"Mom?" Camila asks, walking into the kitchen.
"Camila?" her mom responds, turning to her with an expression of mild surprise.
"I have something to tell you," she says, cautiously taking her hand and leading her to sit at the kitchen table.
"What is it?" she asks.
"I..." am in love with the girl you think is imaginary what do I do, "...uh." Camila scratches the back of her neck. "Um."
"Yes?" her mom says.
"What's for dinner?" comes tumbling out.
Her mother blinks in surprise. "Spaghetti and meatballs," she says. "Why? Do you want to eat with us?"
And for some unknown reason, Camila nods.
----
"So, let me get this straight:" Lauren begins, "you tried to eat the spaghetti with a spoon, called your brother a periwinkle dust mop when he tried to give you a fork, listened to your sister talk about her basketball tournament, fell off your chair when your other brother kicked you under the table, watched your dad drink a nonalcoholic beer, listened to your mom talk about your sister's basketball tournament, and burst into tears when the brother who kicked you asked why you don't go to school."
"That just about sums it up," Camila says, nodding.
Lauren raises an eyebrow at her. "And why did you even go to dinner?"
Camila blushes. "It was sort of an accident."
Lauren raises the other eyebrow. "How do you accidentally wind up eating dinner with your family?"
"I- ah..." Camila runs a hand through her hair. "Well, I was going to ask my mom something, but, uh, I ended up asking her what was for dinner."
Lauren's raised eyebrows lift even higher. "What were you going to ask her?"
Camila feels her face flush even darker. "Nothing," she says a little too quickly.
Lauren's eyebrows rise so high that they almost disappear into her black hair. Before Camila can stop herself, she's reaching out and pushing Lauren's eyebrows down herself.
They stare at each other for a moment before they both burst out laughing.
They end up with their foreheads pressed together and fingers intertwined, and they're both still giggling as Camila looks down at Lauren's soft, C major lips. It would be so easy just to...
"Camila?"
Camila snaps out of it, looking back up into Lauren's emerald eyes. Their foreheads are still pressed together.
"Can I, um..." Before Camila can think about it, she's shifting herself oh-so-slightly for their lips to touch. It's brief, but Camila can still feel those perfect, C major lips unresponsive on hers when she pulls back.
"Oh," Lauren says, looking startled.
"Oh," Camila echoes, standing up. "Oh, oh man, I'm so sorry, I- I'll..." She practically slides down the ladder.
"No, wait, Camila-" Lauren calls, but Camila doesn't look back.
----
"You seem gloomy today," Camila's mom comments as Camila pours milk into a bowl of cereal.
Camila shrugs. "I'm all right."
She frowns. "You haven't gone outside at all today."
Camila shrugs again. "Not in the mood."
