𝓑𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓪𝓵 | 𝙴𝚕𝚒 𝙼𝚘𝚜𝚔𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚣

𝚘𝚗𝚎

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❝𝙱𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚍? 𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?❞

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Camila Sanchez walked into the cafeteria, thick heels clacking against the polished floors as she did so. Lips painted a deep shade of red, matching the corset she had worn over a simple grey long sleeved shirt and black skirt. Grabbing a lunch tray, she took a spot in line in order to receive whatever slightly stale or nearly expired food the school had to offer.

She most definitely stood out. Most of the student body not able to miss the two braids that dangled on both sides of her head, or the bright kind smile she'd always give the lunch ladies in an appreciative manner- no missing tooth in sight. Naturally assumptions rose up that she would find a seat at the popular rich girl table. These assumptions would always make Camila laugh.

Breathing in the unnerving odor of high schoolers mixed with the smell of food, Camila let her eyes wander for a moment. She had quickly taken notice of the school bullies beating the crap out of the vending machine, and rolled her eyes at the lack of maturity.

Straightening up, she made her way towards her designated spot with a proud pep in her step. The table she sat at has continuously shocked many. No one expecting the pretty girl to sit at what can only be described as the Rejects table.

Balancing her tray of a mushy meat with a side of not-so-fresh green beans and a pitiful sized yoohoo, she pulled out the discolored blue chair and sat down, gently placing her food on the table as to not cause anything to spill. She then dropped her heavy backpack down next to the chair, already feeling her posture get ten times better. Scooting in, the scraping of the seat against the floor was drowned out due to the normal chatter of lunchtime, Camila smiled up at her two best friends. Demetri and Eli Moskowitz.

"Hey guys." She greeted, before picking up her spork and distastefully poking her food with it.

"Hey." Demetri responded, while Eli simply waved at the girl with a shy smile.

Nine years later and he still wore the hand-crafted bracelet Camila had given him when they first met. It no longer loosely hung on his wrist with the constant threat of it flying off, but now clung snugly onto his skin. Camila had pressed him about simply placing it in a safe space in his room, both out of embarrassment due to the spelling mistake and worry due to the fear of it causing her friend any discomfort. He always refused, whether that be verbally or with a shake of his head.

Demetri had joined the friend group during the sixth grade, creating the three musketeers--which they had not so surprisingly dressed up as for Halloween one year. A picture hanging on Camila's fridge being an eternal reminder. The boy was also a misfit. Excluded during team picking in gym--what the three of them had agreed to be their least favorite class--as well as avoided in the cafeteria and class projects. Camila had noticed this, and one day dragged Eli over to sit next to the lonely boy during lunch, where they talked and laughed--and Camila not-so-gracefully snorted milk out of her nose.