It was an old house in an even older city. Weathered by the sun, its white stucco walls rose above the cobblestone street radiating the kind of warmth that made passers by stop and stare a moment. They'd find themselves smiling for no reason at all before giving their heads a visible shake and moving on down the road. A high coquina wall patched with brick and concrete surrounded the rear of the house, guarding it on three sides. It wasn't at all uncommon for locals and tourists alike to be seen running their hands reverently along its scarred surface as they walked by with curiously content smiles lighting their faces.
The local historical register listed the house as "The Bernier-LeClaire House". To Camille Carey it was simply home. She'd taken her first breath in one of the second floor bedrooms and had fallen from the oak tree in the backyard when she was six and broken her arm. It was where she learned to walk, to ride a bike, and where she learned that life isn't always fair.
From the window seat in her bedroom, Camille peeled back the purple sari cloth curtain and looked down at the street below. She saw the smiling faces of tourists as they posed beside the fountain in the center of the road or next to the brass plaque outside the house's iron gate. Sometimes, Camille wished she could do that. She wished she could be normal and have a normal life. She wished her mother and brothers were still alive. And on the days when she was feeling particularly selfish, Camille wished she had her father back.
Outside the window, the sun moved behind a cloud casting the bedroom in shadow. Camille dropped the curtain and sighed as she wrapped her arms around her bent knees. School had been out for a week but she didn't really care. It wasn't as though she had any friends who she'd want to spend time with anyway. Even if she did, Camille doubted she'd have much to talk about with them. Sure she thought Zac Efron was cute, who didn't? And no, she wasn't a Taylor Swift fan - not that anyone could really blame her. If you'd heard one of the girl's songs, you'd heard 'em all.
But when faced with the knowledge that the world as she knew it was about to end, talking about what happened on Gossip Girl or voting for the next American Idol weren't exactly sitting at the top of Camille's to do list. Slipping off the seat, she kneeled down and rested her elbows on the bench. With her clasped hands pressed to her forehead, Camille began to pray, "Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…"