Camilla found herself so enamoured and adrift in her book that she didn’t notice the chatter of the group of girls in front of her desk.
“Look, just get my number down,” said one of the girls.
“Okay, just give me a minute to find a pen,” replied the other.
The young girl patted herself down, looking for a writing instrument. She started for the opening of her backpack before darting her head towards Camilla’s desk. Next to the large book Camilla had propped up to read, sat an open case of colored pencils and pens. Some fully sharpened, some stubby and barely usable, but still a large enough amount of pens and pencils that one might not necessarily be missed should it be gone.
“Hey,” the girl in the ponytail exclaimed towards Camilla.
Camilla shot her eyes up to acknowledge the girl. A very thick layer of apathy and disinterest exuded from the expression on Camilla’s face, but the girl in the ponytail didn’t seem to notice.
“Could I borrow one of these?,” she inquired.
Camilla’s eyes darted towards the open pencil case, and then back to the girl and then promptly back to the book.
“Um… no.”
“Oh, come on. It’ll just take a second, I swear.”
The ponytail girl begane to reach for one of the pencils, wholeheartedly expecting Camilla to change her mind. In a blink, Camilla whipped her hand up and slapped the cover of the pencil case down, nearly trapping the girl’s finger inside it. Camilla slid the closed case away from them and placed it into the pocket of her hoodie.
“Um, no. These are mine.”
The three girls stared at each other. Camilla continued to read her book, offering no other response to them outside of her outright rejection. Recognizing this, the trio pulled up their backpacks and walked away, not without shooting the young reader an offended look from over their shoulders.
Camilla was finally snatched away from the fantasy land of the book when the school bell rang over her. Her face lit up. The ringing of the bell today didn’t just symbolize the end of school. Camilla stuffed her book and the other renegade school supplies from her desk into her backpack and bolted from the classroom.
Making her way through the crowded middle school hallway and onto the parking lot, Camilla crossed the street and headed for the bus stop just as the bus pulled up. Finding one of the empty seats on the packed bus, the young girl plopped herself down and whipped out her cellphone. Camilla was so fixated on her phone, that she didn’t notice the pregnant woman walking towards the seat next to her. Camilla tossed her heavy backpack onto the empty seat; the pregnant woman glared at her as she made her way to the back of the bus.
Camilla plugged in her headphones and began to listen. On the phone was a live broadcast of an event that Camilla had been anticipating for months. An older woman in a dress suit stood with a microphone in her hand. Behind her, a long line of people winded out of a large bookstore, all with excited looks on their faces. The female newscaster began to speak.
“Hello, My name is Linda Blanchard with News 5 and I am standing here outside of Boundary’s bookstore, at the signing of one of today’s most popular children’s book series, Tales of the Puzzleworlds. Written and illustrated by world famous author Arnold Emerson, the Puzzleworld books have touched the hearts of children and adults alike with their stories of magical kings and queens ruling and traveling through various fantasy worlds. With reports of Emerson’s recent health issues, there was a bit of concern that the most recent volume would be delayed, but Emerson, not being one to disappoint his fans, has come through yet again with a great piece of work. ”
The broadcast cut to the inside of the store as the eager fans at the front made it to the author’s table. The camera closed in on the face of the man giving out the autographs. Arnold Emerson sat in his chair at his table, not only giving out autographs but also very kind smiles. Everything about the elderly man screamed “friendly”from his round build, to his pudgy arms, to the small glasses that hung from his button nose and framed his plump cheeks. Camilla beamed at the image of the portly, older gentleman on her screen. She knew better than anyone else that his kind nature went much further than any superficial looks.
The bus finally pulled in front of the store. Camilla broke from the bus and began sprinting towards the bookstore doors. Her long, messy, raven hair beat across her beige, sunburned face, the headband she wore doing very little to keep it completely out of her eyes. After a strong amount of shoving and pushing, she finally made her way to the front of Arnold’s desk. The stout author stared at her past his glasses. He offered her a smile like he had with everyone else, but this one had a small air of scolding in it.
“Hey Grandpa,” Camilla offered.
“Hello sweetheart,” Arnold replied.
Her grandpa then pointed very sternly behind Camilla to draw her attention to something. She turned to see a small number of very upset young people with books in their hands. The people that Camilla had shoved and muscled her way past were the remaining number of fans who had been waiting all morning, and they were none to pleased to have had their time cut into by this strange girl who had nearly knocked them down.
Her grandpa waved his hand to the side, motioning Camilla to move. The young girl clicked her teeth and rolled her eyes, but obliged to her grandpa’s wishes. She swerved around the table and took a seat right next to him, watching as he went on signing books. Her grandpa then proved himself to be quite the multitasker; as he signed books, he then took a quick motion of his hand and reached under the table. He brought up with him what he knew Camilla had come for; a fresh, unsigned copy of the new book. Camilla grinned and plucked the book from his hand. She left him to his signing and scurried off to one of the tables in the bookstore’s coffee shop.
Another hour or so passed before Camilla’s grandpa finished his signing. He walked over to where Camilla sat in the coffee shop. She swung her legs back and forth gleefully as she read.
“Can’t believe you added a map.”
“Well, of course I added a map,” her grandpa explained. “Without a map how would my readers know how long it takes to get from Solaris to Gnaritas? Or which train gets you from Deniz to Caela the fastest? You gotta think about this stuff!”
Camilla giggled. Her grandpa could always make her laugh or smile, it was one of the reasons she insisted on spending so much time with him. Whether it was in his office, watching him write the next story in his series or in his art studio, watching him paint the breathtaking pictures that would accompany the words, Camilla found a great sense of calm around him.
“Now, come on. I told your mom I’d get you home before dinner.”
Camilla turned her head back down into her book. She didn’t want him to see the wide grimace that spread over her face. Camilla enjoyed spending time with her grandpa in the most ordinary of times, but there was a reason that she insisted on spending more time with him than usual.
“Do we have to go… right now?,” Camilla inquired. Camilla’s grandpa replied with an “mm-hmm” and a slow, hesitant nod. “Can we at least take the long way?”
The sun was setting in cloudy rays of marigold and crimson behind the large violet mountains that encircled the town. Camilla always found twilight peaceful . It seemed to have just the right amount of buzz from the rest of the day, but still the calm and quite that was coming in the night. She rested her chin on the arm she placed over the car’s open window and watched as the houses of her neighborhood flew by.
Had this been any other day, Camilla would’ve cherished the time riding shotgun with her grandpa through the dusk covered neighborhood, but knowing what might be waiting for her at home was impairing her good mood. The whole time there she hoped, hoped, and hoped that her bad expectations would be proven wrong, but those hopes were quickly dashed when her grandpa pulled in front of her house.
“Oh no,” Camilla spat. “It’s them.” Camilla deposited every once of vitriol and hostility her twelve year old body could muster into the word “them”. Sitting behind her mother’s humble, demure, orange SUV was a large, honking, unwelcome station wagon. Camilla stayed in the car, very seriously debating with herself on whether to get out or not.
“Come on, kiddo,” her grandpa offered. “You’re going to have to get used to them sooner or later.”
“Later would be better,” she mumbled.
Seeing no other option, Camilla hesitantly exited her grandpa’s car. As soon as Camilla’s feet hit the pavement, her grandpa started coughing. It started off small, but then turned into a bit of a fit, tears pooling in his eyes as his breath grew shallower. He tried to roll out a farewell for his granddaughter, but it kept getting lost in the cacophony of hacking and whooping sounds.
“Take care of yourself sweetie,” he finally mustered through a choked voice.
“You too, Grandpa,” Camilla replied. She didn’t want to leave her grandpa alone in this state anymore than she wanted to go in the house by herself, but she couldn’t think of a way to resolve either or those issues. “And don’t forget to take your medicine.”
Her grandpa tossed another affirming smile at her before driving off, leaving her alone on the sidewalk in front of her house. The knot in Camilla’s stomach at having to deal with the strangers in her house wasn’t dispelled by the new one forming from her worry over her grandpa’s health. The two feelings actually made quite good friends with each other inside Camilla’s belly as she turned and walked up the lonely concrete expanse that lead to her front door.
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