Not Like Your Demons

Chapter 3

"Do we need to call the CSI? To look around for your brain? What the fuck are you doing," Normani snarls as soon as she crosses the entryway to the Cabello kitchen. Now that they're Dinah-free, she's also free to voice out her dismay and outright disbelief. She's staring at Camila's back like the head cheerleader has grown a second head which has a Mohawk as she paces close to the storming HBIC.

Yeah, right. Because she is the one that has the right to storm out of her.

"The right thing, finally," Camila counters simply, swiveling so that she could face the angry girl, looking totally composed. Trying to fight with Normani would be a death wish, but not to Camila. She is the only one aside from Dinah who could argue with the Cheerio and not expect to be buried alive the next day. Or that night itself, if Normani is feeling especially vicious.

Normani scoffs, momentarily staring off the side before gazing back at Camila with a glare hot enough to burn Alaska. "The right thing? Do you even hear yourself? Since when is helping that "Lauren" of Disaster doing the right thing?"

The last thing Normani expected to find in Camila's home when she arrived this evening is a blanketed lump of nauseating dorkiness in the guest bedroom. The same one that Dinah's worriedly gushing over now. The same one that has caused her present dismay and their future doom. If she had have known that it's the freak they're buying supplies for, Normani should have just brought poison.

"Since I acknowledged that we have been defining the word 'right' wrongly at school, Ms. Hamilton," the brunette replies evenly.

Normani is awed. And not in the good way. Well, admittedly, maybe it's the right thing. Doing some stupid philanthropic deeds for some weirdo. But it's not the right thing for them. Not when they have the cold-and-unforgiving-ice-queens-whose-badassery-surpass-everyone reputation to uphold.

Also, Camila called her by her surname. The use of surnames when they're fighting signifies that Camila is serious in her stand and there's a good chance that nothing Normani will say can derail her from defending her side.

"I can't believe your ass right now," Normani just says, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms.

"And you think I can believe yours?"

"Well you should, because even if you're smarter than me, my ass is bigger and I'm the right one for once. Can't you see? I think she's playing the sorry victim here, Camila. That lizard-looking lunatic could be planning on a lot of things. I can't believe you'd fall for something like that."

"She doesn't have to play the victim, Normani. If it's not clear enough for you, she's the victim here."

"That's bullshit and you know that."

Well, fact is she's not sure about that one, but she just has to be. It's not right and probably not safe for them to just take that weirdo in. It's a cruel world out there, and she thought she has successfully drilled it in Camila's head long ago. She rakes her brain for a point of argument. "Look at what Little Miss Innocent did to our project. Victim still? You'll just let that one pass?"

"Oh, please. That project was an epic fail," Camila argues. "Plus, it was obvious that she didn't mean it. And it's not like you were looking at where you were going, too."

"So you're blaming me now," she asks heatedly as she continues glaring at Camila disbelievingly. Sure she got distracted when the broken-nosed (from an early and unfortunate run-in with Shawn) JewFro's uglier-than-usual face passed her by, but that doesn't mean it's her fault. Jaurefreak should have known better than to forget her place.

"No, and you know that. I just want you to stop blaming it all on Lauren. It's unfair."

"I won't. And, seriously, Lauren? So you're on first-name basis now? What's next, you'll have some private dorky clap or something?"