Chapter 5: Camila

After that last time, Henri called me every couple of weeks but I stopped answering. I'm quite proud of myself, really. Would a 'loose girl' have stopped letting Henri fuck her? He'd leave quick messages about needing to talk to me about a 'school assignment' but that was it. I deleted them as soon as they came in. I was done with Henri, and I hated myself and him for ever making love together. For loving him, for wanting him to be the one to 'save me' from the world. I was stupid, I know, but that's the sort of fantasy that can easily consume a person when someone like Henri shows attention.

I managed to steel myself, to some extent. I still hurt, sometimes cried, sometimes screamed when no one could hear me.

School became a little easier as most people forgot me, though I still heard laughs of 'Loose Girl' from time to time, but I became numb to it, my sour mood my antidote to the bullies. My grade stabilized as I became a zombie in class, thankful that I was smart enough to skate by without notice.

I dyed my hair blue. My school had a policy against unnatural hair color, but no one seemed to care and I was never brought in to talk to anyone about it. Go figure.

My dad, though, he was furious. He shouted at me when he saw it, told me it wasn't fit for a 'Christian girl' to go around looking like that. What would the pastor think? Jesus?

For the record, yelling in reply that "I don't care two shits about what Jesus or the pastor think" and "church is bullshit!" doesn't help in such situations. Just sayin'.

I was grounded, though my mom managed to convince him to back off when it was clear that it wasn't going to change me.

So, once more, I felt very distant from everyone, and my parents more than anyone. I continued to sulk in my unique way, and two months before the end of my freshman year, I wondered if life would ever get better.

Two months to go marked three months without Henri. I'd not forgotten him. Memories filled me at times with wanting and shame. He stopped calling after two months, and those last few weeks there was nothing but silence between us. Two months left in the school year, I thought maybe I was over him, but I know that if he'd have called just one more time, I'd have met him again, even if I was just offering him a wet hole to fuck. I missed him, and my lonely life left me seeking to fill that hollow feeling inside me with anyone who would make me feel wanted, even if Henri, and even if for only a few moments.

I wasn't desperate to be fucked, it wasn't that. I wanted it, to be sure, thought about Henri and other men often as I started to masturbate again. I was desperate for an emotional attachment that I'd gained and lost so quickly. I needed someone to want to be with me, even if just for friendship. I spent my free time reading, and doing nothing to seek out friends.

Two months to go, my life changed for the better, and it was all due to the arrival of a new student. Camila was no girly-girl. She dressed androgynously, vests over collared shirts, jeans that were neither tight nor baggy. Like me, she had colored hair, her black, shoulder-length locks streaked with pink.

It was love at first sight, really. Or, at least lust. Either way, the first time I saw her walk into my Biology class, I wanted to get to know her.

I'd recognized my attraction to other girls early in my sexual growth, though until Camila, I'd never acknowledged it. Never really thought about it. It was 'normal' to be attracted to boys, and I very much was so. But I'd looked at my classmates sometimes, felt myself stirring as I imagined what the girls would feel like if I parted their thighs and fingered them, what they'd taste like, even what they would smell like.

I knew I was bisexual even if I didn't really understand it, didn't use that label, but Camila changed all that.

Her first day at the school, she slammed her tray down on the table where I sat alone and discouraged. She grunted, "this free?"

I nodded and she sat down, eyed the crap on her plate a moment before scooping a pile of something resembling potato salad into her mouth. I managed to find my voice, said, "I'm Carrie. You're Camila, right?"

"I am," she said around another bite. "Carrie. Ok."

That was it for a few minutes, then she exhaled a long breath and said, "sorry. I'm in a shitty mood today, not your fault. Didn't want to change schools, but my Mom got transferred to the base and I had no choice. This end-of-the-year changing-schools shit really sucks."

"Sorry..." I wasn't really certain what to say. "Uh ... yeah, I bet it does. Can't say this place is much fun, I doubt you'll like it here."

It wasn't exactly what I'd planned to say, and it came out a bit different than it sounded in my head. Camila laughed, smiled at me. "That's honesty. I doubt I'll like it here, either. So ... what do you do for fun in this town? Not much here..."

"I'm not much fun, so I don't know."

"I doubt that. Anyway ... I like your hair. Blue's a color I haven't tried yet, maybe I'll go that way next time."

I smiled, said, "I like yours as it is. Very sexy."

I'd slipped, said more than I meant to say to the teen I'd just met. She laughed again, smiled, might have even flushed a bit. "Well, maybe. Maybe. Sexy, sure, I guess I can accept that. You're a little weird."

I laughed before I could stop myself. 'Weird.' That was a good way to describe me then. Maybe not fair, but not inaccurate. From that moment, I knew I'd found a friend.

We started hanging out around classes, played tennis on the weekends. Camila always had a grotesque or randy joke handy. I got to know her better, and as I did, I began to fall in love.

Her mom was a sergeant in the US Army and had regularly been moved throughout her career. Camila had lived in twelve places already, and at sixteen, it meant she'd had no strong connections to anyone or anywhere. I guess I knew the feeling then, having been isolated from all the 'friends' I'd had until that freshman year.

We hung out most often at her house, innocent friends, and I learned that she'd never had a boyfriend, didn't say if she wanted one. "Seriously, I think I turn guys off. I'm not primping for anyone. If they don't like me like this, no makeup, no jewelry, I'm not interested in becoming their idea of sexy."

"I doubt they aren't interested, I've seen Ken and Mitch checking you out. You know Mitch would date you if he had the courage to ask. Why don't you ask him?"

"Mitch is a decent guy, but ... I'm not attracted to him. Not at all. He's cute, just ... I dunno, no interest there."

"And Ken?"

"Ken's dating Julie, and I'm not gonna be that girl."

"Yeah, ok..."

"What about you? Anyone you banged in the past?"

I laughed, Camila never one to make her question unclear. "Uh ... I dunno."

"Dunno, or won't tell your best friend?"

I hid a wounded smile as best I could. She'd hit my weak point, the place I felt most vulnerable. I hated the moments with Brown and didn't want to recall them, and I couldn't talk about Henri, though I admit I was tempted. I finally said, "some other time ... some other time..."

She softened, smiled, said, "ok, no pressure. I'm here if you want to go into it. But ... virgin?"

"No. I'm no virgin."

"Phew, was afraid I might have to make you a woman myself!" When I nearly choked on my tea, she laughed, said, "just kiddin', Carrie. That's cool, I'm not a virgin either."

"I thought you said you had no boyfriends?"

"I never had any boyfriends."

"So ... oh ... yeah. One-timer, or not someone you dated, then?"

She smiled, said, "none of those, actually. You missed the obvious one."

I thought a moment, and it took a bit to hit me. "Girlfriend. You had a girlfriend?"

"Bingo. You win the prize for identifying the lesbian."

"I ... Oh, that's ... great. I didn't know, sorry..."

"Why the fuck would you be sorry, Carrie." Camila put her hand on my shoulder, tilted her head, "do you go around announcing to the world you're straight?" I shook my head. "No? Neither do I tell people how gay I am, so how would you know what I'm into?"

"I wouldn't," I said quickly. "Besides, straight isn't the right word for me."

Camila's face looked bright when she asked, "oh? So what would be the right word?"

"I dunno," I really didn't. "I like boys ... and I think I like girls ... never been with one ... you know ... jeez."

"Ahh," she smiled, " I think you're looking for the 'bi-curious' tag. Kinda a pointless term, really, as it can mean different things, but that's close ... so ... what have you done with women? Why are you curious?"

"I dunno," I was becoming repetitive. "Like ... I dunno, Cam. I'm just ... curious ... what it would be like, you know."

She left it there, and for most of the remainder of our semester, we continued to be close friends with nothing directly sexual between us. We talked about everything. Everything except Henri. I eventually told Camila about Brown, and she went out of her way to let the air out of his tires whenever she had the chance.