Riptide (a camren fic)

Chapter One: one pill two pill red pill blue pill

"Low key I don't know how you do that," a voice says behind her. Camila spits out her toothpaste and whips around.

Dinah Jane Hansen, stands before her, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom entrance. Her arms are crossed and a little smirk plays at her lips, as she watches Camila. It's as if the atmosphere decides to mirror her best friend's smile. Camila's headache is a little more tolerable, and the thought of the day is a little more bearable.

"Do what?" Camila asks.

Dinah's smirk deepens. "Do that whole, pill popping thing without water. Hardcore, Walz."

Camila turns around and runs her toothbrush underneath the faucet. She can feel Dinah's amused gaze. If the mirror cabinet were closed, Camila's sure Dinah's reflection would reveal exactly that. But she doesn't close it.

"That can totally come off as offensive, Dinah," Camila rolls her eyes.

"Lighten up, I was kidding," Dinah laughs. "Why so serious?"

Camila turns back around and gives her a glare.

It's as if a lightbulb goes off in her friend's head, because in the next second Dinah's expression forms recognition.

"Ohhhhh today's the day, huh?"

"Like you really forgot it was your birthday. Don't even play dumb," Camila murmurs dubiously. She quickly puts her toothbrush back and heads back into her room. Her eyes fall to the closet, taking in the neat and organized way her clothes hang. A color coded, organized catastrophe that was a result of her mother's doing. She was just trying to help, Camila tries to rationalize. It doesn't mean it's any less annoying.

"Hey, I don't need that attitude, you want me to give you the poly beat down...because I will," Dinah warns. Camila ignores her, eyes roaming across the neglected articles of clothing. It's been a while since she's actively looked for an outfit. "Besides, hello, it's my birthday. I should be the one bossing you around what the hell. And now that I mention it, you're late - to my party."

That part is true. Camila is late and not even in the fashionable sense. The party started about an hour ago. She's sure if her mother hadn't come into her room and reminded her about the party, she'd still be in bed dreading the start of a new day. Well half a day, considering it was well past one in the afternoon

(But isn't that what unmotivated teenagers are supposed to do during summer vacation?)

And yet here she is contemplating a 'going out' outfit, something she's felt she hasn't done in eighty-four years (though it's probably only been about a few months).

"Go for the flannel," Dinah chimes in, coming to stand beside her. "I'm getting those hella crazy Sapphic vibes from you today."

Camila grimaces. "You know if I got a quarter for everything offensive you say I'd be-"

"-dead ass poor. Okay come on, just wear the plaid. We both know you were eyeing it anyway."

Camila makes a few incoherent mumbles under her breath, but ultimately reaches for the top.

.

.

She doesn't take very long to get ready, spending a few minutes trying to hide the dark rings beneath her eyes (and trying to block out Dinah's criticizing of her poor blending skills). When Camila makes it down the hallway and into the kitchen, she finds her mother at the sink and her younger sister Sofi at the kitchen table eating a sandwich. They both look at her as she stands by the doorway. And it's probably the first thing that immediately strikes her as she nervously leans against the doorway.