Chapter 17: A Seed That Grows

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Camila did not give up.

Lauren doubted Camila had ever given up on anything.

She didn’t give up on the impossible trees growing. She didn’t give up on Michael, who was supposedly still coming on Monday. She didn’t give up on Lauren.

Lauren knew Camila hadn’t given up, but Camila was quiet, secretive in a way that was obvious.

Camila plotted quietly and Lauren picked up her guitar and began to play a tentative song, the only music that made sense.

A song for Camila.

——-

A lot of things changed when Camila moved in. Lauren shared her bed, because Camila got cold when she was alone. She shared her food, because the meals on Lauren’s plate were always more appetizing to Camila than her own. She shared her clothes and she was prepared for Camila to cut the sleeves off of perfectly good t-shirts to create peculiar costumes out of them.

Lauren felt different with Camila too, alive, like she knew every word that left her lips and every color around her, every touch on her fingertips.

She withdrew money from the inheritance she’d never wanted to touch, never wanted to think about, never wanted to acknowledge. She bought Camila bows and pizza and a telescope.

Lauren sat high on the roof at Camila’s side to watch the stars that did not shine during the day. She jumped for the phone every time it rang so Camila wouldn’t be upset by the sound.

Most of those things were good, wonderful in a way Lauren wasn’t sure she wanted to admit to, but there was the occasional mishap. When Lauren dove for the ringing phone it meant she didn’t check the caller ID.

It meant when she picked up the receiver, her mother’s grating, familiar voice was on the other end, and Lauren wasn’t prepared for it.

“Hello,” Lauren said mechanically upon hearing her voice. “This is the voicemail of Lauren Jauregui. I’m not in right now. If you have a message, please leave your name and number after the—”

Lauren! Clara snapped, and Lauren winced and sighed in defeat.

It was worth a shot.

“Sorry, Mom,” Lauren mumbled, pressing the phone closer to her ear. She was sitting on the couch, watching Camila spin around the room and dance with a graceful awkwardness. Music was beating loudly out of the stereo speakers, making the room vibrate with more than just Camila’s energy. It also made it fairly hard to have a conversation.

It wasn’t a conversation Lauren wanted to have anyway, really.

Lauren winced as her mother snapped her name again. “Sorry, what was it you wanted?”

Molly told me youve been skipping work, Lauren, Clara’s voice crackled over the connection.

“Mmhmm.” Lauren stifled a laugh as Camila jumped excitedly onto the couch beside her, poking Lauren with her socked foot expectantly. “What are you doing?” Lauren asked, laughing as Camila pulled insistently on a strand of her hair. “I’m not going to dance with you.”

What onLauren!

“Oh,” Lauren shook her head, then frowned. “Wait, Molly?” She didn’t work with anyone named Molly.

Molly Smith! Lauren could feel her mother’s disapproving glare over the phone. Dont you even know the names of your neighbors?

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