Camila stood in front of the full-length mirror that hung on the inside of her closet door, turning from side to side and taking in her appearance. She pursed her lips as her eyes ran over the dark, tight fitting jeans, t-shirt, and chucks. With a sigh, she pulled her black hoodie off a hanger and slipped her arms through the sleeves. Her hands shook slightly as she tried to close the zipper.
The sun shone dully through the sheer curtains, bathing the room in a soft purple glow. Her clock read seven-thirty in the morning and she knew it was almost time to go. Closing her eyes, Camila took in a few deep breaths, reminding herself that it was just school. She'd been going all her life. She could handle this. But the truth was, she didn't know if she could.
After the accident, she hadn't returned to school. It had been through sheer desperation that she'd convinced Sinu to let her home-school for the remainder of the year. She just couldn't force herself to walk those halls, to endure the pitying looks and questions her classmates were bound to give her. She didn't want to be "the girl whose brother died." Or, "the girl who barely survived that awful crash." She just wanted to be Karla Camila Cabello again. Just Camila. No more stares. No more whispers. No more wordless sympathy. Just Camila. Resident geek and art freak.
How she wished she could return to those days of endless teasing over her nerd status. Even that was better than this. And she'd hated every moment of it at the time.
A soft knock sounded at her door before it opened slowly. Camila turned and caught sight of her mother standing in the doorway, twisting her hands together nervously.
Camila frowned. "Mama, what's wrong?"
"I just got a call from the school." Sinu kept her eyes on the floor. "They're having an assembly today to welcome everyone back to school."
"Okay," Camila said, not understanding the significance behind her mother's reaction to this news. "I realize assemblies incite utter boredom, but you don't have to be there so ..."
Sinu finally met Camila's eyes. "They wanted to let me know that they'd be honoring Carlos today."
Camila swallowed. Hard.
"They asked if I'd like to come because they'll be retiring his number and hanging his jersey as a memorial."
Camila stumbled toward the bed and sat, her breathing coming more shallow than normal. Sinu made her way over and placed her hand on Camila's back.
"Are you okay?"
Camila nodded, trying to regulate her breathing. She knew sooner or later the school would do something like this. When the accident happened, the whole community had been in such shock, and had tried so hard to be sensitive to Camila and her mother, that they hadn't really done much by way of memorializing Carlos. She knew that this was an honor, that it was their way of expressing how much he'd meant to them and that they missed him too. But it didn't help Camila in any way to get past what happened. To see his jersey hanging there day after day during gym class would probably be more than she could bear.
"Are you going to come?" Camila asked in a quiet voice.
"Yes. I mean, if you're okay with it, I'd like to come."
"I'm okay with it." Camila paused and looked up, meeting her mother's eye. "How do you do it, Mama?"
"How do I do what?"
"Live with it. Keep going every day. How are you so strong?"
Sinu lifted her hand to cup Camila's cheek and let out a slow breath. "I'm not strong, Camila. There are days where I feel so broken and lost and confused that I just want to lie down in bed and never get up again. And there are days where I almost do just that. Where I almost give up and give in to the pain. But then I remember that I can't. I can't because I know that you need me. I know that I need to be there for you. And I also know that that's not what Carlos would want. He wouldn't want us to stay sad, to stop living. He was always so happy, so full of life." She paused. "I feel like it's soiling his memory to give up. So I don't."
Camila placed her hand over her mother's. "You are strong. I wish I could do it. I want to do it."
"You will, sweetheart. It'll just take time. For both of us."
Closing her eyes, Camila nodded once more. She opened them at the sound of the doorbell.
"That'd be Michael," she said as she rose from the bed and grabbed her backpack from the floor.
Sinu eyed her carefully. "Are you going to be all right?"
Camila gave her a small smile that she knew came off looking forced. "I have to be."
_________________________________________________
Dust. Some kind of overcooked meat. Dry erase markers. Lemon scented cleanser.
The same exact smells that always permeated the halls of Michigan City High School hung thick and heavy in the air. The scents mingled together, forming a perfume all their own. Ode de education. At least that's what Carlos always used to call it.
Camila kept her head down as she meandered her way through the condensed hallway, trying her hardest to avoid the eyes burning into her. She hadn't seen many of her classmates since the accident. It was no secret that she'd withdrawn into herself and hid away in the safe confines of her room.
Other than Michael and her mother, she let no one in. No one penetrated her sanctuary. Not that she'd had many real friends to begin with. Acquaintances sure. People she talked to and liked even, but no one she would have felt comfortable enough with to talk to about the way she felt. Even Michael and her mother were oblivious to what really rumbled underneath the surface of her carefully crafted façade. She'd never let anyone see the blackness living inside her, not even in the tiniest bit. Not until recently.
"So, what's your guess?" Michael sniffed the air, his brows pinched together. "I'm saying turkey surprise. No wait—" He paused with his finger held up then shook his head and waved his hand in the air. "Never mind, I'm sticking with turkey surprise."
Camila glanced at the paper she held in her hands once more before making her way over to locker number forty-five. "I don't know, Michael. It always smells the same to me."
Michael leaned against the locker next to Camila's, crossed his arms over his chest, and rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. You're telling me you think Mexican pizza smells the same as chicken and dumplings?"
"In this place?" She pulled a notebook and pen out of her bag, before shoving it into the cramped space along with her jacket. "Yes. I don't even think it's real food." She slammed the door shut and rested against it. "Which is why I always bring my own lunch."
Michael started to reply just as Lauren bound up to them. "Hey guys!" She slung her bag over one shoulder, careful not to trap her long black hair underneath.
"Hey," Camila said with a smile, noticing Shawn behind Lauren. He didn't glance up as he passed.
Camila frowned as she followed him with her eyes. He hadn't spoken to her since the day at the park over a week ago. Granted she'd been busy helping her mother with a few new classes she'd added to the store's schedule, and he'd had practice nearly every day. But even when she had seen him, he'd made no effort to talk to her. Of course, she had been with Lauren every time she'd been within ten feet of him. That was the deal they'd made and she understood that. Even so, a part of her missed their conversations. Missed how, for whatever reason, she felt better when she was around him.
At least he'd stuck to his word that she could listen to him play at night. Every evening she slid her window open and waited for him. He never disappointed, opening his and letting the music close the distance between their houses. In the dark recesses of the night, she'd lay there allowing his pain to wrap around her, releasing hers at the same time. And then each day, when she went to visit Lauren, she'd slip a drawing under his door. Give and take. That's what they did, and for now, it was almost enough.
"Which homeroom do you have?" Lauren asked.
Camila dragged her gaze away from Shawn's retreating form and glanced down at her schedule. "Um, Mrs. Rockshire. Room 120."
"Me too!" Lauren said before turning to Michael. "What about you?"
"Mr. Mason. Room 145." Michael frowned. "Now, I won't be able to sit by you at the assembly."
Camila's chest clenched.
"What assembly?" Lauren pulled a licorice twist from her backpack and chewed on it innocently. Michael's eyes locked on her lips wrapped around the Twizzler.
Camila rolled her eyes at his blatant display and turned to Lauren. "Every year we have a 'Welcome back' assembly during homeroom. It's totally boring."
"Hmm," Lauren said. "But it's a good chance to scope out the local man-fare—if you know what I mean." She winked.
Camila snorted. "Yeah, well, slim pickings."
Michael scowled.
Camila stuck her tongue out and started to move toward homeroom with Lauren.
"Mila!" She heard a male voice call out from behind her.<
Turning slowly, her eyes fell on the dark hair and eyes of her brother's best friend. "Oh hey, Zayn."
He jogged up to her, nodding in Lauren's and Michael's direction. Michael rolled his eyes and waved at Camila, letting her know he was leaving. She waved back.
Lauren raised her brow, bit her lip, and winked in Camila's direction before leaving herself. "I'll save you a seat."
Camila smiled and nodded. "Okay."
"Who's that?" Zayn asked, his eyes following Lauren down the hall.
"My new neighbor, Lauren."
Zayn turned back to her. "No joke? In the Winchister's old house?"
"Uh huh."
"So," he glanced down at the ground, shuffling his feet, "how have you been? I haven't seen you in forever."
"I'm okay. You?"
He looked up, meeting her eye. She could see the sadness glinting in them. "Same here."
Camila reached out and laid her hand on his shoulder, giving him a small smile. At that moment, Zayn's eyes flickered over her shoulder and narrowed. She turned and met Shawn's gaze. He passed them, his stare fixed on Zayn's before moving to hers momentarily and then disappearing just as quickly as he walked into the room right next to hers.
"Whoa," she said, "what's that all about?"
Zayn shook his head. "New player on the team. Total asswad."
Camila laughed and started walking toward her homeroom. "Oh come on. He's not that bad."
"You know him?"
She nodded. "He's Lauren's brother."
Zayn stopped her. "You're telling me he's your neighbor too?"
"Duh. I just said Lauren was my neighbor and he's her brother so ... "
The one minute warning bell blared over head.
Camila glanced up absently in the sound's direction. "I better go. It was nice talking to you, Zayn."
"Hey, Mila, wait."
She stopped and turned back to him.
He looked at his feet and she could have sworn she saw his cheeks grow pink. "Are you going to the Welcome Back dance on Friday?"
Camila shrugged, watching as the last of the students hurried down the hall to their perspective rooms. "Maybe. I don't know."
"You should come," he said quietly.
Her eyes met his. "Okay, maybe I will."
He smiled. "Save me a dance, okay?"
"Sure." She grinned and moved toward her homeroom once more. "See you, later."
"Bye, Mila." He stuck his hands in his pockets and slunk down the hall.
Camila made it into her classroom just as the final bell rang, and plopped down in the seat beside Lauren.
"So?" Lauren whipped around and sat side-ways in her seat. "Spill."
"Spill what?" Camila set her notebook and pen on her desk.
"What do you think? Who was the hottie?"
"What hottie?"
"Oh my God. The one you were just talking to! Tall, dark, delicious."
Camila furrowed her brow. "You mean Zayn?" She thought about him and guessed he was kinda cute. "Delicious? Really?"
Lauren's eyes widened and her jaw fell slack. "Don't tell me you've never noticed. That boy sizzles."
Camila shrugged. "He's—" She swallowed against the pain in her chest. "He was my brother's best friend."
Lauren's face fell. "Oh."
"He's nice. He plays on the soccer team too." She remembered the look he and Shawn shared. "In fact, he totally gave your brother the death glare in the hallway."
"Zayn." Lauren frowned as if she were thinking something over. "Zayn. Wait. What's his last name?"
"Malik."
"Well that explains the look."
"What do you mean?" Camila asked just as Mrs. Rockshire began roll call and explained how they would make their way to the auditorium for the assembly. As they lined up Camila nudged Lauren. "So?"
"Remember that black eye Shawn was sporting?"
Camila thought back to the day at the park when she'd examined his eye after practice. How he'd been so close and how intense his eyes looked as she'd stared into them. She shook herself out of the memory and addressed Lauren, trying to act nonchalant. "I guess."
"Well apparently, this guy, Malik, elbowed him during practice. And according to Shawn, it wasn't an accident."
"What? Why?"
Lauren shrugged. "Boys are idiots."
"Hmm," Camila said as she followed the classmate in front of her into the gym. She'd known Zayn almost as long as she'd known Michael. He'd never shown any type of violent tendencies before. Why would he hit Shawn on purpose? Knowing Shawn, he'd probably mouthed off or something equally Shawn-like. But still, Camila couldn't see Zayn doing that.
As Camila stepped into the gym, her eyes drew immediately to the temporary platform at the other side. A large projection screen and table had been set up. Three chairs sat off to one side, and occupying them were the principal, the vice-principal, and her mother. Camila swallowed hard as she and Lauren took their seats at the end of the second to bottom bleacher.
Looking around, Camila spotted Michael at the other end of the auditorium. He waved frantically, a huge grin plastered on his face. She lifted her hand back to him and turned around, locking eyes almost immediately with Shawn who sat two rows behind them, directly on the end with his leg dangling off the side. She let her gaze linger for a moment in greeting as his mouth quirked up into a barely discernable half-grin. Smiling in return, she whipped back around.
"What are you grinning at?" Lauren quirked her brow.
"Nothing." Camila bit her lip as Principal Owen stood at the pulpit.
"Welcome back, students." He cleared his throat. "Before we begin I'd like to—"
Camila blocked him out and let her gaze wander around the gym, taking in the faces of old and new students. People she'd known since she started school and ones she'd never seen before in her life. Their faces conveyed a certain carefree demeanor she wished she possessed. At one time, she was sure she had. Sure that if someone like her had been paying attention then, they would have noticed the same attributes in her. She wondered what people saw now. Did they see the devastation? The darkness? The guilt?
As her eyes shifted to the front, they fell on her mother. She sat there, looking slightly lost and nervous. In her hands, she held a bundle of white fabric which her fingers picked at anxiously. Camila squinted against the glare of the bright florescent lights overhead, trying to make out what her mother had in her lap. Finally, it dawned on her. They'll be retiring Carlos's number and hanging his jersey as a memorial. Her mother's words reiterated through her mind. The object in her mother's hand was a jersey. Carlos's jersey.
Camila let out a gasp and her chest clenched, squeezing her heart in its grasp.
"... our flourishing sports program ..." Principal Owen's voice rang out over the loud speakers, but Camila couldn't hear a word over the rushing in her ears.
Her heart sped in her chest, pounding against her ribs as her breathing shallowed. The lights dimmed and a flash of white appeared on the projector screen. Footage from last year's sports reels flashed across the background. A touchdown scored. Roaring crowd. A three point shot, all net. Cheers. A hurdle perfectly cleared. A goal scored. A flash of blond hair, dark eyes, and an insanely white smile. An arm tossed over his shoulder, his fist thrust in the air.
Camila closed her eyes against the images depicted on the stage only to be assaulted by the ones in her mind. The same bright smile directed at her. A laugh filled with so much joy rang out. The loud click of the seatbelt echoed as he leaned over her, his voice muffled. The roaring of the engine as excitement raced through her. A sudden downpour pounded on the roof and windshield. One last look. One last grin. A scream. A crunch. Blackness.
She leaned over, her breathing coming rapidly as she covered her ears with her hands, trying to block out the screams and the sound of screeching metal. The onslaught in her mind took over and covered everything outside of her. A hand touched her shoulder and a worried voice hissed in her ear. "Mila, are you all right?"
She wanted to answer, but her body trembled so hard she couldn't form the words. Her head spun due to the lack of oxygen from her frantic, shallow breaths. The pounding of her heart increased, only exasperating the breathing problem. She stumbled to her feet, clawing her way past Lauren, who grabbed her arm before she tumbled off the bleachers.
"Mila, what are you doing?"
"A—air," was all she managed to get out.
Lauren stood with her, holding onto her arm as they lowered themselves from the risers. The pain and panicked breaths got worse when she stood. Camila's legs trembled and blackness tinged the edges of her vision as nausea rose in her stomach. She dug her fingers into Lauren's arms trying to remain vertical.
"God, Mila, what's going on?" Lauren rasped in her ear.
Camila shook her head, the gasps for air making it nearly impossible to form a coherent word. "I—I—do—don't—kn—know."
"Lauren, what's wrong?" Shawn's voice sounded from behind her.
"I don't know." Lauren's grip tightened around Camila's waist. "She just started shaking and breathing weird. Then she said she needed air. I don't know what to do!"
Just then, Camila's knees buckled underneath her. Lauren just managed to catch her before she fell to the ground.
"We need to get her out of here," Shawn said.
Camila felt her body being swooped up and rushed out of the gymnasium doors. She had no idea what was going on around her, where she was going, or even who she was with at that point. All she knew was that she couldn't breathe and she really needed to breathe. Finally, she felt herself being lowered to the ground, her back against something hard and cold. Large, warm hands cupped her cheeks.
"Camila?" The hands against her face were gentle, soothing. "Camila. Listen to me. Focus on my voice. Can you do that?" Shawn asked.
She sucked in what little air she could and nodded her head, her eyes still clenched tightly.
"Okay. Good." His thumbs moved over her cheeks, tracing small circles into her skin. "Have you ever had a panic attack before?"
A panic attack? Was that was this was? She thought for sure she was having a heart attack or some other equally death-inducing episode. She shook her head.
He continued touching her: her face, her hair. Lightly, so soft that if she weren't so focused on it she may not have felt it. Her breathing slowed infinitesimally. Just like when he sang, his voice soothed her, his presence calmed her.
"Lauren's waiting by the doors. Let me get her for—"Camila's eyes popped open and she reached out, twisting her fists into his shirt. "N—no! Pl—please—don't—g—go." She leaned forward and buried her face into him.
In any other circumstance, she would never have been so forward, but at this point all acts of normalcy flew right out the window. She needed someone. He was there and whatever he was doing was working.
"Okay, Camila. If it helps, I'll stay."
She nodded against him, feeling his pulse thrumming against her cheek.
Little by little, her breathing slowed as did her heart. The aching pain in her chest lessened as she breathed him in, filled her lungs with his scent and her hands with his shirt. At first, he stilled with her closeness, but after a moment he accepted her, running his hands through her hair and resting his chin on top of her head.
Time seemed to pass slowly as she sat there, on the ground, with Shawn seated in front of her. When she finally felt calm enough to pull away, she realized that not only did she have her face pressed against the crook of his neck, but she also had her arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding him tightly against herself. With a gasp, she jerked back, but he didn't let go, and she met his gaze.
"Are you all right?" he asked quietly, his eyes studying her carefully.
Camila felt her face heat almost instantly. She wanted to speak but was afraid it would come out all shaky, so she nodded instead.
"You sure?" He ran his fingers through the hair just above her ear, his eyes never leaving hers.
She fought against a shiver and lost. "Y—yes." She stared at him for another moment, knowing her hands were still on him, and his on her, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. "How—how did you know what to do?"
Grinning his lop-sided smile, he leaned in closer and Camila's stomach did that little flippy thing again. "Don't tell anyone," he whispered, "but I'm not a stranger to them."
"Really?" Her eyes widened.
He nodded. "Not for a long time, but I remember what it's like."
"God, it was awful. I felt like I was dying."
"I know." He held her gaze, his hands still stroking her hair and hers still wrapped around his neck. "Do you—do you know what caused it?"
She shook her head and closed her eyes briefly. "I don't really know. One minute I was fine—a little worried about the assembly because my mom was there. And then," she took in a shuttering breath, "I saw my mother holding Carlos's jersey and the slide show started ... and I just lost it. All these images from the crash kept coming and I—" Her heart started pounding again and her breaths turned shallow.
"Okay, shhh." Shawn grasped her face once more. "It's all right. You don't have to say anymore. I get it."
Camila closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, concentrating on the feel of his touch against her cheek and the sound of his voice. Slowly, the panic died down and she was able to open them and focus again. When she did, she found herself gazing right into his beautiful eyes. Without thinking, she unclasped her hands from around him and ran them up his neck, until they rested on either side of his face, her thumbs grazing his cheeks as her fingers brushed lightly against the soft curls hanging just behind his ear.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"Anytime."
She sat there, thinking she should probably get up or at least remove her hands from him, but he wasn't moving and she really didn't want to either. So instead, she looked at him. Really looked. He was so—handsome. How had she never noticed before? Yeah. She knew he was attractive, a girl would have to be blind not to see that, but he was just absolutely—beautiful. All brunette and soft and hard and—Shawn. He felt so warm and alive under her fingers. She wanted to run them over his entire face, taking in the soft and rough of his skin, the coarse stubble lining his chin, and the full curve of his mouth.
She found herself wondering what it would feel like if she just leaned forward, closing the few inch gap between them, and touched her lips to his. Would they be as soft as they looked? Would they be warm or cool? Wet, or smooth and dry? All it would take was a few inches. A few short inches.
"Ahem."
Camila jumped at the sound of a voice near the doorway. Shawn dropped his hands from her and she followed suit, her eyes falling on Lauren and her mother standing in the bright hallway light. Lauren's mouth hung open and her eyes nearly popped out of her head.
"Karla Camila Cabello. What in the world are you doing?" Sinu asked, her hands crossed over her chest and her foot tapping furiously on the tile.
Camila knew she should be concerned, possibly even frightened and embarrassed that her mother had caught her in a semi-compromising looking position with a boy. At least, in her mother's eyes it was. But somehow, she couldn't find the energy to care, because the only feeling she had coursing through her at that moment, was regret. Regret that his hands no longer touched her and that hers no longer held him.