A Second Chance at First Impressions (Camila)

[Stephen Paulinski]

     Stephen could not believe his luck with Camila Reyes. Nothing he ever did to her ever turned out the way he wanted it to. He tried to make her feel better after a rough day; she brushed him off. He tried to show her some kind of affection and attention; she turned him down. He tried to completely ignore her; she sliced her hand open with some broken glass. Now, full of sorrow and regret, Stephen tried to escort Camila to the nurse’s office. The only problem? Stephen had no idea where he was going. Nothing ever went the way he wanted it to. It was almost comical, really. Almost. Stephen definitely was definitely not laughing right now. He was about as far from laughing anyone could be at this particular moment.

     The boy silently cursed at himself, whether it was because of his incompetence with direction or recent immaturity he was not entirely sure. All he knew was that he was growing to strongly dislike the person he had become over the past few months. Almost all of his attempts at friendship ended badly, either because of him losing his temper or acting spitefully in one way or another. He continued to guide the bleeding girl down hallways and up and down random staircases as he mulled over his more memorable interactions at Ashford. He could honestly tell himself that he was not proud of one. Kayla, Ashton, Camila. All of those relationships went south because of Stephen’s actions. He shook his head and tried to think of one conversation that did not end poorly, but he could think of none. He was saddened by this revelation, but honestly not surprised. Hell, he had almost gotten into a physical fight even before he officially entered the school, he would have been very surprised if he had made any friends by this point.

     Stephen had not always been like this. He used to be so agreeable. He recalled how easy it used to be for him to make new friends, how easy it was to get people to like him. As he continued to meander in the direction he hoped was the nurse’s office, he asked himself something he had been meaning to get to the bottom of ever since he noticed he had anger issues: when did this all start? He began to retreat into his memories in order to find an answer to his question, but, just as he was about to do so, he felt something hit his shoulder, and he heard an incomprehensible feminine voice. The white-haired youth looked up from the floor he was intently staring at in thought, to the source of the sound. He was greeted by the face of an annoyed Camila. She obviously voiced something to him, but he had been so lost in thought that he did not pick up on anything she had said, save her tone. He definitely heard a sarcastic and annoyed tone escape her lips.

     Oh, great, Stephen thought, dejectedly, What did I mess up, now? A soft scoff escaped his lips. It was not because he thought anything was funny, except for maybe the fact that he was quickly degrading into an abysmal human being with absolutely no social graces. He again began to wonder where he went wrong, how this all started. In an attempt to answer himself, stray thoughts began to burst to the forefront: What if you were always like this and never noticed? What if you will never be able to change? What if you’re a bad person?

     That last thought echoed in his mind. What if you’re a bad person…

     He felt his chest tighten, and he let out a silent gasp for air. He could feel tears welling up behind his eyes, and he could feel his hands begin to itch out of agitation. He did not want to be a bad person. He wanted to be accepted by his peers. He wanted to make friends. He wanted to love and be loved. He just wanted everything to go back the way it was before Ashford; before the incident; before the powers…

     Stephen was about to let go to his emotional outburst when he remembered Camila had tried to talk to him. He remembered how he was supposed to take her to the nurse, so anything she said had to take priority over his pity-party. Stephen steadied his breath and emptied his mind, feeling the pressure behind his eyes recede and the itching sensation on his hands dull. He took another deep breath before opening his mouth. With his eyes trained once again on the linoleum floor, Stephen quietly mumbled, “I’m sorry, do you mind repeating that? I didn’t hear you.”

[Camila Reyes]

Camila did not have much luck to begin with, and it seemed being around other people made it worse. There was a part of her that wanted to be a better, kinder person, but the small voice was drowned out by the louder one that warned her to protect herself and keep her distance. The small voice was starting to make her feel guilty for what she had done; all he had tried to do was help her and all she had done was act like a royal b**** toward him. Her sliced and bleeding hand was her own damn fault, and she would fully admit it. The twinge of guilt in her heart made her shake her head vigorously, trying to dislodge the thought, as if it were some kind of bug stuck in her hair. She tried to pull herself out of her own head by looking around, trying to figure out where they were. She frowned a little, blinking unenthusiastically. Stephen had no idea where he was going, did he? This kid has an awful sense of direction, she thought to herself, a scowl still present on her face as they wandered up and down stone staircases. The comedy of the whole situation made her smirk a little, though it was not for very long.

There had been a time that Camila had been reasonably agreeable. Sure, some people did not like her back then because she could be snarky and sarcastic, but her friends saw her for who she really was, even if they knew zero details about her home life. They never seemed to ask why she always wanted to sleep over at their houses after going to the movies, or carnivals in the summer, or any place they would have had fun, really. She supposed they just assumed that she wanted to be around someone her own age as opposed to a brother that was five years older than her. She never told them about how she was lectured and put down nearly every day. Her only explanation for her grades was “hard work” and “learning outside the classroom”, instead of the true explanation. She did not want to admit that her parents pushed her so hard that she had thought about just giving up several times. Her friends did not need to burden themselves with the knowledge of her family dynamics or the knowledge that she was not like them in more ways then they realized.

All of that had changed when she came to Ashford, though. It seemed as if a switch had just flipped in her brain that suddenly made her defensive and almost rude. Of course, this did happen at her other high school as well, but that was more out of frustration with her parents than of her own free will. It seemed that her arrival on the island had changed her personality and, frankly, she was not sure if she liked it or not. On one hand, not many people bothered her because she seemed so aggressive. But, on the other, she was forced to admit that she was lonely. She had not made very many friends, and for a good reason. Sure, she had semi-normal interactions with Ash, one of the Battle Front trainers, but even those interactions were far and few in between since they were either before or after sessions of trying to beat the crap out of each other. Of course, the sessions were meant to help Camila, and she did feel like she was improving, if only a little bit. She shook her head a little bit, trying to get her thinking back on track. She had met very few people at the school and therefore, she did not really have many friends. Her abrasive attitude and sarcastic comments about other people also did not help her case. She cast a sidelong glance at Stephen, noticing that he seemed to be staring at the ground as he walked. Deep in thought, I guess, she thought to herself, pursing her thin lips together before jogging a little to catch up with him and tapping on his shoulder with her uninjured hand.

“Hey, barbecue, we’ve passed the nurses office twice now… We should go back that way.”

She jerked her thumb behind her, wincing after she realized she had done so with her injured hand. She examined her hand when she retracted it and grumbled to herself when she saw that blood had began leaking out of it again. She cursed at herself and clamped her uninjured hand across the open wound, keeping pressure on it so blood would not spurt out all over her uniform and the floor. The hand that had not been damaged was already covered in a red colored crust that looked more akin to the color of a dried cranberry than crimson. She heard a sharp intake of breath and looked around the hallway for a moment. There was no one else around, so it could not have been anyone but Stephen. Unless I did that and wasn’t aware of it, she thought to herself, looking confused before coming up alongside the young man, who seemed upset for some reason. Her eyebrows furrowed and she swallowed, wondering what she could say to him. After all, he looked deeply troubled about something, but she was not sure if kind words from her of all people would help any. Despite the voice in her head telling her not to say a word, she mumbled to him.

“Hey, don’t blame yourself for this; I’m just a moron. It happens, really. Don’t get all upset over it.”

She chuckled softly and shook her head, giving him a sad smile. Guys really are deaf, aren’t they? she thought to herself, shaking her head as she spoke again, this time louder than before, but not so loud as to be considered screaming. She did not sound irritated, but more joking and sincere than the other times they had interacted.

“Tch, abuela was right, men are deaf… I said that we passed the nurses’ office twice already. We should really head back the way we came. Unless you’d rather me bleed all over the floor and attract some kind of secret cannibal here…”

[Stephen Paulinski]

     Camila’s tone and choice of words caught Stephen completely off guard. Was she… joking with him? He basically caused her to cut her hand open and bleed everywhere, and she was… joking with him?

     Stephen blinked, furrowed his brow and looked at Camila. “Did we, really just walk by the nurse’s office?” Stephen asked, bewildered. “Damn, I really do have no sense of direction, huh?” He ended his sentence with a smirk and a chuckle, hoping to keep the supposed light and happy mood going.

     He looked forward and saw that, indeed, the two of them had passed the nurse’s office. All the way at the end of the hall was a small, white sign that read “Nurse’s Office” in thick, black letters. He gave Camila an awkward smile and pointed towards their destination. “Shall we, then?” he asked as he began to walk towards the room.

     They walked to the room in silence. During the short walk, Stephen continued to reflect internally, eyes on the linoleum. She wasn’t pissed off at him. Why wasn’t she pissed off at him? What was going on? Was she messing with him again? Was she screwing with his emotions again? What was this manipulative, little bruha’s ulterior motive?

     No, Stephen yelled internally, Stop it. Stop playing the victim. She’s not doing anything. She hasn’t done anything. Everything that’s happened has been your fault. You overreacted. You caused this rift. You caused her to hurt herself. Everything has been your fault!

     Stephen began to feel his arms itch as his breath began to quicken. He could feel himself beginning to lose control, again. NO! Stephen was irate with himself. He would not allow himself to do this again. YOU WILL CONTROL YOURSELF! STOP IT! STOP!!!

     WHY SHOULD I?! Stephen’s angry and vindictive side shouted back. WHY SHOULD I STOP? SHE CAUSED ME SO MUCH PAIN. SHE DIDN'T EVER CARE ABOUT ME OR MY FEELINGS. WHY SHOULD I CARE ABOUT HER?!

     BECAUSE, Stephen's rational side retorted, IT ISN’T HER FAULT. IT’S YOURS! NOW STOP! STOP!!!

     Stephen’s rational side continued to scream and curse at his animalistic side until the itching faded and his breath slowed to normal pace. Stephen took a deep breath and smiled a bit. His rational side had one out. For now...

     Now man the f*** up and try to fix this…

     “I’m sorry!” Stephen blurted out, turning to look at Camila. “For everything,” he said a bit more timidly, his eyes drifting away from her. He couldn’t look at her; he didn’t want her to see him begin to tear up. He had been such a jerk to her. How could he face her? How could she ever forgive him. Frankly, he thought with a sigh, I wouldn’t be surprised if she never wants to speak to me again...

[Camila Reyes]

Camila blinked a little bit, raising an eyebrow at the surprise on Stephen’s face. Joking was something she did quite often, so why was he so surprised? In his defense, though, her jokes had always seemed to be at his expense, but, it was that way with everyone, so what was the difference, exactly? The self-aware side of herself knew why she was going to great lengths to push them apart, but she would never let that side get her chance to speak. If she did, she would have to admit that she had a wider range of emotions, which would cause all kinds of problems with not only her powers, but herself as well. She was not going to let people use her and walk all over her again. She was going to maintain her distance and keep friends where they belonged, at a slight distance. She would not tell them anything about her past, but she supposed sharing her aspirations with someone might be a good start, despite the fact that she really had no one to share them with. She glanced at her hand, which was stained a cranberry red with dried and crusted blood. His words brought her out of her preoccupation with stifling the bleeding and hoping that bacteria did not worm their way into the wound. She was not really keen on the idea of having an infection; it meant longer recovery time, which meant less time for keeping up her schoolwork.

“Sorry, dude, but your sense of direction is probably the worst I’ve ever seen. And that’s saying something, considering Ale used to get lost trying to find the bathroom in a place where we’d been plenty of times…”

The very mention of her older brother made her let out an annoyed huff of breath. Oh yeah, that a**hole, she thought bitterly, nodding stiffly to Stephen as she stepped into the nurses’ office. As if they had smelled the blood, the nurses all dashed at Camila at once. She threw her hands up, cursing in Spanish as the wound, once again, started bleeding. Idiota… She wiggled uncomfortably as the medical professionals crowded around her and started to clean and stitch her wound shut. She kept her lips and eyes clamped shut the entire time, cursing her luck in her head. If you wouldn’t have done such a stupid thing, you wouldn’t be in this damn situation, she chided herself, hissing as the nurse tied off the stitches and let her hand go. She snatched it back, glaring at the scurrying nurses before leaning backward. ‘Thwack!’ Her head hit the back rails of the bed and she winced slightly, rubbing the back of her scalp with her “good” hand. She cursed again, a little louder this time, and sighed, clamping her teeth together. She had to admit, the stitches hurt like a b**** and she did not like having them one bit; however, she also knew that such a deep gash would not heal properly unless the wound was closed properly. It was only after she could get past the thousands of pain signals shooting up to her brain that she noticed Stephen staring at the floor. She raised an eyebrow and was about to extend her arm to poke him lightly, but she was stopped by his sudden apology.

“Hey, there’s no need for you to apologize. I was the one who was a b****... If there’s anyone who should be apologizing, it’s me.”

A soft, apologetic smile was stretched across her lips, though it was slightly strained. She was not used to apologizing, but the more mature side of her had won out, in the end. She swallowed loudly, turning her sapphire eyes to the ground as a small blush spread across her cheeks. Sure, she had felt guilty before, but, for some reason, this was the first time it actually mattered. After a few moments, she glanced at the clock and sighed softly. They had spent most of the period wandering around, so it was almost time for their next class. Of course, Camila was probably going to stay in the nurses’ office until the end of the period that was going to start. She pushed herself up with both hands, wincing when her stitched palm hit the scratchy sheets of the bed. After taking a deep breath and exhaling, she managed to stretch another strained grin across her face.

“Hey, the period’s going to end soon. You should go. ‘Wouldn’t want you to be late, right?”

[Stephen Paulinski]

     She… Apologized… Stephen could not wrap his head around it. She… A-apologized… It’s not that he was expecting her to be mean, it’s just that he felt that everything that had happened between him was because of his immaturity. A furrow in his brow accompanied his confusion. Her smile confused Stephen even further. She’s… actually sorry… She cast her eyes down at the ground, obscuring her face from his vision. It was at this point that Stephen felt like he should say something. “Hey, don’t worry about it, alright?” he flashed a kind smile, then realized that she wasn’t looking. After retracting his smile, he continued. “It’s all water under the bridge, now, okay?”

     When she raised her head, Stephen flashed another warm smile. It turned to a slight frown when she quickly looked in another direction. “Hey, are you alright?” he asked. Why is she acting so funny all of a sudden? Why the change of heart? A small smile crept across his lips. Maybe, he thought happily, Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. His heart glowed as he made his next realization. Maybe we can start over…

     Camila’s strained face made Stephen’s heart skip a beat. After she stated the time, Stephen grabbed her injured hand gingerly by the sides and said in a worried tone, “Hey, hey, be careful. You’re gonna open it up, again...” He didn’t like it when she was hurt, especially when he was to blame. He couldn’t stand to see her be hurt. He…

     Was still holding her hand, wasn’t he?

     His eyes snapped down towards his hands. He was, indeed still gingerly holding Camila’s hand with his own. He quickly let go of it, averting his eyes from hers as he began to blush profusely. “Duh-I… um…” he stammered, before saying quietly after a nervous giggle and an awkward smile, “I guess I better get going, huh?”  After another awkward chuckle, "Lord knows I'll be in a world of trouble if I'm late to class again..."

     God dammit, Steve, Stephen thought sadly, Just when we were starting to make up, I just had to go and make things awkward...

[Camila Reyes]

Camila was honestly tired of wasting her energy putting up a front. Her strategy of trying to keep people away was making her lonely on the inside, though she would not dare tell anyone. Subtlety was not often her specialty, but she supposed that all the ill-will between the two of them could slowly be resolved, right? It sure could be, but that did not mean that she had any feelings for him! Well, okay, maybe she did, but they were more of the feelings that accompanied an acquaintance or, much to her chagrin, a friend. It was about time that she made another friend on the island. After all, she was clearly going to be stuck in that prison for a while, so maybe it would do her some good to at least keep some people close, even if it was only a few people. The trick now was trying to get Stephen to forgive her. If someone could break down her walls, she could be a very forgiving person, but, when it came to other people, she had no idea how they would react to things until they reacted. All she could do was hope that he was not the type of person to hold a grudge. Maybe barbecue boy had a short fuse, but he hardly seemed mean. Nevertheless, she did not expect anything, because she preferred to be pleasantly surprised, and she was when he told her not to worry about it. Her head turned in his direction and she looked utterly baffled for a few moments. He was forgiving her? She had been nothing but horrible to him; she had built up his hopes only to have them crushed again. How could someone forgive someone else for doing such a thing? She could not, that was for sure. Maybe… He’s just a better person than I am, she thought, keeping her sapphire eyes trained to the floor. She looked up at him when he stated it was all “water under the bridge” and smiled weakly at him. She was glad to hear such kind words from someone she had wronged.

“T-thanks. T-that means a lot…”

The warm smile made her blink, as if she did not recognize what she was seeing. I didn’t expect to find such kindness in a place like this, she thought, A pleasant surprise, I suppose. A small smile danced across her lips, but she let it fall when she saw the time. Of course it was almost time for the next class to start! Granted, she could have gotten the nurse to write her a pass to get out of said class. It would certainly spare her a period of boredom and just listening to the teacher while other students whispered questions amongst themselves instead of asking the person who had the degree in the subject they were trying to transmit to the future generation. Regardless, she had decided that she was going to force herself onto the next class. After all, it was almost the end of the day; she could suffer through a few more periods of pain before relaxing her newly-stitched hand.

“A-ah? Yeah… Just internally lamenting the fact that we have to go back to class after this, heh.”

Her eyes widened when she felt his hands cradling her own. The small blush that seemed to only cover her cheeks a moment ago spread across her entire face, making it clear that she was embarrassed. What was he doing? They had literally just made up a few seconds ago and he was already touching her? The worst part was, she did not know why she had not punched him already. If anyone else had done that, they would have been doubled over in pain. And yet, there he was, gingerly holding her hand and telling her to be careful, like they were friends or something. Were they friends? Honestly, she was not even sure, though she was a little terrified. She did not mind it one bit. She shook her head; it was nothing. He was just being a nice person, and maybe, just maybe, they were starting over and becoming friends. That was if her attitude did not drive him away, but that remained to be seen. She seemed relieved when he let go, but confused when he started blushing and stammering. She had to stifle a sigh. Please don’t tell me that now we don’t hate each other anymore, he’s gonna start hitting on me, she thought, itching her nose with her “good” hand to distract him from her confused facial expression. She snickered a little, giving him a small and soft smile as she joked.

“I hear that… Maybe I’ll get going too. If I don’t show up to my next class, the teacher will be convinced there’s no hope for our generation.”

Camila grabbed her backpack and struggled to sling it over her shoulder, wincing as the stitches pulled at her skin. She breathed out slowly before turning to him and giving him a small, weak smile. She gestured for him to leave first, following behind him down the halls until she reached the classrooms she needed to be in. Camila gave Stephen a small, friendly grin before glancing at the room number. She said her parting words, then walked into the classroom and sat down, just in time for the bell.

“W-well, this is my stop. S-see ya’ around, barbecue boy.”

[Stephen Paulinski]

     Seeing as he wasn’t a masochist, Stephen smiled internally when Camila didn’t punch his lights out. His happiness turned to bemusement when Camila blushed at his touch instead of punching him. He was confused as to why she reacted that way. Do friends react like this when hands are touch? he asked himself. Seeing her blush, combined with his prolonged hand-holding led him to blush as well. Was he falling for her, again? No, not again, he berated himself. You guys just made up. Nothing’s going to happen…

     Right…?

     Stephen shook the thought from his mind just in time to see Camila gesture towards the door. His heart fluttered with happiness as he realized that Camila was making an effort to spend time with him. With a smile, Stephen did a dramatic bow. “Thank you, miss Reyes,” he said in a regal accent before walking out the door in a jokingly pompous way.

     Their walk through the halls was a quiet one. It wasn’t a bad sort of quiet, however. It was a comfortable one; one that didn’t feel like it needed to be filled with conversation. Stephen had never experienced such a silence before, and he would come to find that he would never experience such a silence with anyone except her.

     Stephen smiled as she gave him her parting words. Her pet name echoed around in his mind for a few seconds. Barbecue boy. He smiled. He could get used to that name. He gave her a little salute and a smile. “Yeah,” he said in reply, “See you soon, bru-” He stopped himself. Camila didn’t deserve to be called “bruja,” anymore. She deserved a proper pet name. Something cute, like what she came up for him, but nothing flirty. He didn’t want to send the wrong message. Unable to think of what to call her, he simply finished his sentence with, “Camila.” He figured that her name was perfectly fine. He could think of nothing else that suited her more perfectly.

     He stood at the doorway for a few seconds smiling at her before his mind processed that the bell had just rung. His eyes grew wide, and his blood went cold, as hard reality came crashing down on his happy moment. “Aw, s***!” he muttered, turning on his heel, and running down the hall as fast as he could, “I’m gonna be late, again!”