My Favorite Camren One-Shots (Part 2)

One and Only

You first meet her in Ms. Pearl’s first grade class. You’re all bright smiles and cheerful voiced, excited to meet someone knew. As you stick your hand out to her, stating your usual, “Hi, I’m Camila! Well, actually, Karla, but I go by Camila”, she cuts you off.

“We’ll never be friends.”

That stops you short, your had lingering awkwardly between the both of you. Those light green-with-a-hint-of-blue-yellow eyes (the ones that drew you to her in the first place) are challenging you, daring you to make a second attempt. Ignoring her biting tone and the intimidating look on her face, you shrug.

“That’s okay. What’s your name?”

Her thick eyebrows raise in confusion, obviously not expecting you to stick around. Usually her words cut like a knife and kids scamper off, leaving her alone. The way she likes it. “Lauren.” She says quietly, eyes searching your face. “You annoy me.”

You let out a little laugh and shrug, sitting down next to her. “That’s okay, too. My mom says that all the time, but I know she still loves me.”

You’re in second grade by the time she finally agrees to sleepover, getting tired of your constant insistence. Most people don’t understand your friendship - if you can even call it that. The teachers think it’s unhealthy, the way Lauren teases you, puts you down, the way you still stick by her side and defend her antics. You don’t know why you do it either; you’re friends with just about everyone else in your class. You don’t need Lauren. But you want to be her friend, and you’re not one to give up on what you want. The word your mom uses for you - what was it, am … ambitious? - is something you hear almost daily when adults describe you.

Lauren shows up at your house after dinner, sleeping bag under one arm and duffel bag with her clothes hanging from the other. After introducing her to your parents, you grab her hand and lead her upstairs, gushing about how much fun you’re going to have.

“No.” She says bluntly, rolling out her sleeping bag as soon as you’re in your room. “This is a sleepover. I intend to sleep.” She smoothes the blanket out and crawls underneath, not even bothering to change into her pajamas. You open your mouth to protest but she zips the bag up, letting you know she doesn’t want to hear it.

And that was that.

.

(She’s made it a habit of showing up at your house on Fridays, even when you don’t invite her, staying up a bit later each time and even watching a movie occasionally.)

When it comes time for fifth grade, everyone is very surprised that you two are still friends. (Well, she’s your friend. You don’t know where you stand in her book.) Your weekly sleepovers still take place without fail, no matter the weather. Sickness doesn’t ruin it either, as playing doctor is one of your favorite games (although Lauren would never admit that).

Sometimes when she comes over, you’ll put on shows for your parents, singing and dancing together. These are the moments you love the most, a bright smile gracing her features as she performs, no hurtful words thrown at you. You’ll take a bow and blow kisses to your “audience” before retreating back upstairs in a fit of giggles. You’ll both collapse on your bed, cheeks flushed and hair wild as the laugher settles down to a dull chuckle and then eventually, silence.

The silence is always a comfortable one, your shoulders touching as you lay side by side on your twin bed. You’ll reach over and take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, smiling when she squeezes it back.

“We’re not friends.” She always whispers, moving her hand out of yours.

“I know.”

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