College Ruled

twelve

| 12 |
________

CAMI GIVES me her famous once-over anyways, even as I arrive alone, and I have only my unbrushed hair to blame.

She's sitting in the loveseat by the living room window when I shuffle through the door, her legs folded over each other, shoes perched neatly right next to the leg of the couch. Christina's huddled on the couch next to Leyla. She's picking nervously at the ruffled BTS throw pillow we'd snatched from the dumpster and deep-washed last year.

She jumps up from her spot the second I latch the door shut.

Not that I blame her. My sister tends to drag the air of intimidation along with her wherever she goes. It's the way she holds herself. Perfect posture, effortlessly glossy dark hair, eyes that can drill right into you (eyes that I'm pretty positive have never looked unsure in her entire life) — that kind of thing. She has a presence. Even when she's quiet, there's no fading into the background for her. She's seen, noticed. Every single place she goes.

Plus, when you don't have your shit together, you tend to be able to spot those who do. And Cami's always made it quite obvious that she's one of the lucky ones: graduating with honors, securing her dream job, breaking that glass ceiling with a mere tap from one of her perfectly styled fingernails.

     Even those naive enough not to give a single fuck about the pesky little thing called the future envy her.

     And me? I'm just so proud. Because one of us actually fucking did it.

     Not that Cami's ever looked close enough to notice. She is always too busy focusing on everything that I'm not.

    "Remi's here, finally," Christina chirps. She smiles, much too brightly, toward Camilla and slaps Leyla's forearm, who has crawled off the couch to stand beside her. "Look, Remi's here."

     Valerie, who I hadn't even realized was here, snorts from her spot on one of the barstools. She swivels toward the living room, a spoon clamped between her teeth and a tub of birthday cake ice cream defrosting on the counter in front of her. "They've been like this ever since she showed up."

     I sigh. "Can you guys give us a minute?"

    It's Val who actually moves into action. My two lovely roommates are still gawking at my sister. Valerie ushers them out of the room, and a clumsily loud, "Nice to see you again, Camilla," follows them out, via Christina.

    Then it's just the two of us.

    Camilla smiles toward the hall. "They seem nice."

    She says it as if she hasn't met them before.

     "Yeah. They are."

      We stare at each other, both waiting for the other to crack first, to take that step past the ghost of familiarity that is always lurking around us to get to what she's really here for.

    I'm stubborn enough to make sure it's never me.

Cami releases an impatient breath. "You haven't been answering Mom and Dad."

With the spell broken, I migrate toward the kitchen in search of something to busy myself with. Leyla — bless her — left a spread of pop-tart crumbs along the counter edge. The crumbled, glossy foil abandoned near the sink.

I focus my efforts onto that.

I wet a paper towel and wipe at the dirty counter. "They sent you all the way here because I haven't responded to a few texts?" Cami's lips mirror the frown I feel on my own face. Oh, Remedy. Of fucking course they did. "And before you guilt me about how much they worry about me — I'm fine. They'd know that if they bothered to stop by themselves, so I'm sorry that you wasted all those hours driving here."