Never Have I Ever

Chapter 8

Camila appears okay for a few seconds, before her eyes go milky and vacant. She walks into the house with militaristic precision, and I follow, struggling to keep up. She climbs the left staircase, the side I haven't been on, and up to the door labelled ‘Roof Access’. She opens it and walks up the other stairs, lifting the hatch and stepping onto the roof. The wind whips her hair around, and I call out.

“Camila! I'm sorry about what happened. Please get down. Please.”

“I can't do that. You know the rules.”

Her eyes change to normal, and she talks with utter sincerity.

“It was spur of the moment jealousy, Seraph. Tell my family I love them, and never meant for any of this to happen. Tell Thomas I love him, but don't hold a grudge. Tell Ember what I've said, and that I don't blame her for anything she's done. Apologise to Cecelia for me, for everything I've done to her. Tell Jack I'm sorry for lying to him about the photos. Tell Chelsea I forgive her for bringing us so she could live. Sam too. Tell Mason I wish I'd gotten to know him better, and I don't hold the backflip thing against him. Do this for me.”

“You're talking like you're going to die. And what backflip thing?”

“My eyes went blank because Ellie was showing me the vision. What it would look like. I know I'm going to die. Survive for me, Seraph.”

Mason yells something. I can't hear.

“I should do a backflip?” yells Camila. He agrees. She steps up to the ledge. I walk back inside, running down the stairs and outside. I stand behind Ember, as Camila tucks neatly in midair.

I also witness her landing.

My last memory of Camila Carmen Castillo is of her long ebony hair blowing freely in the California winds. Her copper skin, showing her Latin heritage, glistened in the sunlight beating down upon her, and her wide-set mahogany eyes sparkled with tears, their usual mischief gone. Her small mouth twisted into a fearful frown, yet set into grim determination. Her curves evident beneath her skinny jeans left nothing to the imagination and it was easy to understand how she never had to chase anyone before Thomas. Her thick eyebrows echoed her diamond face, and her strong jaw just proved she wasn't to be messed with.

Not that the concrete of the patio cares.

The impact causes her chest to split open, creating a corona of crimson on the tiles. Her hair is stuck to the congealing blood pouring from her lips. Her ashen skin is paler than I have ever seen. Jack walks over and kneels beside me. He flips her body over carefully and closes her beautiful eyes forever. They're the only thing that hasn't changed. Her white shirt is stained indelibly, and her legs are twisted at unnatural angles. The splatters from impact reach almost as far as where Celia was standing, and it's enough to cause Mason to throw up.

“I shouldn't have told her to do that,” chokes Mason. “She might have survived.”

“I told her to challenge herself,” says Ember, crying freely. “It's my fault.”

“Camila told me something,” I say, voice quaking. “Before she jumped. She told me to tell you,” I say, turning to Chelsea and Sam, “that she doesn't hold a grudge for bringing us here.”

Chelsea nods, and Sam speaks slowly.

“Camila, if you can hear this, if there’s something else, or if this is all some twisted joke, I understand, and I’m sorry.”

I turn to Thomas. “Camila says to tell you that she still loves you, but holds no grudges against you.” He smiles weakly. I turn to Celia. “She apologises for everything she’s ever done to you, because you don’t deserve that.” Celia nods solemnly. I turn to Jack. “She said she was sorry for lying to you about the pictures of the room.” He shakes his head before making an attempt to smile. “Mason, she wishes she’d gotten to know you better over this time and she doesn’t hold the backflip thing against you. Ember. She said to tell you everything, all the apologies, and that she doesn’t blame you for what you did. I presume you know what she was talking about.”