Call Out

Susana Ayala

T'was a beautiful day today, the sky was finally dimmed out from the shady rays and the rain a miraculous downpour. Colonies of puddles were established and little streams poured down the sliding slopes, the drumming precipitation brought pitter-pattering against houses' eaves, the clouds a delightful shade of grey as thunder roared, echoing off in the distance like a wild beast on the loose. The sidewalks were gushed in liquid and hidden, unwanted weeds and obscure moss thrived from the water provided. Each passing car created a splish, a splash and everything was marked in complete vapour. The plants and trees looked greener than usual, popping away from the dull strokes of the painted watercolour palette. What a day to be alive.

   Near the station, people continuously tug their bags for umbrellas and quickly flee from one roof to another for shelter but instead, I unravel my blazer and let the present day soak in. Droplets of moisture happily tap against my skin, calling me, washing away my unhappiness and sorrow. For once I felt the expression of what the other people called a smile.

I violently shoved my school bag into the tiny one-by-one whatever and eyed my schedule on the little slip of paper taped to the door, "You're soaked," Camy stated the obvious, I sensed her silhouette lurking from behind. Then, "Why didn't you bring an umbrella, you could get sick like that," her tone held a weight of concern as she removed her own blazer and covered my shoulders with its warmth.

   "I like the rain," I clarified, kneading the water from my disoriented hair in an attempt to ease the linen heaviness from my shoulder, "It's nature's gift."

   It's always Camy.

   "Doesn't mean you soak yourself in it," Camille dragged me by the back collar and off into the bathroom with the little of ten minutes we had left, "Come on, let's get you dried up."

   I stifled a sigh.

   My shirt as stated prior was completely soaked, same goes for the tie which was completely disoriented, my grey pants were also splattered with dampness but not unbearable and my expression no longer were joyous. Wow, WOW, who would have guessed that there were no paper towels in the shitty bathroom? The tiles could do with a huge renovation, one of the mirrors was completely astray, grey marks remained as reminders on the wall and who would have guessed that the toilet papers were scattered everywhere on the damn floor. You don't need a mirror, you're already ugly as fuck. Camy picked the cleanest stall she could find before stuffing me in one, ordering me to hand her my uniform and sit still.

   Assertive but polite, those two combinations don't go well together.

  My tie was hung over the top of the cabin and my white button-up was squeezed dry of rain and dried underneath the budget hand dryer. I perched inside the stall in complete silence while Camy hummed a playful tune to the warm gust of air.

   I stare at the dew drops resting atop the dull black leather shoe, wobbling. My eyes dart towards the crack of light underneath the cubicle, I spot Camy's shoe, shiny and polished. She cares enough about her clothing choices and I don't.

   How can someone who completely adheres to a completely different world, be willing to befriend someone like...

   "You don't need to..." I suddenly muttered under my breath, embarrassed.

   "Hmm?" Camy asked, stopping the hand dryer from blowing, "Did you say something?"

   "No I didn't," I objected, making sure Camy heard my grumble.

   "Mmkay," she smiled delightfully, returning to her budget dryer, ruffling the shirt until it was somewhat wearable. When she finished, she knocked on my door.

   "Here you go!" Camy replied proudly, flicking the strands of hair behind her fringe, "You can put it on now."

   I shuffled around, buttoning up the grey buttons, not letting the moisture of my hair soak into Camy's hard work.

   "Why?"

   My eyes locked downwards to the uninteresting floor.

   "Hmmm?"

   "Why do you keep coming back to me even though I try to ignore you so many times? It wouldn't be too hard to leave me alone like everyone else."

   "... You're my friend."

   "That's fucking stupid and cringe."

   "You always say that," Camy cooed, beaming.

   "... I know you have other people to be with, better friends or even lovers so why do you keep insisting on being here?"

   "I don't know."

   "W-what do you mean you don't know?"

   "I just thought you deserve more."

   "Can you stop being so nice? I don't like it."

   I hate everything about Camy. I hated it all. Why'd she have to poke her nose into my life so unnecessarily? Why did she even bother? Why? No one asked for it and I didn't either. Now that time has passed, I don't seem to mind her as much.

   No, you shut up, we're just friends and nothing more.

Some stranger was waving at me.

   This was about term two in year seven, I still had the bob cut (like that one blind girl, Dora the Explorer failing to see unless she receives help from the audience) and everything and everyone had already begun to formulate some form of relationship (likely for beneficial purposes) during the beginning of a high school year and I was still pretty much still by myself.

   That's okay though, I don't need to give a fuck about anything or anyone.

   Then that stranger kept waving.

   And waving.

   And waving.

   Stranger danger, I thought at first and I pretended to not notice or just outright ignore her before heading off to my next class.

   We never spoke ever but she just kept waving.

   After two weeks I finally gave in and decided to uncover who this figure was, I scoured the school's name list of every single year seven until I found them.

   Camille Chang.

   The extremely low-resolution photo displayed her with a white headband and the photographer made her look a bit like a rabbit. Her long hair in this case was straightened and carefully brushed unlike her real profile whenever she waves, as suspected, shitty school photos never bring justice to anyone. On my student ID, I was leaning due to the fact that the photographer thought it would be unique to make it seem like I was in great Italy.

   What a weirdo, I thought, picturing the floater girl with the umber hair who kept persistently waving at me. Weirdo. Weirdo. Weirdo.

   The next day I just about had enough and confronted the situation. She was doing her usual thing, stupidly waving at me, signalling to a complete stranger, me.

   "Hey you! Yeah, why do you keep waving at me?" I demanded rather hoarsely.

   She was obviously very taken aback by my outburst.

   "Ha! So that's how you sound like, that took way longer than expected..." the idiot smiled rubbing her head in embarrassment, her finger weaving through the lengthy hair.

   "ANSWER MY DAMN QUESTION-"

   "Woah... hold on..."  

   Strangers are just friends you haven't yet met.

   I've grown my hair.