Riptide (a camren fic)

chapter 12: if you're a fish i'm a fish

a/n: yeah i know it's been like 84 years :I apologies for any typos

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It's been three days since Alexa's house.

Three days of silence.

Camila doesn't talk to Lauren the first day.

She doesn't talk to anyone – living.

She thinks the sudden relapse in her reclusive behavior makes her mom panic.

No, she knows it does. She's behaving more overbearing than usual.

The first day goes by, and Sofi questions the hickey on her neck during dinner.

Something that she completely forgot about, and clearly neglected to hide from everyone else. She wondered why Dinah didn't say anything to her about it, and when she saw the smirk on her face, Camila didn't even know why she questioned it in the first place.

It didn't matter anyway. Camila didn't really have it in her to be embarrassed the moment her parents glanced up at the mark and exchanged a look.

She was approached after dinner by her father. He had tried giving her an uncomfortable talk about feelings and urges.

The second day, her mother had tried to talk to her. It was more of plea to stay away from bad influences, which Camila roughly translated to Lauren. She became defensive and the desire to reach out to her neighbor overcame her initial avoidance.

The conversation then turned into an argument. The argument turned into a forced session with Dr. Abernathy.

And Abernathy's brilliant solution was to cut down on her medication dosage. Which only served to irritate her more.

She equated the cut of grams to more therapy. More talking.

And she was very tired of talking.

The third day, Camila wants to be left alone. Which was something her mother had a hard time understanding as well.

But she's never really alone anyway. Not with Dinah ghosting around her.

Except things between Camila and Dinah had been – strange.

Camila doesn't bring it up. Not at first.

But it lingers in the back of her mind like the patches of wet pavement after a rainy night. She soaks in the hazy, damp morning beneath the omnipresent clouds, precariously avoiding the puddles.

The largest – Dinah.

Camila sets down her medication bottle after she takes her pills, and makes her way back to bed.

Her lap top is propped, already booting. She crawls beneath the blankets, and places the computer in her lap.

The little library of video recordings presents itself, as she opens the folder. Her eyes glance over the dated files, hovering over the thumbnail, before she clicks on one.

It plays, and three seconds in Camila immediately remembers the time and place, as if it were yesterday.

The sharp pang in her chest reminds her that she does wish it was only yesterday.

It was a day they were all at the beach.  Nothing completely out of the ordinary. She and the girls had an unspoken tradition of bumming around on the sand, watching Dinah master a new trick.