HIGHER LEVEL SECONDARY EXAMS (HLSE)
WRITING PORTION (4 HOURS)
STUDENT: MASSIE BLOCK
ID: 4562485
Prompt: Write a detailed narrative or essay on a person who has had a profound impact on your life.
"Ugh, I can't believe you dated Landon Crane," was all Dylan said when I recounted the disastrous events of the concert to her over the phone the next day—focusing mainly on my awkward run in Landon and Cam's subsequent distance. Even though we had broken up ages ago, the idea of Landon and me still disgusted her to this day. She had noticed his pompousness the very first day she met him, back when I was blinded by his whole pseudo-intellectual schtick.
I rolled my eyes. "Look at the bigger picture, man." Usually, Leesh was my go-to girl for boy advice, but she was blissfully in Chris Abeleyland and therefore could not fathom the notion of interpersonal relationship failure.
"What's to look at?" she snorted, the chomping of her Chex Mix amplified on my cell phone. "It's completely obvious."
"What is?" I asked dully.
I could practically see her shoulders sagging in disappointment at my failure to grasp simple concepts. "Think about it, Mass. You go to a concert with Cam, alone. You guys are having a grand old time, but wait! You run into your ex-boyfriend, who unsurprisingly acts like a total douchebag. And oh yeah, you talk about how you and Cam are just friends and not anything else. He's suddenly all quiet and somber and other sad adjectives. Just think about it."
And I did think about it. Isaac Newton once said, "Truth is ever to be found in simplicity, and not in the multiplicity and confusion of things." But the problem for me was this wasn't simple, no matter how easily Dylan put it. There were too many other factors at play for me to find the truth. Yet.
My silence ended up giving my confusion away. "Oh God," Dylan muttered under her breath, "You are the stupidest smart person in history, do you know that?"
"Always tender with my feelings, aren't you?"
"Massie," she began with a bittersweet chuckle, "Cam's jealous."
Jealous? That word was simply not on my radar, unless it was a feeling I reserved for those brainy eleven year olds who graduate cumma sum laude at Harvard or days when I'm feeling particularly plain and have to be subjected to the likes of Olivia. "Of what?" I stammered, in shock.
"Of Landon! You dated the asshole for months!"
"Why the hell would he be jealous of Landon?"
I heard a smack on the other line, which could only be Dyl hitting her head out of frustration. "Good golly gosh, Massie," she said airily, in a ditzy tone dripping with 'duh', "maybe it could be because Cam likes you? And because no guy wants the see the girl he likes falling to pieces around her ex-boyfriend? Or telling said ex-boyfriend that he and the girl he likes are 'just friends' like the idea of them being anything more is preposterous?"
Shit. Well, then. Exam-Grader-Person, I wanted to believe her. I wanted to hold on to the thought that Cam was harboring secret feelings for me, but my Achilles heel was my naturally doubtful mind. Hypothesis, evidence, data, conclusion— the scientific method was, unconsciously, applied to almost every uncertain aspect of my everyday life. I mean, this was Cam. Nice, introspective, albeit cryptic Cam who could date any girl in the school if he really wanted to. If he would break up with Olivia, who was gorgeous and charismatic and never slipped up, what chance did I have?
Maybe Cam was wrong, and I was just as cynical as I unwittingly believed I was.
Sighing, I responded, "Come on, let's be realistic here. There's nothing between me and Cam, okay? And he definitely doesn't like me that way. Don't be ridiculous."
For a second, her dulcet tones were replaced by a strikingly different one I wasn't accustomed to hearing in my happy-go-lucky friend. Pleading. Knowing. Cautious. "Don't be so blind."
Despite my doubts, I decided to IM Cam just to test our current footing. Even behind a computer, you can still tell how someone feels toward you. Their words aren't as surreptitious as they thought. Plus, I needed to know if he was still put off by the concert aftermath and Landon.
massiekur: hey, long time no see.
massiekur: see, it's funny because i saw you like a few days ago.
massiekur: haha, guffaw?
To my relief, he replied within seconds. Well fifty-three seconds later. Not that I was counting.
reelbigfisher: if you have to explain a joke, it's clearly not as guffaw-worthy as you think it is.
massiekur: maybe the joke was that i had to explain the joke? like you're getting deeper and deeper inside the joke.
reelbigfisher: inception style, nice.
massiekur: right? leonardo dicaprio can do no wrong in my eyes.
reelbigfisher: even if he lit a crate of kittens on fire in front of an orphanage?
massiekur:...do the kittens belong to the orphans?
reelbigfisher: does that actually matter?
massiekur: well kinda. the kitten burning would be made worse if their orphan owners had to watch.
reelbigfisher: for the sake of the hypothetical, the kittens do indeed belong to the orphans.
massiekur: how many kittens are there?
reelbigfisher: enough to make the orphans cry.
massiekur: i don't know about this situation, though. i have bias because i'm kind of a dog person.
reelbigfisher: you're also kind of a terrible person, what with not caring about the burning kittens.
massiekur: i aim to please, fisher.
Though the conversation seemed shallow at best, at least he was able to joke around with me. Really, I needed that. In fact, I thought maybe we could forget the whole fiasco and move on with our friendship without any more bumps. Until..
massiekur: so, me, leesh, and dyl are going bowling tonight. wanna come with?
reelbigfisher: nah, i'm about to go over to olivia's to teach her the finer points of thermodynamics for her chemistry test.
massiekur: oh, i see. good luck with that, it's a tricky subject.
reelbigfisher: tell me about it. have fun, though.
And we both said our respective goodbyes and signed off. Even though I sounded cordial enough, I knew "peace out, fisher" wasn't actually what I wanted to say:
massiekur:CAM WHY ARE YOU GOING TO OLIVIA'S HOUSE YOU GUYS JUST BROKE UP! DON'T YOU DARE RELAPSE INTO A RELATIONSHIP. THAT WOULD SUCK, OKAY? DO YOU LIKE ME? AND NOT AS A FRIEND, I MEAN LIKE LIKE. CAN'T WE JUST BE UPFRONT WITH EACH OTHER? FUCK. I HATE BOWLING.
But I didn't. Because nobody really says what they mean, anyway.
"May I have your attention, please?" Mrs. P trilled after her daily lecture in physics class. Usually, Cam and I spent class halfheartedly taking notes and playing tic-tac-toe or some other time-killing game. But, we were both strangely keeping our distance. Me because I was too busy stressing about college applications and the probability Cam and Olivia would get back together (scenario: she is so taken by his thermodynamics knowledge that they both end up exchanging body heat); Cam because, well, I didn't know.
He didn't do 'remote' well. Sometimes, he'd crack a joke or his eyes would light up at something said, but then those same eyes would cloud over and I'd lose that flicker of comfort once more. It seemed like the only times we could joke around was over IM, and even that wasn't up to our typical standard of friendship.
Of course, Dylan's theory that he was rattled over our encounter with Landon was only gaining evidence:
- Cam, who had became a fixture of our lunch table, was nowhere to be seen this entire week. Scratch that, because Leesh overheard Kristen talking about how she saw him Tuesday reading a book under a tree and how weird it was he wasn't hanging out with us, like he had taken to.
- During an interesting discussion in English lit class about the effects of former paramours, Dyl told a story about her friend who dated a "complete and total asshole" for a few months last year and was "too blind to see his complete and total assholeness". According to her, Cam seemed more into the tale than others.
- Cam was, unfortunately, spending quite a bit more time with Olivia under the guise of tutoring. Instead of joking around with me in the corridors, he could be seen at her locker, nodding his head with an enthralled expression at whatever she happened to be saying. This was only intensified when I happened to walk by.
In the end, all signs pointed to me possibly over thinking this. That was usually the most logical reason. Usually.
"Your projects will be due next Thursday," droned the teacher, "and I hope you have taken the generous work period to your advantage. Remember, it's a significant portion of your final grade. I look forward to seeing how you give our curriculum new life." Yada yada yada, Mrs. P always said that before projects and almost always ended up disappointed. Grand expectations had a way of doing that.
Cam leaned into me and said, "Wanna practice our speech over the weekend?" His tone was earnest, which could only be a good sign. Or that he just wanted to do well on this project. Either way.
"Definitely," I answered with a nod, "your house?"
He frowned. "Vidalia and Rowan are having a sculpture show in our backyard. Not the ideal place to work." With a slight smile, the events of the their star watching party flooded back to me. The night Cam had opened up to me, the night we really became friends.
I bit my lip out of habit. "My house, then?"
The bell rang in the background, and we both gathered our belongings. "Sounds good," he responded, "I'll be over at around one, if that's okay?"
My eyes flicked over to the door. Lo and behold, it was Olivia. She was the picture of casual boredom, school tie loosened and her hair pulled back artfully. Except, the megawatt smile she shone in Cam's direction only negated her nonchalant appearance.
I felt a pang in my stomach as Cam turned waved at her. "Cool," I mumbled.
He was halfway out the door when he replied, "Cool," not even caring to look back.
"Massie! ¡Despiértate! ¡Ahora!" My blissful Saturday morning sleep was rudely interrupted by Inez and a newspaper, which she had been whacking me with. I had trudged back from another Friday night sleepover at Dyl's around eight AM and promptly retreated to my room to catch some much needed zzz's. I was so deep into my dream about Leonardo Dicaprio (Titanic era, of course) and his puppy caring business that I didn't notice her enter my room, let alone assault me to wake up.
"¿Por qué?"I murmured, clutching onto my blanket for dear life.
She ripped the blanket from my body, cruelly exposing me to the cold. "Because," she tutted impatiently, "there is somebody here to see you!"
"If it's Dylan or Alicia, tell them to the get the hell out." Seriously, don't mess with me and my precious sleep.
Inez groaned. "It is not Alicia or Dylan. Dios." She put a hand over her heart and sighed, "It's a boy."
That certainly caught my attention. I shot up from my bed, wiping away the trail of drool on my face. "A boy? Who? What did he look like?" I knew it had to be Cam, but a little confirmation couldn't hurt. Plus, part of me was dying to know what kind of impression Cam had made on Inez.
She grinned at me knowingly. "So now you want to wake up?" Ignoring her smart remark, I hopped out of bed and started pulling some clean clothes on. My clock read 1:42, and that could only mean that not only was Cam Fisher in my house, but he had been waiting for ages. I sprinted to the bathroom to wash my face and do something with my unruly hair. Honestly, I'd kill to be like Leesh, who looked gorgeous even after a rough night, or Dyl, who would just punch the face of anyone who said otherwise.
"He's nice, Massie," mused Inez as she studied my attempts to pull myself together, "and those eyes. They're.." She didn't finish her sentence, just whistled approvingly. "Is he your boyfriend?
I snorted. "No. I would tell you if I had a boyfriend, just so hell could freeze over and pigs could fly accordingly."
"Do you like him?"
"He's just my friend, we're working on a project."
She smirked. "Do you always fix up your hair for your friends?"
I threw the hairbrush in my hands on the ground and coaxed my hair in a ponytail. "Yes. In fact, I do."
Her eyes were burning on me, so I didn't risk the potential embarrassment of sneaking one last look at myself before I descended down the stairs. The clock read 1:50, it was now or never.
Inez clicked her tongue and crossed her arms. The gesture said it all.
I couldn't help but roll my eyes a bit. "What?"
"Nothing," she said, gingerly pushing my overgrown bangs back from my face, "He's just nice. That's all, nice. Nice."
"Hey there." When I finally made my way downstairs, I found Cam sitting peacefully in the kitchen. He was eating this stew Inez had made and just reading a tattered paperback he had undoubtedly borrowed from the sprawling bookshelf in the adjacent study. He looked perfectly at home, almost like I was the stranger here.
"Hey," he greeted with a smile, putting down the book. "Nice nap?"
My cheeks flushed. "It was, uh, okay. Sorry for keeping you waiting."
"Nah, it's cool," he replied. "Inez is a kick-ass cook. Plus," he added, holding up my battered copy of Flowers for Algernon, "I got to catch up on my reading."
"Nice choice. It's one of my favorites," I admitted sheepishly.
"Me too," he remarked casually before setting it down. That simple preference made all the difference, I just don't think he saw it. "Shall we get to work?" For a moment, I had forgotten that he wasn't here to eat and read books and just be...him.
And I've gotta say, Exam-Grader-Person, the fleeting second of living in forgetfulness beats the reality of remembrance every single time.
Nonetheless, we practiced our speech for the following few hours. There were hints of playfulness and laughter, but for the most part, it was serious physics business. The assembly of note cards, the clicking of power point slides, the slight stutters in our speeches—to put it plainly, it was incredibly dull. Cam made it very clear that this needed to be perfect and subsequently focused all of his attention on it. Now, I usually commend people on their work ethic, but this was a tad too much.
"Cam," I began uneasily as he typed away on his laptop, leaving behind an overwhelming silence in his wake, "is something bothering you?"
He looked up and raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"It's just...uh, well," I stammered a bit, but I was determined to get my point across. "You're just, uh, quiet. Quieter than usual."
"You're pretty quiet yourself."
Nice counter. "Yeah, but your quiet is different," I pressed.
"There are different types of quiet?" Cam asked innocently, but his mismatched eyes were challenging me. That much was certain.
"There are two different types of quiet. There's the whole peaceful and relaxed sort of quiet, where you're so calm at the moment you don't even speak." I sounded like a haughty scientists presenting my thesis to the Noble Prize council. "And then there's the disrupted quiet, where something is wrong and thereby preventing you from opening up."
He snorted, but that mischievous spark in his eyes had returned. "Let me guess, I'm the second type of quiet?"
"Correct."
Cam leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "That's a pretty astute observation," he remarked thoughtfully.
My curiosity was piqued. "Are you saying it's true?"
"I can't deny I have problems, Mass," he responded cryptically, "doesn't everyone?"
"I'm interested in yours at the moment."
"Fine," he sighed dramatically and opened his eyes once more. He leaned into me carefully, close enough that could see nearly all the hues of blue and green in his stormy eyes. The gap between us was practically a sliver of open air, and I couldn't help but think of what would happen if either of us slipped and brought it all crashing down.
Staring intently at me, Cam cleared his throat and said in the lowest of voices, "I miss bank robberies, drug deals, and jaywalking escapades."
He. Was. Impossible.
"Ugh," I growled, pulling away from him huffily as he choked back a chuckle. "Was that necessary?"
In between his fit of laughter, Cam managed to say, "Yes it was, Dr. Block. Why are you curious about my feelings?"
Finally, something in me snapped. "Because!" I practically shrieked. "Because that after that concert everything got messed up! And you're acting like we're half-friends and I'd like go back to being full-friends, okay? It sucks."
My tirade was met with Cam being stunned speechless. Immediately, I regretted my outburst. "Shit. Sorry, I didn't mean to go off like that," I muttered, averting his gaze to cover my burning face.
"Massie," Cam began cautiously, "is that what you think? That we're just half-friends or whatever?"
"Well, kinda," I conceded hesitantly, "we've both been...distant."
"And why do you think that?" he asked, running his hands through his hair out of mild frustration. "I mean yeah, we've both distant, I guess."
"I don't know," I sighed, "I've just been stressed out lately with college applications and this project and..." You, I wanted to finish oh so badly.
He nodded his head in understanding. "Yeah, me too. It wasn't really intentional. And the concert, well, it's just..." He trailed off before going off in a different connection. I practically swallowed my own heart, there was something about the concert. Was Dylan actually right?
(I kinda hoped she was, "I told you so" be damned.)
"I don't know, but I'm sorry if I've been acting weird. I promise I didn't mean to, you know, make you feel bad or anything." There was nothing but total sincerity in his voice, and the veracity melted any tension between us to my utter relief.
I smiled. "Ditto." But since I was never one for heartwarming moments, I quickly added, "so can we talk about something else? Like how Kemp Hurley might get an A because his seduction tactics on Mrs. P are kinda starting to work?"
Cam laughed. "Seriously, it's so wrong. At first I was disgusted, but now I'm just intrigued as to how far he's gonna take it."
"This is Kemp. He won't stop until they're having a full blown affair and he's guaranteed A's for life."
"Maybe they'll make a terrible made-for-TV movie about the scandal and better looking people will play them?"
"Do you think somebody would play us, as the appalled students in the background when news of Mrs. P and Kemp hits the school?"
"One can only hope."
Cam ended up hanging out at my house for a few more hours, much to the absolute delight of Inez and myself (not that I would go admit it). We watched shitty made-for-TV movies and made fun of them without restraint. We listened to music, with the Cavaliers CD practically on repeat. We ate a feast prepared by Inez and he told us an insane story of involving an eight year old Cam, an unmanned Spanish yacht, and the Mediterranean.
Then somewhere along the lines—to this day I can't pinpoint the exact moment—between his clever comments at the bad movies or his flair for storytelling or the simple look of contentedness he got when his favorite song played amongst the backdrop of his genuine niceness, I thought, "Wow. You're really something."
And that was the moment I realized I was falling for Cam Fisher.
author's note: Wow, I haven't updated in a bit. Sorry this chapter is all over the place, but I'm a little rusty. Big revelation at the end though, eh?
I hope you guys liked this chapter! Thanks for all the fantastic feed back on the last one!
Also, I've got some new stories up—a Plovert-centric multichap and a Kristen/Kemp oneshot, be sure to check them out :)
Thanks for reading,
Ren
PS: The Writers Lounge on the Clique forums are awesome and filled with even awesomer people, I highly recommend joining!