11:11 | Cameron Boyce Story

Sixteen

Cameron

I'm stupid for slapping Bonnie. She's my only friend, and now she hates me. So I think it's time to do something I never usually do, and go apologize to her for real this time.
I walk to her house in the rain, just because I need some time to think about what I'm going to say to her, but outside in the driveway her car is missing.
Frowning, I knock on the door and compose myself again, revising my apology speech one last time. When the door opens, who I'm guessing is Bonnie's mom steps out.
"Who are you?" She asks, "You're not from that sales place, right?"
I shake my head, "Um, no, I'm Cameron. Bonnie's friend-"
"Oh. You're Cameron." Her tone is blunt and she doesn't look happy to see me at all, "Come inside. Bon should be back soon."
I follow her mom into the kitchen and take a seat at the table. The atmosphere is so awkward, I literally feel sick with all the tension.
"So, where is Bonnie?" I ask.
Her mother passes me a glass of water and then sits opposite me, "Not sure. She went out to give something to someone, I think."
There's a few seconds of silence, and then she speaks up again, "When my daughter described this 'cute boy from work' to me, I didn't think he'd stink of cigarettes and vodka."
I smile, "Bonnie thinks I'm cute, huh?"
"Yeah, but I don't. Kid, you're what, 16? And you're addicted to drugs and alcohol?"
Trying to conceal my anger, I sit on my hands. No more slapping people.
"You don't know what I've been through-" I tell her.
She lets out a soft chuckle, "Oh honey, I do. Bonnie told me everything. I don't want you to influence her in a bad way."
There's nothing I can say without starting some sort of fight. I warned Bonnie that I would be bad for her, but she didn't listen.
"Look, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, but there are a few things you need to know about Bonnie."
I let her continue.
"Bonnie's father left us over a year ago, and he was abusive and almost always drunk. I tried to protect her by keeping her as innocent as I could. Now she just sees through all the bad people in the world, and you, Cameron, are not someone I want her to be around."
"Who are you tell your daughter who she can be friends with? She's almost seventeen years old, she can have a life of her own. Bonnie needs her freedom at some point."
This woman pisses me off, but I hear her out anyway, "I'm her mother. And until she's 21 and legal, I will tell her what she can and can't do."
"What if she goes to college? What if she moves out at 20? Then what will you do? Live under her stairs like Harry Potter?! Yes, I know I've got a bad reputation, but I can fix that. Just please don't take Bonnie from me, she's the only person who actually cares about me."
She stands up and stares at me, "I don't like you, Cameron. I don't like how you treat yourself and the way you act, but I think you've got a good personality. Deep down, under all that hatred and depression, you've got a heart. I think it's time you start using it. Now get out my house."
I laugh and leave like she asks. When I imagined meeting Bonnie's parents, I never expected it would be like that.

***
Bonnie

I look back at my car parked at the end of the street; I've made it this far, I can't go back now.
I walk at a fast pace down the sidewalk, I want to get this over with.
Shaking, I grip my phone tightly in my hand. The police station is in sight now, and all the evidence is in the palm of my hand.
Truthfully, I don't want Cameron to get arrested, but there's most of me that wants him to suffer after everything he's put me and other people through.
I reach the door of the police station and I step inside the empty waiting room.
"Oh, hi." A receptionist says from behind her desk.
I flash a quick smile, "Hi. I'm, um, here to report a crime."
"Right, sure. Just fill out this paper here."
The woman hands me a sheet of paper and I fill in my name, date of birth, address and phone number.
Name of criminal (if known).
I write 'Cameron Boyce' with a lot of confidence in myself.
Crime(s) committed.
My hand begins to feel clammy as I write 'underage drinking, illegal drug use, street fighting, and physical abuse'.
Are you a witness of any of the above?
I tick yes.
Are you a victim of any of the above? Please specify.
I tick yes, again, and answer with 'physical abuse'.
"I'll just be a few seconds," the receptionist tells me, "Stay right here."
I can't help myself anymore. I burst into tears and rip up the report. I can't turn him into the police, what kind of friend would I be if I did?
I know he's done wrong, but I can help him. He needs me.
I stuff the torn up paper into my purse and sprint out the door and back to my car.
They'll find me again eventually, and they'll find Cameron too. But until then, I need to keep him away from me at all times.