forget me not [severe hiatus]

chapter five - making friends in cimarron hills

elliot

If you don’t like something, change it. If you can’t change it, change your attitude. -Maya Angelou

“So you’re the new boy?” A cheeky blonde asks, sliding in to the seat next to me. She looks me up and down, her eyes sliding over my worn-out sneakers to my grey sweatshirt, her gaze lingering a second too long over the bulk of my pants.

 “Um,” I reply uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond. She’s pretty - gorgeous, even - but blunt and straightforward. Scratching the back of my neck, I’m about to sputter out a reply, but I’m saved by another girl who quickly sits down next to the blonde.

 “Maggie - what are you doing?” She asks, looking like a laugh is about to bubble out of her lips. “Are you harassing the new kid?”

 “Oh, as if he doesn’t like it,” Maggie grins and smacks by leg playfully. I force out an awkward smile and look from face to face.

 “Right. I’m Milla - well, Camille, but everybody calls me Milla,” the brunette smiles politely, smiling shyly but still looking me in the eye. “And as I’m sure she didn’t introduce herself, this is Maggie.”

 Maggie nods. “Yeah... But you can call me anything, babe.”

 Camille laughs softly to herself, amused by Maggie’s antics. I, however, am not, instead finding it very uncomfortable. Camille seems to realise she’s still holding her lunch tray in her lap and instead places it on the cafeteria table.

 “Go get lunch, Mags,” Camille prods Maggie gently with her foot underneath the table. Groaning, Maggie stands up and winks at me before sashaying away. Camille gives out a tiny spurt of laughter, and scoots over to Maggie’s old seat - except she doesn’t seem to invade my personal space as much as Maggie had.

 “Sorry about her. She’s on her period,” Camille states, and I cringe. “Oh, wait, sorry - that’s just a common thing with her, all her friends know about it. She has to take pills for it; it can get really bad, and she gets kind of clingy. And she’s always talking about boys.” She takes a sip of her vending-machine Cola. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, really.”

 “Right,” I nod, acting as if I understand. Instead of continuing along with this topic of conversation, I look down towards the sandwich that had been carelessly thrown on my tray by the lovely lunch lady. “Do you know what kind of sandwich this is?”

 Camille leans over and squints at my sandwich. She wrinkles her nose (which I can’t help but find cute) before declaring it a ham, lettuce, and cheddar cheese sandwich and apologising for how cheap the school is.

 “It’s no problem, really,” I smile. “Honest. At my last school, they kind of just threw whatever was in the fridge in a bowl and boiled it. This is luxury, believe me.”

 Camille sits up straight, smiling. “Glad to see someone likes the food here. Half our lunches are filled with us complaining about how bad the food is. It’d be nice for some positive input once in awhile.”

 “Wait - who’s the “us” you’re referring to? Or are you just using the royal ‘we?’” I ask, carefully unwrapping the shrink wrap from the bread. Camille takes this opportunity to dive into a quick yet detailed explanation of each person she regularly hangs out with. The first she names is Maggie, who is an “eccentric-yet-lovable little girl with a desire to be the center of attention.”