Catalyst

VI

Camila leaves the bathroom a changed woman.

She's got a hop in her step, a smile on her face, and a pad in her underwear. She only has her mystery deliverer to thank, though she had absolutely no clue who it could be. Everyone seemed not to care or just to simply hate her, even though she'd done nothing to earn their hate.

She returns to her cell block before breakfast to grab her jacket, spotting Frangipane sprawled out on her bed with her legs in the air, leaning against the wall beside her.

"What are you—never mind, actually. I won't ask." Camila moves over to her own bed, straightening the blanket and grabbing her jacket from the dresser. "Hey, Frangipane?"

"What do you want, Cabello?"

Camila turns to face the other woman, trying to find a good way to ask if she knew who'd left her a gift the other night. Maybe she'd seen someone enter their block, or the same had happened to her, or... Camila really just needs to know. It doesn't feel right not being able to thank her savior.

Jesus, she thinks, stop acting like someone saved your life. They're just pads.

"Did anybody ever... leave you any surprises?" Camila steps around the subject carefully. She doesn't want to spill the beans unless she knows for certain that Frangipane has gotten the same treatment. If people know that somebody favors her, she has a feeling she'll end up on the wrong side of the prison.

"What do you mean?" Frangipane asks, though Camila can tell she's bored with the conversation. "Because if you mean has anybody ever wedged a bloody tampon in my sandwich, than yes, I have received plenty of surprises. Why?"

"Just... wondering." Camila feels like she's never escaped a room faster as she makes her way to breakfast.

She sits alone, as usual. She's pretty sure people purposefully avoid her table since the incident the other day with Jauregui. Even though the girl barely speaks, it's clear she strikes a level of fear within the other inmates.

She briefly wonders if Jauregui was the one who left behind the pads, but then she thinks that one kindness from the woman was already too much in her pretty green eyes. You can't get soft in prison.

Save me once, shame on you.

Camila holds in a groan when a tray is placed on the table across from her, snapping her from her thoughts. Slowly, she lifts her gaze, expecting to see one of the women from the other day. When she's met with a warm smile, however, she visibly relaxes.

She notes that Jauregui is watching them from the corner of her eye, though she isn't sure if the protective look is for herself, or this other woman.

"Hello! I'm Hansen." She holds her hand across the table, Camila taking it slowly and shaking it.

"Cabello."

"Just thought I'd introduce myself." She goofily bows her head, making the corners of Camila's lips rise. "Blah, blah, blah, pleasantries, blah, blah... Anyway. Let me ask you something."

When she doesn't continue straight away, Camila urges her on with a simple, "What?"

"Are you gay? 'Cause I was talking about it with some of the Spanish girls, and they think you're gay, but I told them, 'oh, no way, she's totally bi,' but they said that since they're Latina they can read you better. And I said, 'what kind of bullshit is that?' and—"

"I'm straight." Camila mumbles, taking a bite of the "eggs."

Hansen bursts out into laugher.

"What? What's so funny?" Camila's eyebrows draw together as Hansen leans over, clutching her stomach.