The Queen of Hearts (Camren)

the Queen of Hearts

Camila lay in the dark, listening to Annie Lennox sing to her about sweet dreams. Camila knew all about sweet dreams. She lived on them. Sweet, secret dreams. Night after night.Yeah, and I'm an idiot for listening to her.

The house was quiet. Her father and mother were working the late shift. Camila rolled on her side and stared at the red numerals on the bedside clock: 11:02 p.m. They'd crown the king and queen soon, and everyone would say what a perfect couple they were too. Her chest ached thinking about that. Thinking about how it would never happen for her. At least she didn't have to watch.

I bet she'll look beautiful.Behind closed eyes, Camila imagined her, as she had so many nights. How she looked. How she sounded. The way she smiled. The way she'd feel.

Camila groaned and squeezed her eyes more tightly closed, but the image remained, seared across the inside of her trembling lids.

11:05 p.m.

The night had hardly begun and already it seemed endless. Camila took a breath, listened to her heart pound, took another. The ache had spread to her stomach. It was no use. Even the promise of sweet dreams wasn't enough. She got up. Dressed. Stepped out into the night.What a loser.

But still she trudged on. Couldn't help herself. Couldn't resist. Couldn't give up the dream until she'd seen the impossibility of it for herself. Perhaps the cold, hard truth would set her free. Heartbreak heaven. Yeah.

With a litany of self-recrimination looping through her head, Camila bunched her fists in the pockets of her leather bomber jacket and hurried toward the blazing beacon a block away. The parking lot behind the gymnasium was filled to capacity with cars whose fresh polish sparkled in the glare of the halogens overhead. Here and there a limo edged along the chain-link fence or angled across three spaces at the end of a crowded row of SUVs and sedans. The huge domed building itself glowed from within, an alien being whose usual bright lights had been subdued for the evening festivities.

There was no one around to see her as she threaded her way between the vehicles on her path to the rear doors, one of which stood ajar, allowing a triangle of light to escape into the otherwise impenetrable shadows. Someone had obviously propped it open a few inches, probably for ventilation—or to sneak out back for a smoke—and had forgotten to close it. She seriously doubted that there was a guard at the door.

The closer she came to the building, the more clearly she could hear the heavy rap beat. The sound escaped the inadequate confines of steel and glass, undulated through the macadam, and reverberated into her sneakers. Her legs trembled from the unexpected sensation that echoed the quivering in her belly. In her mind's eye, she saw the closely packed bodies crowding the dance floor as the revelers simulated sex to the pulsating rhythm, freak dancing back to front or in sinuously swaying chains, boy-girl-boy-girl. Boy-girl, boy-girl. Loser.

Grimacing, Camila shook her head, chasing away the images—especially one, the one she couldn't bear to imagine but had come to glimpse nonetheless. She'd come to bear witness to her heartbreak with the same irresistible compulsion as an onlooker at an accident scene who cannot glance away from the carnage.

As she had suspected, no guards or even chaperones stood watch at the partially open door. Undoubtedly, the hallway that led from the delivery area in the rear toward the main room was being observed from inside the gymnasium, with the intent of preventing anyone from slipping away for an illicit drink or a taste of forbidden love. Someone slipping in was a different matter. Carefully, Camila sidled through the opening and, keeping close to the wall, crept down the darkened hallway toward the sound of festivities in the far room.

Her path led her to the walkway behind the bleachers, which had been pulled forward to create a seating area for partygoers and staff who needed a break from the jostling crowd.
Crepe hung in gauzy curtains from the ceiling, dampening the illumination. The air in the heart of the building was heavy and hot, thick with the excitement of two hundred celebrants, and Camila quickly shed her jacket and hung it from the end of a riser. In the half-light, she was invisible, and emboldened, she edged around the corner of the stands until she could see what she had come to see.