yellow ➸ camren

twenty

Lauren pulled Camila's journal out of her backpack. She traced the worn leather cover, wondering how many times Camila had held this same journal in her hands. It was hard for her to grasp the fact that the same girl who had written in this journal was the one Lauren had kissed only a few days ago.

Her phone buzzed a minute or so later, and Lauren furrowed her eyebrows when she realized it was a Facebook message from Sydney.

Sydney Marx: Hey, I just remembered something. The entire cheerleading squad had to come back to the school gym the day after graduation to clean out our lockers. Camila never got her things. If I remember correctly, they still should be in a box next to the Lost and Found in the library. Just thought you'd want to know.

It was worth a try, Lauren decided. She pushed herself up from her spot on the curb and began walking in the direction of the school. It would be a long walk, but she didn't feel like waiting for the bus. She needed something to occupy her time.

Over half an hour later, her old high school finally came into view. Lauren cringed at the sight, remembering all the bad memories she'd associated with the building. Swallowing her pride, she slowly realized that no one was at the school. It was a Saturday.

Remembering something, Lauren jogged around the back of the school and found the loading docks. The food was delivered to the cafeteria on trucks, which would park at the loading dock and be carried into the kitchen. Lucky for Lauren, she'd gotten detention in her sophomore year and had to help carry crates back and forth. And now, she remembered the code they'd used to unlock the door.

6022.

She tapped the numbers in on the keypad and hit enter. Moments later, there was a low beeping noise and the click of the lock. Lauren glanced around her one last time before opening the door and slipping inside.

The library was on the opposite side of the school from the kitchen. She jogged her way there, breathless by the time she reached the rows and rows of bookshelves. A large sign read 'Lost and Found' in the back corner.

Once Lauren made it there, she found the box Sydney had been talking about. She knelt down next to it, biting her lip and hesitating for a moment. Did she really want to do this? What if she found something even worse than what she had already found?

Doing her best to dismiss her concerns, Lauren slowly lifted the flaps of the box and peered inside. She pulled out a packet of papers stapled together, eyeing them curiously.

"If you were to write the story of your life until now, what would you title it and why?"

Lauren furrowed her eyebrows when she read the heading of the paper. Upon further inspection, she realized it was a college entrance essay. This should be interesting. Lauren took a deep breath, preparing herself for what was to come.

My parents died when I was six. Whenever I tell people I can still remember them like it was yesterday, they look at me like I'm crazy. But I do. I still remember little things about them. I remember my dad always had paint on his hands, and I remember my mother would always scold him for getting turpentine on his new clothes. He was a painter, and she was an accountant.

It's funny, because no one would have expected them to fall in love. The woman who loved numbers, and the man who could barley tell time. But apparently they did. I don't know much about their past. I don't have any family to ask questions, besides my uncle. But he can get very evasive when I try and discover information about my parents, so I've given up.

The one thing I remember the most about them, though, was how much they loved color. Especially my father. I would always sit on a stool in his studio and watch him mix his paints together. The best days were the days that he would set up a smaller easel for me, and I would get to use finger paints. I always tried to paint like him, but I could never quite get it right. So I'd start over, and smear a new piece of paper with yellow.