Chapter 26

[vibe track: higher self - karmic]

Jessica was getting over a two percent response rate today — higher than Cameron usually managed. Maybe it was something in her voice. Today, even her cubicle didn’t feel as hopeless.

She pretended to check the time on her cellphone again, even though it was right there on her computer screen. Henry hadn’t responded yet.

He hadn’t had much to say today, despite her prodding. She didn’t want to look desperate though, so she’d left it alone.

Maybe they caught on to the whole porn scheme and he has to actually teach.

Everybody had a teacher in school who really spoke to them. Even Cameron. She didn’t have many times she wanted to remember from school, but Mrs. Hennings was always kind, and she let Cameron stay in her classroom some afternoons to wait for Gram to come get her.

How many kids feel that way about Henry? About “Mr. M?”

She smiled to herself, pretty sure she knew the answer just from a few minutes of watching him on bus duty.

Tonight, she was heading back to her apartment. Her first night since ... since she’d been in the hospital.

Surprisingly, though, Cameron found she wasn’t actually feeling that anxious about it.

It’s just a place. A room.

The only thing in it was whatever she brought with her. Right?

Right.

Plus... Henry will be there.

Work went by more quickly than Cameron had thought possible. On her way to the Shitmobile, she texted Henry to let him know she was leaving work. He still hadn’t responded yet, but she wasn’t that concerned. She was the ghoster, not him.

When she walked into her apartment, she heard a door close somewhere down the hallway. It wasn’t Kendra, she knew. Kendra was in Sacramento again. She wasn’t really sure why her friend kept having to make trips over there to check out that school.

Isn’t that something you can do online anyway?

Cameron’s other roommates ... weren’t real big fans of hers. They’d all moved in here out of convenience. Only Cameron and Kendra had known each other beforehand, and if one of the others had an issue with Cameron — one bad enough that they thought it was worth the risk to bring up — they went to Kendra with it, not Cameron. That was probably smart for everybody, she admitted to herself.

Well, not Viv. She’s not afraid of me. But she’s hardly ever here.

That left the mystery door-closer as either Parker or ... Naomi. Cameron’s eyes flicked to the coffeemaker in the kitchen. It looked like it was still working fine. So why did she feel guilty?

Oh right.

She remembered the feeling of Naomi’s friend’s hair ripping off her scalp, the frightened, wild look in her eyes when Cameron threatened to kill her.

I ... was ready to, too. Fuck.

Who even was that person? Cameron had a hard time believing she could’ve ever felt that angry, that full of rage. But she had. That person was still inside somewhere, she knew.

The least I can do is replace her mug, I guess. Fuck. I still gotta do that.

Cameron slowed to a stop outside her room. A new door was staring back at her, one that looked much sturdier, like it wouldn’t bow very easily from a few punches.

It’s just a room.

Taking a deep breath, she reached for the brand-new doorknob and slowly turned the gleaming, bright brass. The door swung open easily, without so much as a squeak.

As she flicked on the light and stepped into the room, she expected to feel... something.

But she didn’t.

See? It’s just a room.

Cameron let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

The faint, lingering smell of bleach and cleaner stung her nostrils. The carpet had clearly been cleaned. The two other mattresses were stacked snugly in a corner and her own was in the middle of the floor, the wooden warning sign lying on top of it. Wispy gray curtains had replaced the blackout shades that had hung there before, the new ones left wide open to let in the glare of the streetlights and a view of the building across the street.

Cameron checked the closet, making sure nothing else had been changed — but it had. Her tops were all hanging in a row and the rest of her clothes were in neat, separate piles.

Kendra’s been busy.

Her friend had her own shit to deal with. But she’d found time to wash and organize all Cameron’s clothes anyway. For some reason, that made her miss Kendra — and appreciate her — even more than the clean carpet or the new door.

She set down the duffel bag that held all the stuff she’d been wearing and using at Henry’s and Gram’s the past week, vowing to deal with it later just as carefully as Kendra had done ... though she was pretty sure she wouldn’t.

After opening the window a crack so she could smoke, Cameron dragged her mattress parallel and tossed the handmade sign into the closet. Finally, she took a seat on the mattress and set her backpack down, heaving a sigh.

It was quiet.

The occasional mumble of some TV show came from the room next to her, only a little less audible than the rumble of nighttime traffic outside the open window.

Naomi then.

Cameron’s eyes settled on a spot in the center of the room, uncovered now that she had moved her mattress. It was lighter than the rest of the carpet, bleached into a splotchy oval. She couldn’t remember what happened there. And she didn’t want to.

Before she could start to spiral, she pulled her laptop out of her pack and set it up, hitting play on Attack of the Torcons! — something about aliens with funnel-shaped heads that could teleport from clouds to anywhere on the planet to wreak destruction. It was just noise to have on.

Lazily, she ripped open a bag of chips she’d taken from the vending machine at work and stuffed a couple into her mouth.

8:37. No new texts from Henry.

Is he still—

A faint noise interrupted her train of thought, which was welcome. She paused the movie, not sure she’d actually heard anything. Then she heard something like a quiet taptaptap from the direction of the front door, and she relaxed.

“COME IN!” she yelled. She didn’t hear the door open though. Her phone buzzed. Henry.

She rolled her eyes, a smile starting at the corners of her mouth.

Their door was rarely locked. Too many people were coming and going at all hours, usually, for that to be practical. They’d never had too much of a problem with it.

A few seconds later, Henry was standing in her doorway, wearing the same kind of thing she’d seen him in at school — a checkered button-down and khakis. Only, the button-down was untucked at this time of night.

What a rebel. The Napkin Bandit himself.

“Hey,” she said, and Cameron smiled at him. She couldn’t help it. Didn’t want to help it. She was happy to see him. Relieved, really.

But her smile faltered when she saw his expression. His usual half-smile was down to a quarter, and his deep brown eyes looked spent.

“Hey,” he said, but he sounded just like he looked. He didn’t seem to know what to do, so she patted the mattress next to her and slid her laptop out of the way to give him a lane.

He didn’t close the door when he came over, which she supposed she was okay with. Only Naomi was home anyway, apparently, and with no Kendra to run interference between her and Cameron, she probably wouldn’t dare to set foot outside her room until she absolutely had to.

Henry dropped an overnight bag against the wall and he slumped down next to Cameron, groaning out an “oof.”

She nudged him playfully with her elbow. “You’re not that old.” She smirked at him, but he didn’t really look at her, just gave a wan smile stretched too thin across his face. His eyes were on the laptop instead, but Cameron wasn’t sure he was really watching it.

He winced at the crunch of a chip in her mouth, and she raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, you okay?” she said quietly in between bites. His fists clenched and unclenched, and her eyebrow arched higher. Damn, what could make Henry so—then her face dropped. Probably something with his wife. That’s the only time I’ve ever seen him look like this.

Henry let out a sigh. “Yeah.” She wasn’t convinced. “How was work?” he said, forcing himself to look at her now. It was like he was making a conscious effort to try and brighten himself up.

She took a beat, studying him, before shrugging. “It was work. How about you?” She offered him the bag of chips but he declined.

“Yeah pretty much the same.” He turned his eyes back to the laptop and they both watched for a bit as some scientists tried to harness the power of lightning — which in this case was one of those plasma ball things that people said were always in science museums. Cameron had never been to one to check.

“Like flaming globes, Sigmund! Like flaming globes!” she said in mocking unison with one of the silver-goggled scientists, nudging Henry again. She’d been certain seeing her be so goofy — a rare occurrence outside of her own head — would’ve guaranteed a laugh out of him. But he just wore another weak smile.

“Hey,” she said quietly, seriously — and she didn’t say anything more until he finally returned her stare.

She searched his eyes, trying to figure out what was going on in there. She thought she was getting better at understanding them but ... she couldn’t even get a clue now.

“What’s wrong?” she said softly, hoping she was conveying that she really did want to know, whatever it was.

One side of his mouth tugged itself over, but not into a smile. He was debating something, apparently. She let him debate whatever it was. She understood. Her own mind took a while to sort through all the shit she was thinking at any given moment, too.

“Do you...” he started, not looking her in the eye anymore, “ever think about how we don’t, like...” his hands seemed like they were trying to conjure up the right word.

She finished for him. “Talk? Hang out?” He looked up at her, a little surprised, and nodded in hesitant, almost ashamed agreement. Cameron raised her eyebrows and crunched another chip. He winced again and practically bit down on his lip.

What is going on with him?

Through it, though, he looked at her expectantly, like that was all he’d wanted to ask and was waiting for her answer.

“I mean, what are we doing right now?” she said, waving at the movie playing on the laptop and the two of them chatting on her mattress. His face scrunched upward, acknowledging she had a good point there.

“How about that, like, we don’t really...” his hands searched for words again, and again, she found them for him instead.

“ ... have anything in common?”

“Yeah,” he said, his deflating voice in contrast to the pleased look on his face that she’d known exactly what he was getting at.

Cameron didn’t know what this was about, but she was already well acquainted with these questions. Until last night, they’d weighed at the back of her consciousness, threatening to pull everything else into their wake.

She shrugged. “Honestly? I try not to think about that shit,” she said. She was about to go back for another chip, but then froze and eyed him, a thought suddenly dawning on her.

Is he ... fuck ... am I about to be broken up with? Fuck. FuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK.

Cameron tried to keep her face straight, just in case she was getting ahead of herself.

I probably am, right? I always do. I mean, he brought his overnight bag! So ... he’s ... nah. Nah. He’s just nervous, that’s all. Gotta be. Yeah.

Still, her heart was racing faster than her thoughts.

“Why?” she heard him say, and she focused her attention back on what was happening in front of her.

“Why do I not think about that shit?”

He nodded.