Buzzed Hearts

03: let's talk about roma

ELLE ARORA MAY just be a miracle worker in Camila's eyes. Or at least in everyone's eyes, now that Camila comes to think of it.

    Elle functions on two hours of sleep everyday, never gets any of her work done on time, and maintains her perfect grade point average. Elle's also executive president. She was voted in sophomore year, the youngest student council president elected ever.

    Camila can hardly walk straight with a full night's rest. In fact, she has her test papers in front of her right now, a shining D scribbled on top of it.

    "I'm going to date her."

    "Who?" Camila looks up from her test corrections.

    "Roma Vang," Elle says as she picks at her nails. They're a nice, gelled, eggshell blue. Camila never has her nails done because it's unprofessional, given her piano playing.

    "Oh. Yeah, she's pretty."

    "Also, super good at tennis. I was walking home the other day and she passed me in her tennis shorts with her racket over her back like some sports star. I almost fainted."

    "Don't you have an overdue essay?" Camila asks. She, herself, has outstanding work but at least she gets them done. Elle never handed in her Hiroshima essay from eighth grade.

    "Three."

    "Jesus."

    "Can't help me now."

    "Are you up for lunch today? I'm feeling Baker's."

    "Can't. I have a meeting today." Elle frowns. "I can't skip since it's an honor council thing. Imagine ditching the ethics seminar and getting the email a few hours later."

    Camila laughs out loud before she quiets down, remembering they're in the library.

    "Indoor voice, kid," Elle says. "Anyways, can you help me get a date?"

    "Why are you asking me?"

    "Because. You're like the queen of dating."

    "If I were that good, I'd land myself someone permanent. Everyone's a bumhole when they're eighteen."

    "Not Roma. Roma has dreams. Roma is a model of quintessential existence."

    "Ugh, just do your essay. Essays. Your teachers have been bugging me to make you turn it in. Then, we can talk about Roma."

    Before Elle can get her snappy remark in, her eyes widen. Camila's always been jealous of her thick lashes and perfectly groomed eyebrows. She turns around herself, to see Roma exiting the library door.

    "Oh. Do you think she heard? Oh my gosh, Elle! She definitely heard. That's why she left. You need to start treating people with respect."

    "Shut up, you moron. This is so embarrassing," Elle says, not a single tinge to her cheeks, contrary to her verbal expression. "I can't take this. I'm going to go to class. Probably shouldn't ditch five months before grad."

    "Roma definitely knows you've got a crush on her now. Elle, you have been found," Camila crows after her, taking advantage of the situation. She can't wait to tell Jeremy.

    After Elle's passionfruit body lotion ceases to linger in the air, Camila sinks into her chair and starts her reading, taking notes as she goes along. It's ridiculous, the amount of work teachers assign when she's set to leave in a few months. Elle would definitely take a different route, if she were in Camila's shoes. Camila's long gotten her scholarship into Juilliard and it's unlikely they'd rescind their acceptance.

    Camila's only doing this so her dad doesn't worry about her education. She's also not going to waste her tuition joking off.

    It takes her only fifteen minutes before she uploads her project and finishes up her review so she packs up her bag and heads out. She only walks about six feet when she hits one of the pillars outside, grazing the right side of her face. The sound in her ears pop on impact, and everything starts to sound like volume inside a bottle.

    "Shit," someone says.

    Her eyes meet both seawater and tempest storm.

    "Heterochromia," she blurts, the first thing that comes to mind.

    "What?" he asks.

    "Your eyes."

    They roll, almost to the back of his head.

    "Yeah, I know, Einstein."

    The attitude he displays, especially after he had the nerve to grate her like cheese against the side of the wall, irritates her.

    "There's no need to be rude," Camila says sharply.

    The alarm sounds and it's both their turns to roll their eyes. It's never been on time, and administration's never bothered to correct it so the bell goes off in the middle of most their classes.

    The brief moment afterwards allows him to walk away. He never did give his official apology to Camila, who remains annoyed at the way he treated her. She shakes it off, unsuccessfully, and walks back to the upperclassmen lounge to set down her bag.

    Bothered, she spends the rest of her free period in a music room.