Love in the Fields

1

"I don't want to go live with them!" Camila's voice shook as she yelled, her fists clenched at her sides. She could feel her heart racing, each beat a drum of defiance and frustration. Her father stood across from her, arms crossed, his face as hard as stone.

"I don't care what you want, Camila! We warned you this would happen if your behaviour didn't change," he snapped, each word laced with a finality that left her breathless. Without another glance at her, he grabbed her duffel bag and dumped it on her bed. "Now pack."

Camila's defiant mask cracked as she looked at her father's retreating back, his footsteps heavy as he left her room, slamming the door behind him. She sank down onto her bed, hands pressed to her forehead as she tried to make sense of it all.

This wasn't fair. She was only a teenager; acting out was practically in her DNA! Didn't they get that? Instead of listening, instead of understanding, her parents were packing her off to the middle of nowhere with her aunt and uncle. The frustration boiled in her chest, mixing with a sense of dread. Leaving meant giving up her friends, her life... everything that was hers.

With a long, reluctant sigh, Camila slowly began tossing clothes into her bag. If she'd known they were serious, she might have thought twice about sneaking out last weekend. She'd heard their threats before and brushed them off as empty warnings. But this time was different. This time, they meant it.

After she'd packed her last sweater, Camila took one final look around her room. Her posters, her collection of concert tickets pinned to the corkboard, the tiny potted plant on her windowsill—all small pieces of her life she would have to leave behind. Taking a shaky breath, she forced herself to head downstairs, where her father was waiting, keys in hand.

As she walked toward the door, she spotted her mother, standing to the side, her face blotchy from crying. In that moment, all the anger and bitterness crumbled. Camila rushed over, wrapping her arms around her mother, burying her face in her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Mama," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Please... can't I just stay?"

Her mother's arms tightened around her, and for a fleeting second, Camila felt a glimmer of hope. But then her mother spoke, voice barely above a whisper, "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Your father... he's made his decision." She pulled back, her teary eyes meeting Camila's. "I'll call every day. I promise."

"Let's go," her father interrupted, his voice cold. Camila felt her mother press a gentle kiss on her forehead before pulling away, leaving her feeling hollow and alone.

"I love you," her mother murmured.

"I love you too, Mama," Camila whispered back, swallowing down the urge to beg one more time.

She climbed into the back seat of the car, leaning her head against the window as they pulled away from the house. The ride to the countryside was silent, the passing streetlights blurring together as tears stung her eyes. She didn't dare look back.

By the time they arrived, the morning mist was thick, and the sky had started to lighten. Camila stepped out of the car, the crisp country air feeling foreign and raw against her skin. All she could see were endless fields, dotted with grazing animals, and beyond that, a dense line of trees. She strained to hear something—anything—that reminded her of the city's constant hum. But all she heard was a distant moo, and the soft rustle of wind in the trees.

"Bags," her father barked. She bit her lip, swallowing down a sharp retort as she grabbed her things from the trunk. Together, they walked up to the sprawling farmhouse. It was a lovely house, with an old-fashioned porch, blooming flower beds, and a hint of fresh paint, but to her, it might as well have been a prison.

The door opened, and her uncle Rob appeared, his face breaking into a welcoming grin. "Camila! Good to see you, kiddo!" he said, his voice warm. Behind him, Aunt Pam waved with a bright, hopeful smile.

"Hi, Uncle Rob. Hi, Aunt Pam." Her voice was barely a mumble as she offered a forced smile. She hadn't seen them in years, not since she was little and her parents dragged her here for the holidays.

Rob clapped a hand on her father's shoulder. "Pam'll show Camila to her room. Let's talk about the kitchen."

Camila trailed behind Aunt Pam as they climbed the stairs to her new bedroom. The room was spacious, with an antique wooden bed, a cozy quilt, and a wide window offering a view of the vast fields beyond. It was nice, objectively even nicer than her room back home, but it felt cold, impersonal. It wasn't hers.

"Unpack, sweetheart, and come downstairs when you're ready. There are a few things we need to discuss." Pam's tone was gentle but firm, and Camila simply nodded, waiting until her aunt closed the door before she collapsed onto the bed.

Once her things were put away, she reluctantly made her way downstairs. She found her aunt and uncle sitting in the family room, her uncle patting the spot next to him. "Come, Camila, let's go over some house rules."

Camila sat, steeling herself for the inevitable list of restrictions. Rob cleared his throat. "Alright, first things first. Curfew's at eleven sharp. No drinking, no smoking, and absolutely no boys over—"

Camila's cheeks flushed, and she considered whether now was the time to casually mention that boys weren't exactly her type. But she decided against it, nodding along as Rob continued.

"And you need to have a purpose, Camila. Your dad told us you're not currently in school and you don't have a job."

"Yeah..." she mumbled, glancing away.

"Well, that's not how things work around here. You have two options: enroll at the local college, or get a job. If you choose the job, you'll be paying rent."

Camila sighed, her mind wandering to those endless school days that felt like a prison sentence. "I'll... I'll take the job."

Pam gave her a satisfied nod. "Great. We've actually arranged something for you. The Jaureguis, a family who lives just a few houses down, agreed to take you on."

"What would I... be doing?" Camila asked warily.

"Farm work," Pam replied. "Their daughter, Lauren, she's about your age. She'll be teaching you everything you need to know."

Camila's stomach tightened. Farm work? She didn't know the first thing about it.

"Don't worry," Rob added with a grin. "You'll learn quickly. This is part of your new life, Camila. Out here, people work for what they have. Your dad wanted you to understand that."

Camila felt a surge of defiance. Sure, maybe she'd taken things for granted in the city, but she wasn't some lost cause. Still, she nodded, realizing there was no point in arguing. "When do I start?"

"Five a.m. sharp," Rob said, his tone final. "Lauren will be here to pick you up."

"Five a.m.?" Her eyes widened in horror. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious," Rob replied with a smirk. "Better get some sleep."

With a groan, Camila trudged back to her room. After a long, scalding shower, she brushed her teeth and changed into her pyjamas, setting an alarm for the dreaded hour. She collapsed into bed, staring up at the ceiling, the silence pressing down on her. This place was strange, vast, and unsettling.

And yet, as she lay there, part of her couldn't shake the curiosity prickling at the edges of her mind. Who was this Lauren? And what would tomorrow bring in this unfamiliar world?

With a sigh, Camila closed her eyes, teetering on the edge of sleep, wondering if this place might surprise her in ways she hadn't expected.