24

EMBER

In twelfth grade, I participated—suffered—through a class called Vectors and Calculus II. Today, I'm in a class called CALC 1290: Calculus for Engineers. It's half as long, twice as hard, and equally as pointless. I haven't questioned my major so much as I have in the last week--since that idiotic night at the drive in. Everything feels more wrong since then. It was all my fault. The running away, the park napping, the yelling, the hospital, and the bitter end. But I didn't care until now. There's something I have to do. I don't quite know what, but...something. Something that will—

"What are you doing, Chappy?"

I clear my throat and close my laptop. "Nothing."

"Were those super secret codes?"

"No absolutely not. There were not that."

"Wait—don't go." Nes rests a hand on my shoulder as I try to get up. "We still haven't talked since...you know."

I stare at everything but Vanessa--our messy living room filled with dishes, pizza boxes and pop cans, the slightly-tidier kitchenette where our porcelain and drinking glasses rest, and the off-white walls, bare and scuffed from years of students moving in and out of this room.

"Shouldn't we talk?" says Nes, patting my shoulder.

"I already told you everything," I say, shifting out of her reach. "He found me in a park, I fell so we went to the hospital, then he walked me here. Nothing interesting."

Nes scoffs, smoothing the golden waves over her shoulders. She studies the partially-healed stitches right beside the scar that was already there--the scar from the day Greyson overdosed on pain meds.

"Sounds pretty interesting to me," says Nes.

"You could have seen it all first-hand if you didn't leave," I snap, standing with my computer. "But you did." 

I head towards my room.

"We're not the ones who left!" Nes expels. "You ran away, Ember! You got too comfortable, and what--that was it?! You go cry in the dark?!"

I turn around.

Nes swallows, shifting on her feet. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"Yeah you did."

"I'm just sad because I don't know anything about you!" Nes shouts. "Noor and I left that night because there's only so much we can do before giving up. Maybe we'll just co-exist in this place." She gestures around our suite. "I'm coming to terms with that, Ember. I really am."

I clench my jaw. "Don't you need to be friends with everyone?"

Nes lifts her chin. "People who make snap-judgments aren't my type of people."

I scowl. "How kind. Don't you have some stupid geek class to get to?"

"Don't you?" she retorts, a hand on her hip.

I huff and stomp to my room, slamming the door.

"Run away!" Nes yells. "Just hide away from the world! I'm sure that will work out really great for you!"

I cover my ears and hope the shrill screeching ends. And hell, I really hope that's not what I sound like when I raise my voice.

Eventually, Nes stops trying.

I sit gingerly on my unmade bed in the room that continuously feels like the walls will close one day, trapping me.

Opening my laptop, the baking recipes pop back up.

Chocolate chip cookies—too common.

Devil's food cake—too rich. 

Sticky buns—too much time.

Everything else requires materials I don't have access to in my dorm.

This can't be impersonal. It needs to matter if I'm doing this for the right reasons, and I'm still not sure I am.

I shut the laptop. 

I stand.

Suddenly, I know where I have to go.

❀❀

Skyfall is busy this Friday morning, and the only thing that passes through my mind as I shove my way through the crowd is please don't let him be here. 

It's a long shot, but here's my plan: find Cameron, avoid Michael.

I look around for almost ten minutes before getting irritated with the small children running around my legs. My face starts to feel hot and tight.

I give up. On my way out, someone grabs my shoulder and yanks me backwards.

"Chapman!" exclaims Cameron, pulling me in for a hug I didn't anticipate. 

I shove him away from me, jaw clenched.

He rubs the back of his neck. "Sorry," he chuckles, "my bad. Boundaries."

I pull down my tee-shirt, exhaling. "I was actually looking for you. Is Michael here?"

Cameron beams, pointing to his broad, thick chest. "You were looking for me?!"

"Is Michael here?" I repeat, trying to keep him on track. He's like a dog surrounded by squirrels.

He shakes his head, shoulder length, shiny black hair swaying. "He's in class. He has—"

"Good," I say, cutting him off. "Can we go somewhere more private please?"

Cameron blushes, splotches of red erupting on his neck and by his ears. "Uh..." He chokes on air. "Um...wh—what...

"What's wrong? Are you choking?" I walk closer. "I don't know the Heimlich maneuver."

He swallows like he's in pain and won't look at me. "I, uh, I kinda definitely don't think of you like that and I couldn't do that to Mikey even—"

"Okay stop." I hold a hand up. "I'm here to talk. About Michael." I look around as busy bodies walk among us. Quieter, I add, "I'm here to right a wrong."

"Yeah Michael told me you were kind of, like, mean or something? I can't remember shit. I was baked, dude."

I blink. "Yeah. Can we just go please?"

Cameron purses his lips, nodding. "Sure, sure. Follow me."

He leads me around and through and up and down until we end up in a small office full of papers and computers that smells like must and mothballs.

"You can sit," Cameron says, gesturing to a chair buried in a stack of papers. He sits in one that spins. He smiles at me, tucking his hair behind his ears.

"I'm fine," I reply, cracking my knuckles. "I just need your help with something."

"Cool," says Cameron, spinning around in his chair like a kid.

"I need, uh..." I trail off, wondering how to phrase this. "What's he like?"

"Who's like what?" Cameron spins around, head towards the ceiling.

Don't get mad. Just relax.

I blow out a breath. "Michael. I'm talking about Michael."

"Oh! Yeah, he's pretty good-looking, eh?" He wiggles his eyebrows as he goes round.

"What..." I shake my head. "No, that's not what I mean. I need information. What are his favourite things? Does he like sugar? Does he have a dog? Where was he born? What's his family like? Just give me something useful, please."

Cameron stops suddenly, narrowing his eyes at me. "Hm."

I roll my eyes. "What now?"

"You're suspicious."

"How the hell am I suspicious?!"

He hits the desk in front of him then points at me. "State your case! Are you or are you not planning a targeted assassination on my best friend?!"

My eyes go wide. "Are you insane?!"

Cameron spreads his arms out. "You didn't answer the question! Much suspicious!"

I actually face palm. 

"I will protect Mikey with my dying breath! So if you're a secret assassin then I'll—"

"I'm not an assassin!" I burst. "I'm trying to be a good person and bake something for—"

"BLACK WIDOW!" Cameron screams, jumping up. The chair keeps on spinning. "THAT'S WHO YOU REMINDED ME OF! THE BEST AVENGER!"

I stagger back, hitting the wall. "You're insane," I breathe out. "Clinically insane."

He laughs. "Wow! That's actually been bugging me. It's the hair, I think. Very Widow-y."

"O-kay..." I say slowly, side-stepping against the wall until I find the doorknob, keeping my eyes on Cameron. "I'm going to go now."

"Oslo," Cameron says, sitting back down. "Mikey was born in Oslo. No, he doesn't have a dog, but he, like, really wants one. One with fur, preferably." A piece of black hair falls into his eye so he blows it upwards. "I can't remember your other questions."

With a pinched brow, I nod a few times. "No, that's good. Uh, thanks, Cameron. That was actually helpful." I open the door and—

"I was born in Hangzhou," says Cameron. "That's in China by the way."

I turn back around. "I know that."

"Me and Mikey both have duel-citizenship."

"Okay. I'm going to go n—"

"We're pretty cool, right?" Cameron beams at me, such pride shining in his smile.

I nod, and inhale a large breath. "Right. Thanks for your help, Cameron."

He nods with a wink.

I'm halfway out the door before I stop and turn back around.

"Don't, uh, don't tell Michael I was here, okay?" I bite my bottom lip. "Just between us."

"So I shouldn't tell him you're going to buy him a dog?"

"Cameron, I'm not going to buy him a dog."

He seals his lips like a zipper and winks again. "Right."

"Cameron, I'm not." I shake my head, astounded at this man-boy. "I'm not buying him anything."

He squints, grinning. "Yes."

"Dude!"

"Dude."

I walk out, leaving to the sound of Cameron humming the Avengers main theme.

Time to hit the nearest grocery store and do what might be the only thing that comes naturally anymore.

I'm going to bake.

A/N

Vote vote vote if you're enjoying the story!

Aw, I kind love Cam. He's like a small child between the ages of 7-11.

Okay, if you had to kill off one character in this book thus far who would it be?

Who would it definitely not be?

Thank you for being here ❤️ 

-Laurel