6:59 (23 page)

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At 7:05 am, I heard the front door from across the street shut again. It had to be Cameron.

“Cameron?” I called after I'd pulled open my window. I stared down at him as he moved away from his car.

“Hi, Olive,” he said with a gentle smile. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?” He was dressed but he looked so disheveled.

“Yeah,” I said slowly as I checked him out. His shoes were untied, his shirt wasn't straightened out and his belt wasn't even buckled right. He looked like he was in a hurry or something. “What's going on? Where are you rushing to?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

“I'm going to pick up Anjolie,” he said simply. “I don't want to be late.”

“School starts in half an hour,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “Anjolie lives, like, ten minutes that way,” he pointed to the left, “and school's, like, ten minutes that way.” He pointed to the right. “I have to hurry.”

I just stared at him and he stared back at me patiently. Any other guy would have jumped into his car, blowing me off, but Cameron just waited in case I had something else to say. He was so sweet.

I imagined him being sweet towards Anjolie and nearly gagged.

“Can I come, too?” I asked, the idea springing into my head. No way did I want my boyfriend in a car with that needy girl. Knowing Cameron, he'd probably fall right into the palm of her greedy hands.

Cameron nodded quickly. “Yeah,” he said with a cheery voice. “Of course! But you have to get down here quickly.” He discreetly checked his phone for the time.

I nodded at him and shut my window, grateful that I'd already gotten ready for school and was just busy watching TV to pass the time. I grabbed my backpack and yellow sweatshirt and bounded out the front door in less than a minute.

I trotted across the street and jumped into his arms. He stumbled backward but circled his arms around my waist, returning the hug. “You're happy,” he said into my hair.

I nodded, inhaling his scent deeply. He smelled like Cam. “Did you have time to shower?” I asked him, pulling away.

Cameron shook his head. “Not today,” he sighed. “Someone — most likely Cam — got into my stuff and ruined half my closet. I had to waste time arranging things and finding something decent to wear.”

As I climbed into the passenger seat, I said, “But it's only been, like, five minutes. That's not wasting time.”

Cameron started the car and sped away from his house. “Five minutes is way too long for me. In the morning I could choose from one of three things to do, I could eat, shower, or dress.” He held up a finger for each activity. “If I eat, I'd have to go to school in my boxers or whatever Cam was wearing the night before. If I shower, I'd have only thirty seconds, like, a minute — tops — to get on some dry clothes and head out.” He turned the wheel sharply and pressed on the accelerator. “So I usually just wash my face and hair in the sink, throw on clothes, and jam a waffle into my mouth on the go.”

“But now, since you take Anjolie to school, you have practically no time to do those things,” I said.

“I just hop out of bed, pull on clothes, and run out of the house.”

I nodded and looked out of the window, anger welling up inside me. Doesn't Anjolie know what she's doing? Cameron's not a normal person. Why was she making him suffer just so she didn't have to walk the twenty-five minutes to school? She's so selfish!

Cameron noticed my hardened face and grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly in his. “Your mad face is the cutest thing I've ever seen,” he said gently, smiling crookedly. “It always has been. But you don't have to be mad about this. I
choose
to pick her up so my rushing in the morning doesn't bother me.”

“It bothers
me
,” I muttered, but smiled at him anyway.

His smile widened, taking over his face as he kissed my fingers. He kept my fingers pressed to his lips, his smile still plastered on his face, until we finally reached Anjolie's house.

It was a normal-looking two-story, the color of sand with dark red trim. The grass was green and looked lived-in, unlike the grass in my neighborhood which looked as if it were sprayed with green-colored starch. There were chalk drawings on her driveway and a few toys were scattered in the bushes or around the lawn. A weathered basketball hoop hung loosely from above the dented garage and a tiny blow-up pool was flung onto the huge tree standing tall next to the house.

“All this time I thought Anjolie would've lived in a fortress or castle,” I snorted, nodding at the house.

Cameron didn't respond — he was busy clearing the backseat of his music sheets and whatnot.

When the door opened, Anjolie emerged wearing a white tank top and dark gray ripped jeans. Her wild white-blond hair was pulled back into a thick curly ponytail, blond ringlets framing her slender face.

She trotted up to the car, smiling at Cameron. Cameron smiled back and motioned her to the backseat. That's when I took the opportunity to lean forward in my seat and wave at her.

Anjolie actually stopped, confusion in her eyes. But then she quickly snapped out of it and smiled at me. When she climbed into the backseat she immediately greeted me. “Hey, Olive, what's up?”

I didn't look back at her. “Nothing,” I said flatly.

I could hear the smile in her voice. “I usually say the sky or the sun, but I guess that technically nothing really is up, huh?”

When I didn't answer, Cameron did. “I beg to differ. So much is up including the sky and sun. There's also tall trees, and birds, and clouds. And sometimes even rain.” He pressed on the accelerator, speeding through the neighborhood. “There're also moods, and temperatures, and the stock market. Anything could be up if you really think about it.”

“Wow, Sloane,” Anjolie said. “Aren't
you
the pensive thinker.” She laughed.

Cameron shrugged. “I read somewhere that if you have deep conversations, you'll be a happier person.”

“Is that right?” Anjolie said, sifting through her bag. “Well sign me up for that. I need to be a much happier person.”

I took this opportunity to speak. “Why, Anjolie?” I asked, turning around in my seat to face her.

She looked up from the music sheets in her backpack. Then she sighed, shaking her head. “Well, given my circumstances, I don't think anyone would want to live my life. I wouldn't wish it on anyone.”

Oh, great. A sob story. I reluctantly ventured further. “What do you mean?” I asked.

“It's complicated,” she said, zipping her bag and lining up the many sheets in her hand. “The whole Gray Eyes thing wears me out. That and living with my family.”

“Why don't you just stop?” I asked, slightly irritated.

“Stop what?” Anjolie asked. “Doing missions that my idiot Gray Eyes don't do? Or just stop living at my
home
?” She snorted, sitting back in her seat. “It's kinda hard to stop either of them.”

“Why can't you just tell the idiots who don't do their job to do it?” I asked.

“I do,” she said. “I
always
do. But they never listen.” She was implying Cam — I knew that. But I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of telling her that.

“Is it so hard to just do the missions yourself?” I asked, realizing that my voice was a little more bitter than necessary — but I really didn't care.

Anjolie stared at me. She seemed to notice the hostility in my voice. “Missions are assigned to different people for a reason, judging on what type of person could get the job done the quickest and easiest. When my idiots flake, I put myself in danger and I have no one to rescue me.”

“Is that why you always call Cam to help you?” I blurted before I even knew what I was going to say.

“What?” Cameron and Anjolie asked me at the same time, both of their piercing eyes — gray and blue — gazing at me in confusion.

“Who told you that?” Anjolie asked.

No turning back now. I decided to play my conversation with Cam out easily as if it was no big deal. “Cam told me that you call him a lot to help you.” I shrugged to make my words seem more nonchalant.

“When?” Cameron asked, narrowing his eyes at me.

“Last night.” Straightforward and simple.

Cameron kept glancing between me and the road, struggling to find words. Before he could utter something, Anjolie spoke. “Cam is an idiot. He doesn't know what he's talking about.” I could hear the disgust in her voice, which was odd given that she was apparently in love with him. “I only call that idiot because he's stronger and lives much closer than any other Gray Eyes I know.”

“But he said that he wasn't as strong because he's only half Gray Eyes,” I said, my eyebrows furrowing.

“What? When?” Cameron asked, glancing at me again. He looked almost pained.

I scratched my chin, avoiding his eyes. “A couple nights ago.”

Silence in the car. Cameron pulled into the school parking lot and slowed as he tried to find a parking space in the already filled parking lot.

“Cam is a liar, okay?” Anjolie said, pulling her bag onto her slender shoulders as Cameron pulled into a parking space. “He's stronger than most of them. I don't know why, but he is. He just annoys me so much!”

What? How could the person you're in love with annoy you so much? That didn't sit right with me.

Before I realized what I was saying, I blurted, “But I thought you loved him.”

“
What
?” Anjolie cried out harshly. “
Did that idiot tell you that
?” Her blazing gray eyes frightened me. “Y-yes,” I stammered, removing my seatbelt. I couldn't quite look her in the eye so I settled for her pulsating neck.

“
I
do not love Cam and I never have
,” she snapped, her fingers actually turning into claws. “I can't believe that idiot keeps telling people that! We hooked up
once
, like, two years ago in a tiny motel room after drinking all night. I barely remember that night — I was so drunk. And now he thinks I'm in love with him? He's so full of himself!” She opened the car door and leapt out. Before she marched away, she looked back and handed Cameron the music sheets in her hands. “This is the song Fuller wants us to do Friday for the Homecoming presentation. Everyone's staying after school to practice.”

Cameron nodded, taking the papers and pushing them into his backpack. He jumped out of the car, shut the door, and walked around the front of the car to open my door — like a gentleman.

But he didn't say anything as I stepped out the car. We both walked up the steps, hand-in-hand, but still Cameron said nothing. I didn't know what was bothering him.

“Are you okay, Cameron?” I asked finally before we entered our first period classroom.

Cameron clenched his jaw and sighed. When his eyes finally met mine, he said quietly, “I don't know Cam personally. But I do know how bad a guy he is. My dad's told me, Mila's told me, Armando, Anjolie, and Monica
all
told me.” He looked up and nodded at a friend that walked by. Then his eyes were on mine once again. “I just don't think he's a good guy for you to be hanging around, especially when I can't be there to protect you.”

“You don't have to protect me,” I snorted. What was this? The eighteenth century? I don't need protecting. Come on. “And Cam isn't all that bad. He's actually pretty cool.”

“Still, Olive. Still,” Cameron said, gazing severely into my eyes. “Don't hang around him. Please.”

I didn't respond. All I did was kiss him lightly on his soft lips and then walk into the classroom. Cameron was begging me not to hang out with Cam because he might be dangerous. But maybe that was
exactly
the reason why I wanted to hang out with him.