Camilla

one

C A M I L L A

I know I'm in deep shit the second I step into class ten minutes late. And I know it's going to be my fault that I end up in said shit because I have a problem controlling my mouth.

Or so I've heard.

Mrs. Ruth turns when the door closes rather loudly behind me. She gives me a tight-lipped smile and I raise an eyebrow expectantly. I've seen that smile too many times to not have a direct translation for it. It says Camilla, please punch me in the throat. 

"You're late," she says, looking me up and down. "Again."

I nod and click my tongue once. "Obviously." I begin to tap my foot against the floor, waiting for her to say something else. Because I've been through this with her enough times to know we won't be calling it quits with this conversation yet.

Mrs. Ruth sighs, and I watch her nose scrunch up as she tries to keep her anger in check. That seems so restraining to me. Personally, I let my irritation flow free. While Mrs. Ruth tries to keep from choking me, I try to keep from smiling at the face she makes. I'm close to failing, but she speaks again and a scowl takes up residence. It's for the best, I suppose. A smile in a time like this wouldn't get me anywhere good. 

"Things would be so much easier around here if you kept the attitude to a minimum, Camilla."

I rolled my eyes at her. "No fucking shit, Captain Obvious." Oops. I try to backtrack slightly. "I prefer the hard way, anyway."

I can usually shove the, as Ruth says, attitude down my throat, but with the way my mother has been lately and the way Mrs. Ruth is looking at me, it's hard to control myself. Besides, I prefer the term flare. 

And I mean, the reactions are hilarious. Not from my classmates, of course. I really couldn't care less about them. But from Ruth. She's old enough to have been raised in a stricter time, but young enough to understand teenage angst, which is what she's so sure I have. It isn't angst. Not really, anyway. 

I glance over at Taylor, sitting in her usual seat next to mine. The frown on her face is a clear warning, one I pretend I can't understand. I just grin at her. She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, and I return my attention back to Mrs. Ruth.

"Language," she scolds once she's recovered from the shock I'd put her in. It's taken her so long to answer I almost forget what I said. 

"English," I retort. It's overused, and I almost cringe from the use of it, but I am not in the right mind frame for an original comeback. Besides, I just know that'll make her more mad than anything I can think of on my own. 

"Alright," she sucks in a breath, clasping her hands together loudly before pointing towards the direction of my favorite place. "Office. Now." 

I salute her with my fuck-you-finger. "Gladly." As I spin to head out the door, I catch the eye of a face I don't recognize.

How fun. I love new kids.