CALL IT EVEN | shawmila

six.

A/N: waiting for everyone to get to *that* part because I wanna see y'all's comments. so pls comment!

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Ten years ago...

Camila dragged her schedule out of her bag and unfolded the well-worn piece of paper. She glanced at the room number and turned down the hall towards what she assumed was the right way.

Her new school was a sea of loud kids pushing each other and laughing. Camila stared at them like they were crazy. She didn't know what they were so happy about. She'd only been in high school for six hours, but it was already so rough.

The past weeks had been a blur of the funeral service, packing everything she owned, and sitting in the car for hours and hours while her mother drove them to their new house in a new state.

Camila didn't even unpack. She'd been living out of boxes for days, sleeping on a sheet-less mattress and staring at the ugly painted wall. She hated being here, but that didn't matter. She was going to hate the rest of her life without her father, so it didn't matter that she had no friends here and that her walls were bare.

She dragged herself off the mattress that morning for her first day of school only because her mother yelled at her to. Camila always pictured her first day of high school—putting on something cute she'd spent a summer shopping for, getting to wear makeup for the first time, getting to look the way girls always did in the teen shows she watched on tv—but all of that was before.

Now, she didn't care how she looked. She pulled on old jeans and a dance camp t-shirt from middle school. She was going to look like such an immature weirdo, but she didn't care.

Her mother didn't say anything about Camila taking her father's coat to school. She'd taken to wearing it a lot lately, she liked the way it was big enough to hide her whole body. She needed something to hide behind today.

She left her hair loose, letting it curtain in front of her face. Behind it, she rolled her eyes at teachers who introduced themselves with too-wide smiles. The best thing about high school was that no one made Camila introduce herself to the class. That was too kiddish. They just told her to have a seat anywhere.

So she did, in every class she sat by the window and stared out, not listening to any of the lectures. It was only the first day, they didn't matter.

All around her, kids whispered to each other, laughing and talking, swapping old jokes she wasn't in on. They texted under the desks, swapping thoughts on upcoming plans.

For no reason, in the middle of English class, she felt like crying. But there was no way she was going to tear up and start sniffling in the middle of class when she was already a weirdo with no friends. She managed to hold it all back until the bell rang.

She bolted and went to the bathroom, locking herself in a stall and blowing her nose on toilet paper. He was gone, he was really gone and now she was all alone. She didn't know anyone. No one cared about her anymore.

She waited until the other girls at the sink finished touching up their makeup before she stepped out. She washed her face in the sink and went back into the hallway, taking her schedule out again.

She stopped at the end of the hall, glancing up again when she realized she must have gone the wrong way. The room number on her schedule was nowhere around. Cursing under her breath, she turned back the way she'd come.

The halls were thinning now, everyone in their classes when she got to the other end and saw that no, she'd gone the wrong way again.

The urge to cry crept back in. She was lost. She was going to be late for class, she was going to walk in after the bell and everyone was going to stare at her. The teacher was going to ask why she was late and she pictured everyone laughing when she'd tell them she got lost.