Change.
1. (v) replace (something) with something else, especially something of the same kind that is newer or better; substitute one thing for (another).
2. (n) the act or instance of making or becoming different.
Ever since the downfall of the Inj...
"First future college girl quarterback here! Sorry, I can't come to the phone but I'm probably too busy with practice so...leave a message I guess." The line beeps once more and I roll my eyes, stopping nearby her locker.
"Hey, it's me...again." I wince at the awkward pause. "I just wanted to check in to make sure you're doing okay. Yesterday was a lot to unpack but I meant what I said about still being there for you." I say, pressing my back against the row of empty lockers. "Call me back when you hear this."
"Is that voicemail for a certain someone?" I jump at the sudden familiar voice from behind. "I thought you were more into leaving texts?"
I slowly turn around and see Cameron wheeling in a cart filled with art supplies. "I have no idea who you're referring to but it was for Artemis." I cross my arms with an amused expression.
"My bad." He chuckled, holding his hands up in innocence. "I just thought that the last time we talked, you might've done something with Yolanda."
My face flushes. "What the--I told you that we were just good friends!"
"And I told you that if you like her, what's stopping you?"
I huff. "We're friends, Mahkent. That's it." I emphasized, earning a chuckle to escape from his lips. "Besides, how's the mural coming along? I walked by it the other day and the flowers are amazing."
His eyes lit up. "Thanks! I thought that since my dad...passed, he deserved something in his memory." He gave a small smile. "I would still be outside but it looks like it might rain so I came in to use the studio. Didn't want to chance it and have the rain ruin the mural."
"Yeah..." I trail off with a fake smile. "He was a good man. I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thanks, Freya. I'm sorry as well about you and your sister's parents." He places a hand on my shoulder. "You guys doing okay?"
"Artemis hasn't been answering my calls." I shove my hands in my pockets. "Found out that I was adopted so..."
"Asking if you're okay was a dumb question, got it." He finished, awkwardly moving his hand off and I let out a chuckle. "Well if you ever want someone to talk to, I'm here."
"I'll take you up on that."
"Hey, Cam!" We turn and see Mr. Deisinger run up to us with a journal in his hand. "You dropped this outside and might I say, your drawings are beautiful." He flips open a couple of pages, my eyes widening in recognition of the sketches of a girl who looked like Courtney.
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"I-I erm." Cameron stammered, his eyes flickering to mine in which I cover my mouth in shock, remembering the story he told me about how his parents got together with his mom doing the same thing.
"That looks a lot like Courtney Whitmore to me." Mr. Deisinger teased, noticing Cameron's expression.
"I was--I was just fooling around." Cameron nervously laughed.
