The phone rang early on January 1st, which no one had expected mainly because such things shouldn't happen, and though Camila was the furthest from the phone, she was the only one that dragged herself out of bed to answer it.
Harry and Louis had come prepared to spend the night and their inflatable mattress now took up most of the living room. But Camila smiled at the sight of them snuggled up under the covers, oblivious to the sound of the ringing phone, or perhaps just too hung over.
"Hello?" she said, hiding her annoyance, or at least trying to.
The voice at the other end of the phone sounded entirely too awake. "Hi! Is this Dinah Jane Hansen? My name is Jacob Ryans and I'm the director of Little Purple Butterflies, which you might've heard of. Anyhoo, Sierra Murphy gave me your number. She's the casting director for Summer's Dance and a good friend of mine, and she told me you would be absolutely perfect for my lead. Which is fabulous because I really need a lead. I know it's a holiday and all but I was hoping you'd be available for coffee or maybe brunch so we could talk about the film and everything. What do you say?"
Camila rubbed her eyes with her free hand. "I'm sorry, this isn't Dinah. Hang on." She knocked on Dinah's door, too tired to wrap her mind around everything the guy had said to her. When Dinah didn't answer, Camila knocked harder, and heard a groan from somewhere in the living room. Exasperated, she turned the handle and walked in.
Dinah's room was a mess of clothes and papers, and the bed was a rainbow of laundry that might've been clean or dirty or a combination of both. Camila crawled on the bed and dug
Dinah's arm from beneath the covers. Her best friend moaned in protest as Camila put the phone in her hand. "Phone call," Camila said.
"I'll call back," Dinah mumbled.
"It's a film director."
Dinah was up in a flash, as though the words had been infused with caffeine or perhaps electricity. "Hello? Hi? This is Dinah."
Camila smiled to herself and left Dinah to her phone call.
In the living room, Harry was stretching. "How much did we drink last night?"
Camila smiled at her stepbrother. "Entirely too much." She looked down at the mattress to see that Louis was still sleeping. To Harry, she said, "Coffee?"
"I knew I loved you for a reason," Harry said, yawning. He followed Camila into the kitchen.
"Did I hear the phone?"
"Some film director," Camila said, realizing after saying it that she should've sounded more excited. "I'll, um, give that the proper intonation it deserves after I get some caffeine in my system."
Harry looked surprised. "A film director, really? I better get Dinah's autograph now before she starts to forget the little people."
Camila smiled and turned to the business of making coffee. She'd drank less alcohol than the rest of them during their big New Year's extravaganza, but her head was still killing her.
Harry sat at the table and Camila saw him looking at the book she'd left there. "The Poisonwood Bible," he read off the cover. "I think I read this in college. Is it still on the syllabus?"
She hadn't told her stepbrother about Laura. Didn't really know what to tell him, except, "This girl I met online recommended it."
"You've been hanging out in chat rooms lately?"
"Not exactly. She bought a painting from me a while back and emailed to say she liked it. We hit it off."
Harry smiled and flipped through the book. "That was nice of her."
