THIRTEEN
That’s intense.
Cam and me went out for tacos on Tuesday, but things were… different. He hardly talked at all and he wasn’t himself. It’s Friday now and since Tuesday, he hasn’t said one word to me. No texts. No stopping by my dorm room. Nothing. It’s not like him, and it’s starting to worry me.
“What’s wrong?” Dr. Sanchez asks me when I meet her on Friday afternoon. It’s scary that she knows me well enough to know that something is wrong just by looking at me.
“Cam hasn’t talked to me since Tuesday,” I tell her. “Do you think he changed his mind about me? Maybe he doesn’t like me. Maybe he doesn’t think I’m worth the trouble. Maybe he doesn’t need a friend as damaged as me.”
The thought makes me sick to my stomach, but it’s something I’ve worried about since day one. I’m amazed that Cam and Micah wanted to be my friends to begin with.
“Isla, I doubt he feels that way about you,” she says.
“Then why else would he act like that?” I ask. Because up until Monday afternoon, he was completely fine. Maybe he just finally realized how damaged I really am.
“You aren’t the only one with problems.”
“I know that…”
But what problems does Cam have?
I mean, his mom and dad left him. Could that be part of his problem? Something tells me there is more to it than that.
“What do you think Camden’s problems are?” Dr. Sanchez asks me.
“I don’t know,” I answer.
“You opened up to him, right?” she asks.
I nod.
“Then be patient with him. Sometimes you need to make the first move and not always wait for him. Have you ever gone to his dorm room? Or have you ever texted him and asked him if he wanted to hang out?”
“No,” I answer.
“Then try that. The world doesn’t revolve around you. It’s time you start acting like it,” she says.
Wow.
Dr. Sanchez is tough.
But she’s right.
I hate that she’s right.
…
That afternoon, I knock on Cam’s dorm room. I don’t text first to confirm that he’s here. He might be out. But I have to try.
Camden is the one to open the door and he looks surprised to see me.
“You’re going to hang out with me,” I tell him.
“I am?” he asks.
I nod. “We are going to go to that burger place that you told me about.”
“But you don’t eat hamburgers,” he says.
“How do you know that?” I ask. “You know what, it doesn’t matter. I love fries.”
“Fries,” he repeats, then grins. “I don’t even know what to think of you.”
What the heck is that supposed to mean?
I don’t give myself time to process it.
“We’re taking my pink car,” I tell him as he heads out the door.
He groans. “Seriously? That’s not even right. I’m a dude. I can’t ride in a pink car.”
“The pink is starting to grow on me,” I say. “Who knows, maybe someday I will even like the color again.”
“You’re going to be the only mom with a pink minivan driving her kids to soccer practice,” Cam says.
I laugh. “I wouldn’t take this whole scenario that far. Besides, can you see me driving a minivan? Gross.”
“Fine. You’ll have your SUV with twenty inch rims and blacked out windows,” he says. “I can picture it.”
“That’s more like it.”
“Fine. You talked me into riding in your pink car,” Cam says.
Five minutes later, I am putting the top down on my car and turning on my favorite Korean pop song. Cam’s face is red and he looks like he might possibly jump out of my car as it’s moving.
“My man card is being revoked right now,” he says.
“I’m pretty sure that you riding in my pink car makes you a million times more awesome.”
“Then it’s worth it,” he says. “Do you want to know why I am friends with you, Isla?”
“Yeah,” I answer.
“When I first saw you, you were standing by yourself at the bonfire after we won the game against Alabama,” Cam says. “You were just watching people with an intensity I couldn’t figure out. But then you smiled. I’m not even sure what at. But your smile made me feel something. I can’t explain it, nor do I understand it myself, but at that moment, I decided that I would do whatever it took to make you smile like that again everyday for the rest of your life.”
“That’s intense, Cam,” I tell him. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that.”
“You’re not supposed to say anything,” he says. “Because I wasn’t supposed to tell you that yet. Right now, I am very happy being your friend.”
Suddenly, being just a friend to Cam doesn’t sound so bad. Because the thought of being more with him… it’s scary. Camden is the kind of guy who has the ability to break my heart. No, not just break it. Shatter it. There is no coming back from something like that. He would ruin every other guy for me. So, until I truly am ready to be with somebody, I will just ignore my feelings for him. That’s for the best.
“I’m happy being your friend too,” I tell him.
“Let me know if that changes,” he says. “If you’re ever unhappy being my friend.”
“Why would I ever be unhappy as your friend?”
“Just promise me.”
“Okay. I promise.”
But the truth is, I could never, ever get tired of him.
“Do you ever miss your mom and dad?” I ask Cam.
“I don’t even remember my father,” he answers. “And I don’t miss my mom. Not anymore. I used to. I think kids are programed to love their mom no matter how bad she treats them, but now that I’m older I realize just how sick of a person she really is. I forgive her for what she did, but I don’t want to go back around her.”
Interesting.
“Do you miss your dad?” he asks.
“People say that you can’t choose your family, but that’s not true,” I say. “The day that Mom and Stanley got married I met Scott for the first time. We were only twelve years old at the time. Neither of us were happy about the marriage, so we stole the wedding cake. Imagine the two of us carrying this huge cake. I don’t know how nobody noticed. But that day, Scott and I both decided that the marriage didn’t have to be miserable for us. We had each other. I accepted him as my brother, and that has never changed. I love him. I chose him. Sometimes, chosen family is better than blood family. My dad chose another family over me. It sucks, but I don’t let that define me.”
“You’re a strong person, Isla,” Cam says.
“Derek Miller chose me to live. For a long time, I was upset that I got to live while everybody else didn’t. I know families of those kids had to think, why her? Why did he shoot my kid, but not her,” I say. “I don’t know why he didn’t shoot me. Maybe it was because I was nice to him when everybody else picked on him. Or maybe it was something different. But I’m tired of not living. I am choosing to live. I don’t want to be defined by Derek Miller anymore. He is the one who killed my friends, not me. I couldn’t save them.”
“Did you really consider him a friend?”
“Yes, I did. Derek was awesome,” I answer. “I mean, he had issues, like the rest of us, but he was a great friend. He actually came to my sweet sixteen birthday party. He made fun of my car. We laughed and joked. And month later, he killed all my friends. So it’s hard not to let those happy memories with him get mudded down. But yes, Derek Miller was one of my best friends.”
“Don’t lose the happy memories of him,” Cam says. “He shouldn’t be defined by the one bad thing he did. Everybody messes up and makes big mistakes. I know his mistake doesn’t seem like it’s a forgivable one, but I’m sure he would want forgiveness if he were still alive.”
“I know,” I say. “I am working on that. Every single day.”
“Good.”
I pull my car into an empty parking spot, putting the roof up on my car.
“Our conversations are intense today,” Cam says. “Maybe we should talk about happier stuff.”
“Like what?” I ask.
“French fries,” he answers.
What can I say? French fries make the world a much happier place.