should be some sort of honorary mascot. At least…go to all the games?”
“Luckily, that’s got nothing to do with me,” I mutter, trying to figure out what part of the conversation I just missed by ogling Cam’s legs like a creeper!
He tips his chair so far back I’m sure he’s going to fall, and then rocks it back, effortlessly.
*…wow…*
I catch the last of what Laura’s blabbing on about.
&nbs
p; “—because you’re my best friend here! Best girl friend, that is.” Laura nods so much her curls rain tiny glitter bits all over the desk so I snatch my keyboard away from her. “We are quite possibly Cam’s only true friends at this entire school, so we’ve got to stick together, right?”
“What?” I choke out. “Just…what?”
“I’ve been saying that to Laura all afternoon. She’s so impossible to understand.” Cam laughs, so low and deep I get a line of goose bumps down the back of my neck. “I’m sure I’ve got other friends besides you two.” He scrunches up his face, meets my gaze and then winks. “Somewhere.”
My head—my mind—all of me fries—is he calling me his friend, or does that wink mean we are not friends? And, either way, sweet-baby-ducks, he winked one of those eyes!
*Auto replay. Winks. Winks. Winks. Winks. WINKS!*
“I said true friends. Are they true hearted like we are?” Laura’s arguing away. “How could you know what it means to have the likes of me on your side? Let alone Ellen? You’ve never met me before, but I’m telling you fate just dropped gold into your pockets! There’s none truer once you’ve got my heart, and you’ve got mine whether you like it or not. So there are your facts!”
Cam laughs, shaking his head. “Ahh, I see your point.” I can tell he’s lying. “Ellen, do you see her point? I sure hope so.”
I look between them.
He nods, brows up high. Laura nods and crosses her arms.
I grit my teeth. It’s all I can do to hold my face completely neutral because I want to scream. “Are you two on drugs right now? Is that what’s going on?”
They both laugh as though I’m hilarious and they get my joke—only there’s no joke!
I’m serious.
Why is Camden Campbell supporting any and all ideas coming from this new girl like she makes perfect sense? He’s acting as though her idea that the three of us are going to be life-long, hang-out-all-the-time kind of friends is reasonable. I don’t blame Laura. She’s brand new so maybe she should assume some stuff, but Cam? He knows better. In this town, all lines in the sand between social groups were drawn long ago. He and I are from opposing stratospheres. He also knows he doesn’t talk to me this much.
At all. Ever.
And he doesn’t seek out foreign girls, or sit by me and he doesn’t lend me jackets or roar in the hallways. So…what planet did I land on today?
Laura knocks me on the arm, but she’s done it so hard I have to grip the table to avoid falling out of my chair.
“Oi. Sorry, Ellen. I forgot you’re extra-tippy thanks to the handicap thing you’ve got. You seem so—normal—but I’ll remember, okay?” Her face is so stricken and completely apologetic I can’t even be annoyed with her for a second.
“Please call what I have Cerebral Palsy or hemiparesis, not a thing, okay?” I whisper back. If this girl and I are going to be any sort of friends, she can’t call what I have a thing.
I’d say more, but Cam’s righted his chair with a loud thump so now everyone’s turned to look at the three of us. His eyes have grown unreadable, and he’s gripping the front of his desk as hard as I am. This has me wondering if he was trying to catch me from falling, or if he was considering running out of this room just like I am. I vote the second.
“What’s the teacher’s name?” Laura’s scanning her registration papers, oblivious to all things around her as usual.
I answer quietly, “Miss Brown. You’ll have to go sign in with her. See how, and if, you can get caught up on projects or if she’ll let you slide.”
“All right, but then we shall get back to our tiger-bonding session.” She grins at Cam. “Gotta get Ellen her wee-little hat, yeah? Grrrr…Grrrrrr! Tigers!”
**
I say nothing as she hops up, still smiling with her registration papers in hand to go speak with Miss Brown. Cam also says nothing. Because…obviously, after what we’ve been through today, there’s not much left to say, and I’m sure as heck not going to growl!
I study him through the side of my hair and wonder if I’ve fallen through one of those sci-fi portals—like a star gate—or a Tardis. This has to be what it’s like to hit another layer in time, where you are you—but you aren’t you at all. Instead you are the cloned/dream version of you living in another world!
I also finally understand Alice in Wonderland on a new level. Falling through a rabbit hole where you’re stuck floating in space for a long time as strange things whizz by is just how I feel right now. I also can’t see where I’m going to land. If Miss Brown turned into a smiling cat with a hookah, or a talking rabbit appeared in this room, I wouldn’t even blink! Heck, I’d even munch some shrink-me cake if it would get me out of here.
Cam clears his throat and points to Laura as she skips around Miss Brown’s desk. “Maybe we should trust her and all of that fate drivel. What do you think? Could be…fun? The three of us hanging out some? At least until she’s settled in,” he suggests quietly.
“Maybe…” I reply in a voice quieter than his, entertaining what his words might feel and look like in my head: *Ellen Foster, Cam Campbell and Laura London line up for team-building trust falls. Ellen’s up first with Cam. He doesn’t drop her once, and it’s so fun! They both catch Laura no problem. Then Cam takes his turn. Ellen holds out her arms to catch him. But he’s falling too fast. His huge muscled torso and rippling biceps make him too heavy for Ellen’s skinny arms. Suddenly coffee scented, caramel infused six-pack abs are all over the place. All over Ellen. Ellen’s bad arm and leg give out. Laura’s save comes too late. They all tumble down and Ellen’s pinned flat on her back under Cam’s chest—and—and—Ellen wonders exactly what it would feel like to be pinned under Cam’s chest…*
I shudder and shove my hands into my pockets—Cam’s jacket pockets—trying to dislodge my unstoppable imagination stream by feeling around, trying to decipher what Cam’s got in his pockets. My fingers are immediately filled with tightly wrapped, square lumps. I’m dying to take one out because I think this is the source of the—his—yummy smell!
I wonder if I can I sneak one out. Try one with him staring me down? Ha…No.
When the silence stretches way too long between us, I pull my hands away from the candy and tug at the zipper by my neck. “Do you want your jacket back? I can ask to go to my locker and look for something to hide this outfit.”
His gaze travels over me and his eye color switches from bright to this sexy impenetrable dark granite color I’ve never seen before. Suddenly I can’t even remember what I’ve asked him. My hand closes involuntarily over my iPhone.
*Ellen Foster activates the camera on her iPhone and goes insane snapping hundreds of close up photos of Cam’s eyes.*
“No. Keep it. It looks perfect on you.” He blinks and I swear the eye color changes again! How does he do that?
He’s going on, “I mean…you know…keep it for the day or for as long as you need, because I don’t. Need it.”
I’ve actually taken out the USB cable and I’m about to muster the courage to ask him about photographing his eyes. I have to. I’m an artist, and I might never have this chance again. I’m obsessed with color and color balances and light and his eyes are all that. I’ll just explain that to him. He will have to understand.
*Slaps face. Hard.*
I let go of my phone and force myself to look away from his face and focus on what he’s saying, because he’s been talking this whole time.
“And…my jacket might work better. Because anything you have is probably really—small—like you. If you even have…uh…you know…extra tiny track jackets hanging around? That is. Do you?”
When I still can’t answer, he arranges and re-arranges his keyboard and mouse like five times. He suddenly seems so awkward I’m thrown off guard. Cam Campbell isn’t awkward. Is he? It’s my f
ault. I should have said something long ago. I play it off with a little eye roll. “Did you call me small?”
“Smaller than me, that’s all.”
“Isn’t everyone?”
“Oh. Yeah. Almost everyone.” He laughs and looks relieved that I finally said something. “Besides your friend, Patrick, that is. I think he’s the only one who might be a bit taller.”
“How do you know he’s my friend?” I blink, watching as more redness creeps up the side of his neck. He’s now messing with the underside of his keyboard as though checking the serial numbers is the most important thing in the world.
“Oh. I don’t know. He’s on our team. He talks about you some.”
“So you two talked about me—like in a guys’ locker room? Strange.” I’ve used my best teasing tone, but I feel my brows shooting up a little too high. I wonder if he’s caught on that I’m sort of flipping out right now.
“No. No! Well, maybe yes. He’s mentioned you in the locker room and out of it.” He laughs when I laugh. “And you two are always hanging, and so, I noticed. That’s all. He’s a really good defender, a natural. Our coach—all of us—are excited to have him. Pretty rare to get a player who’s so good but didn’t have years and years of training like most of us have.”
I force my brows back down and pull in a long breath, grateful to have a new topic. “He was really happy to be asked to be on your team, you know?”
Cam grimaces. “Not my team. Not even close. It’s Coach’s and my dad’s team. I just work for them.”
“Patrick and I don’t hang out that much anymore because the practices keep him really busy. I still haven’t seen one of his games because I’ve got to—” I look away and then back. “I’ve got stuff on Fridays and Saturdays. Every day, actually. Physical therapy. I never miss it. I can’t.”
