Keep Me Alive • Camren

Five

"Complete and utter bullshit!"

Lauren is taken a back. "What? So only bad things can happen to you?"

"Well for one, that's not even bad, and for two, I doubt it even happened."

"Giving your sister stitches over a bottle of Adderall is not bad? What's your definition of bad then?"

"You know. Killing someone, gateway drugs, fags. The usual."

"Fags?"

Camila nods. Maybe becoming her friend wouldn't be as easy as Lauren thought. "You're against homosexuality?"

"Well, yeah."

"Why? And I swear that if you use the bible as an excuse I'll throw you off this roof myself."

"It's just....unnatural."

"Why? Are you..."

Lauren pondered if she should tell Camila for several seconds. She decided she would. Their relationship couldn't get any worse to be honest. "I am."

Camila widens her eyes, "no wonder you keep stalking me."

Lauren scoffs, "you're so ignorant. I don't know why I thought we could be friends."

"I don't wanna be friends with a faggot anyway."

Lauren rolls her eyes and storms off. She lets the door slam shut behind her, but before making it even two feet she returns. She was practically desperate for friends.

"Look, I don't know anyone in this town, and I'm willing to move past this whole homophobia thing."

"I'm not homophobic, I just think it's weird."

"Do you think you'd be willing to be friends."

"I dunno.."

"Please? I'm practically begging you."

As much as she'd hate to admit it, Camila basically craved friendship, even if it was from an annoying Lesbian.

"As long as you don't develop a crush on me."

Lauren grins, "You're not my type anyway."

Even though she said she didn't believe homosexuality was a good thing, she was offended, "not your type?"

"Yeah."

"What's you're type then?"

"Cute, funny, pretty smile....nice. Which you're none of."

"What?"

"Come on. Even you know it's true."

"Yeahhhh."

The new friends stood on the balcony until the sun went down, and for once there was no awkward or angry silence, but Lauren wondered how she could be friends with Camila after her revelation. Maybe the same way Camila could be after hers.

So for the next week Lauren spent all her time after school on the roof with Camila. They talked about everything and nothing, and ever since they figured out they have the same taste in music, most of the time was spent giving each other song suggestions.

Lauren is usually the last one there due to her school being farther away, as well as being let out later than Camila's. She usually arrives to find Camila reading a book, usually by Edgar Allan Poe. Usually, but not today. Today, Lauren is there first. She shrugs it off, Camila is probably running a little late. Then she remembers the last time Camila was late, and for a second she thinks a bad a thought, but only for a second. Camila said she wouldn't do anything. Then again, that was weeks ago. Lauren shakes her head and walks over to the edge, she leans on the balcony and waits. She waits, and waits, and waits. For five hours.

Any normal person would realize that Camila wasn't coming. Any normal person would leave after an hour, but Lauren isn't any normal person.

When the time is 9:00 P.M, she gives up on waiting for the day. She sighs and disappointingly makes her way home, she should probably start practicing for her recital.

The next morning Lauren hopefully skips to the bus stop. She furrows her eye brows as she scans the streets full of people. No sign of Camila. Lauren lets out a sigh when her bus arrives. Today would be a long day. Spending time with small girl helped Lauren get through her days at CAPA. She figured she should try to make friends there too, but the school was no where near what she expected. She admits that her expectations were a little exaggerated though. She was kidding herself if she honestly thought that the students would be nice, or the classes would be easy and fun. It was one of the most prestigious performing arts institutions in the country, not High School Musical. The kids only saw each other as competition, the teachers seemed as if they were irritated they had to spend their precious time teaching "amateurs." Lauren sometimes wanted to drop out and go to a regular high school, possibly Sayre, but she remembers how she gave her parents a thirty minute long speech about how much of a learning experience it would be.

Pulling open the doors to her personal hell, Lauren staggers to her locker. Not forgetting to run into ten people within in three minutes, without a sine I'm sorry" or "pardon me" from them. They didn't even acknowledge her existence. No one was offering you a thousand dollars back in Miami, but the stereotypes of East Coast people not being very friendly were quite true, with the exception of Florida that was.

She retrieves her sheet music, slamming the locker door. letting out her second, but definitely not last sigh of the day, she begins her undesired journey to the piano room. You'd think that with as many people as Lauren has bumped into she'd learn to not keep her eyes plastered to the floor, but if there was something she hated more than ignorance, it was awkward eye contact. If she would have at least kept an eye out for flying doors, one probably wouldn't have hit her square in the face.

"Oh my god, are you all right?" The offender asks, and Lauren doesn't know what to be more surprised with. The fact that they asked if she was ok, or that they offered to help her up. "I'm fine," she answers, taking the hand and pulling herself up off the floor. "I'm so sorry, I really didn't see you there."

"No, it's totally fine."

"Oh. Look at that nasty bruise. I'll go get you some ice!"

"No, no! You don-" but they were gone before Lauren could protest. Sure, people were nice back home, but they would never offer to get you ice for a wound. This person must've been from the Mid West.

"Here."

"Thanks."

The one minute warning bell rings, "Oh, better get to class, but I'll see you around...."

"Lauren."

"Zendaya." The tan girl smiles and sprints down the hall. Lauren wonders how she manages to not trip and fall within the sea of students rushing to class. Letting out but yet another sigh, she supposes she should join them.