Chapter 2
"Cameron Ann Morgan, if you don't get your butt out of bed this instant, I will be forced to take unnecessary painful measures against you!"
I groan and roll onto my side, pull my duvet up and tuck it under my head. It's my favourite method of blocking Jane out; I call it 'the cocoon'. Mornings plus Cammie equals bad. I just don't do mornings, I have an allergic reaction to them where I shut down and become a zombie. And as soon as my plan to dominate the world finally comes into place, I will be able to force schools to start in the afternoon, and for mornings to be a sacred period of time dedicated to rest, recuperation and beauty sleep. Yes, I have thought this through, and yes it is pretty lame, but my morning brain is the part that is disconnected from the rest of the normally functioning brain, therefore I have an excuse.
"Unleash the Dylan".
Ok that's it, I'm getting up, no way am I gonna be subjected to 'the Dylan' at 7:30 in the morning. I leap out of bed in a flourish, just before a little boy bursts through the door, brandishing a plastic sword and wearing an ill-fitting helmet.
"Ahhhh, be afraid!" This is Dylan. My annoying slash sometimes-lovable six-year-old stepbrother. Now would be the best time to say that I'm an orphan, living with my foster parents, who six years ago, in a burst of happiness and joy produced this little kid whose life mission nowadays is to make my life as horrible as possible. And yet I still manage to like him. My name is Cameron, but because its both a boy and girls name, I call myself Cammie, which is way more feminine and fully asserts the fact that I am a girl. My parents died the day after I was born in a car crash where I was the only survivor. After a year of being pinged around several orphanages, I finally found myself at the Smith residence. John and Jane Smith became my parents and they have been for as long as I can remember. I love them; they are all I've ever known. At this precise moment in time, here I am, standing in my bedroom looking incredibly dishevelled, warily watching Dylan hop about on his feet, trying to look intimidating but failing and producing a rather constipated look. I sigh and fall to the floor, covering my face with my hands and start to pretend, because knowing Dylan, if I don't play along with his game, God knows what horrors and pranks I'll be in for.
"Ah!" I shout, cowering in pretend fear, "Knight Dylan! I'm so sorry for my crimes!" I peak from my hands which cover my face to see Dyl smiling down at me in pure joy in our game, the gaps in his teeth showing.
"Bow down monster!" he shouts, waving his sword around again. I kneel down so that my head is at the same height as Dylan's. His eyes twinkle with mirth as he proceeds to knight me by resting his sword on either side of my shoulder. His messy blonde hair is falling in his eyes as he sticks his nose up in the air like a pompous gentleman.
"I knight you Sir Cammie of the realm of Dylanland!" "Why thank you kind knight. I will serve the realm to the best of my abilities." I rise to my feet, and take off Dylan's helmet to ruffle his hair, smiling at my brother. "Morning Dyl," I say as I bend down to kiss the top of his head. "What's Jane got for breakfast?"
"Pancakes, banana for me, choc chip for you!" he says as he runs out of my room, bounding down the stairs two at a time. I swear that boy is one day going to fall down those rickety stairs and break his neck. The prospect of school in the morning hits me like a ton of bricks, but soon the sweet smell of pancakes wafts through the open door, beckoning to me. Throwing on a jumper over my camisole, I run down the stairs like Dylan, not caring whether I could fall and injure myself. And yes, I know I am a hypocrite telling Dyl to not run down the stairs, but he's only six, I'm seventeen. Big difference. All that matters is that Jane is making choc chip pancakes and that there is always a fight between John and I for them. I run into the tiled kitchen, my eyes searching for the gorgeous golden stack of golden pancakes. My eyes land on John sitting at the table, his mouth full of syrupy goodness, his lips pulled up in a smirk as he triumphantly gestures to the pile of pancakes in front of him.
"John!" I exclaim, marching towards him, my fists at my side balled up.
"Morning Cam." He smirks at me, fully aware of the fact he is eating my breakfast right now.
The audacity of that man! I decide to play along, just because I am in a playful mood. I sit on the chair next to him, propping my elbows up on the table next to his plate, resting my face in my hands and stare up at him.
"Morning Johnny, how are you this wonderful morning?"
"Grand, Cammie, just grand," he replies, his blue eyes sparkling in mischief as he looks over his glasses. "Jane sure does make the best pancakes doesn't she?" Bloody hell. I can't take this. I grab the plate suddenly, bringing over to my side of the table, but just as soon as I grab it, John grabs the other side and we start to battle.
"For God's sake, how many bloody children do I have in this house?" Jane arrives, and thank god, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to get any pancakes. John and I smile sheepishly at her, her hands on her hips in a threatening pose, her dark brown eyes locked onto us. She walks up to John and smacks him playfully on the back with a hidden spatula, her smile struggling to keep hidden.
"Ow! Honey!" John exclaims, his hand flying up to his back in shock. I watch the flirtatious actions passing between my foster parents with a smile, whilst eating my pancakes of course. John stands up and starts to kiss Jane on the lips, and when it starts to get heavy I stand up, pushing my chair back making a horrible screechy sound on the tiles. Jane pulls away, her face turning pink, her eyes flickering over to me.
"Uh uh, I thought we established, no kissing whilst I'm eating! I would not like to get put off choc chip pancakes, that just a waste!"
"Sorry hun, won't happen again," Jane says as she starts walks away from John, throwing a cheeky smile from over her shoulder. I start to sit down, but John chose that moment to slap Jane's bottom playfully. I roll my eyes; you'd think I live in a house with two horny teenagers. I stand back up, glaring at John and Jane and grab my plate to eat elsewhere. Much as I love Jane and John, there is only so much PDA I can take this early in the morning.
"You two are like teenagers. Can you please just grow up and act your age! I feel like the bloody parent here. I'll eat upstairs, I'm short for time, and it'll give you some time to yourselves. God knows you need it." John winks at me stealthily and I wink back. "Can't keep their hands off each other," I mutter as I walk out.
"We heard that!" yelled Jane and John in sync. I roll my eyes in response with a huge smile on my face. Jane and John are so young for their age, even though they are getting into their late thirties. I remember their childish nature and behaviour all through my childhood, which helped me a lot; especially dealing with the fact I had lost my parents. They were very young parents, adopting me when Jane was 25, and John was 28. Then after eleven years after taking me under their wing, out popped Dylan, yay! John works as a project manager for an IT banking project; who knows what that means. I tend to avoid the subject, as John could talk about it forever if you even go near the subject. Jane is a journalist and an interpreter, as she can speak seven languages. English of course, French, German, Russian, Korean, Mandarin and Spanish. I don't even know how her brain can handle that many languages, but she's the cleverest person you'll meet. She seems to know everything. She works at hone quite a lot, but she will sometimes go off for trips to other countries to write a story. She makes for an interesting person that's for sure. I love John and Jane, they are stupidly genius, childish, and so hopelessly in love with each other.
"Do you need a ride?" asks John as he passes me in the hallway. I grab my navy blazer from the coat hook and sling my backpack over my shoulder.
"Nah, I'm gonna walk over to Bex and grab a ride from there."
"Oh right, well say hello to the Baxters from Jane and I, tell them we need to have them over for dinner one time." I nod and smile, turning away and start to open the door.
"Oh Cammie." I turn around and John reaches up to my school tie, fixing it so that it actually looks like a tie. He shakes his head in disbelief, "when are you going to learn to do your tie?"
"When I find a good enough teacher to teach it to me," I retort, smirking at him. He pats my on the shoulder, "have a good day Cookie." I grin at his pet name for me and roll my eyes.
"Bye Pookie" I return. John and I have pet names for each other, ever since I expressed my distaste at the name Cookie. As expected, he didn't stop calling me Cookie, but I always returned calling him Pookie, just to annoy him as well. It's become a tradition of ours, just to remind outsiders that our family is actually properly weird.
I walk down the street to Bex's house. Bex is my one of my best friends and is British. That piece of information is necessary as it explains everything when it comes to Bex, especially her weird quirks. I knock on the door, and their butler opens it. Yes, they have a butler.
"Hi Frank," I greet the tuxedo-clad man with a smile wave as he ushers me in.
"Good morning Miss Cameron. Rebecca is upstairs in her bedroom, and Mr and Mrs Baxter are in the firing range. I believe they are departing for a mission in a few days." Oh I forgot, Bex's parents are actually agents of MI5, which explains the firing range and the mission. Its no big secret to friends of the family, but to everyone else, the Baxter's are just a family who are incredibly rich and the parents often take long holidays.
"Better not let Bex hear you call her Rebecca, Frank." I say as I walk up the marble staircase, "she'll have you for dinner!"
Frank smiles gently, in the perfect butler manner, "Miss Rebecca can try all she likes, Miss." I laugh and wave him a quick goodbye. I reach the top of the stairs and walk down an elegantly designed corridor. Their corridors are grander than my whole house put together. I finally come to a white door and knock the secret knock. The door opens grandly to reveal a huge room with a girl dressed in uniform staring at me.
"Great! You're here, just give me a minute to grab my things!" giving me a quick one-arm hug, holding a bunch of files in the other arm. I present Rebecca Baxter, but if you are interested in living in the foreseeable future, I suggest calling her Bex. I walk into the room, drop my bag and take a run up, jump, twist in mid air and land on my back on her bed, which is the comfiest thing ever. You just sink straight into it; it's heaven. I pull up my hands up behind my head back and close my eyes. All I hear is Bex's disapproving tut as she lies down beside me. I feel the duvet dip beside me and I turn to look at her, analysing her. I've known Bex for years, which means we kinda have a telepathic link where I know how she is feeling. But it doesn't take a genius to figure out that Bex is sad. She always shuts herself up just before her parents leave for a mission, she gets sick with worry and struggles being alone, knowing that her parents are in a life or death situation constantly.
She looks up at me; her eyes swimming with unshed tears threatening to spill over. "Its an important one Cams. Like really important. Which is like code for dangerous," she whispers. I sit up and wrap her slim figure in a hug, resting my head on her head of curls. I stroke her back, and instantly think of a way she will cheer up, because a sad Bex makes for an unbearable Bex at school. Therefore, we all like her happy. And also, I do love her, so if she's happy, I'm happy. I push her away slightly so I can look at her. Bex only cries in front of me, she is the strongest person I know, but when she breaks, only I can really fix her.
"Wanna make me up for school today? I trail off, having a mini celebration inside of me watching her smile grow on her face. I'm not the kinda girl who wears make up; I'd rather just throw my hair up in a messy ponytail for school. First of all, it saves time, and I need the extra time for sleep in the morning. And second of all, I wouldn't know where to put creams and all the colours on me, so I just don't bother. For years Bex and Macey have begged me to let them put make up on me for school, and time after time I would refuse. But today, just to cheer Bex up, I'm gonna let her, and probably just spend the rest of the day hiding under a hat or something, I seriously hate wearing make up. "Really?" Bex asks, her hands rubbing together gleefully, her mood totally changed. I internally groan, regretting my decision, but smile and nod at her.
"Fantastic! Just sit there and do as I say okay?" She claps her hands together and jumps of the bed, laughing to herself. She comes back to me; holding three make up bags, yes three. God knows what she keeps in there… She pulls out a bottle, and looks at me, tilting her head to the side in thought. She rights her head, smiles and looks at me, "let's do this".
"Oh god."
I knew it was bloody mistake. Of course Bex would go all out. She even made adjustments to my damn uniform! So here I am, walking into the main entrance of the school, a white woollen beanie pulled low over my blonde waves, hiding my eyes from view so that people won't recognise me. Hopefully. Bex has traded my black school shoes for black heels which right now I'm struggling to walk in, she's shortened the striped tie, shortened the skirt, and swapped my tights for knee high socks. I am going to kill that girl. She's messed up my face, she's added bronzer because apparently I'm too pale, blusher, because I don't have enough colour, mascara and eyeliner because I have light eyes and done my eyebrows because I quote Bex here, 'they are a bit dodgy'. Did I mention that I am going to kill Bex? We walk down the corridor, our heels clicking against the wooden floor, echoing down, announcing our presence. And great, a boy just wolf whistled. Fantastic. I glare at Bex beside me, who's glowing from my transformation.
"You are so dead," I mutter, squeezing her hand with enough pressure to grab her attention.
"Oh I know," she returns gleefully, "it'll be so worth it though." I groan and pull my beanie down lower to look at the floor, which suddenly just became more interesting. I let Bex guide me into our homeroom where I fall into my chair and pull my bag up onto the desk with a thud.
"You're late."
My head snaps up at the foreign voice. Shit, now I'm in trouble. Trust me to be late on the day we get a new teacher. A man in a navy waistcoat stares us down and wow, he sure is intimidating.
"Sorry sir," chimes Bex, "won't happen again!" Why does she always sound so happy?
"Glad to hear that Miss Baxter. But what is your name?" He looks at me expectantly, and I look up to meet his gaze.
"Cammie Morgan sir." I reply. I watch as a flicker of horror flashes through his expression. But just as soon as I see it, it disappears and his poker face comes back out to play. I have no idea what that was about. What's so horrifying about my name?
"Right. Well, as I was about to say when these two girls rudely interrupted me, my name is Mr Solomon; I will be your new chemistry teacher and your form tutor. You have four new students in your form group, Mr Goode, Mr Anderson, Mr Winters and Mr Morgan. Mr Solomon's gaze flits over to me as he says the last name, as if to gauge my reaction. I stare right back at him blankly. I have no idea what his problem is, and to be frank, I don't like the way he is looking at me, like I'm a bomb about to explode. It's incredibly unnerving.
"Well, now the pleasantries have been exchanged, I have to excuse myself, but I trust you will find your way to assembly when the bell goes. Nice meeting you all." And with that, creepy ass Mr Solomon leaves the room. "Oh my god! He's so hot!" I roll my eyes in exasperation; of course Bex would find him hot.
"Of course you would." I scowl at this new person's comment. Only I'm allowed to comment on Bex's irresponsible crushes. I turn around and prepare to rip a new one into this person. But oh my god. Just my luck, newbie here is hot as hell. Not cute, but flaming-please-dunk-me-in-cold-water-type hot. He smirks at me, because here I am gawping like a flipping goldfish.
He leans in and snaps his fingers at me, "earth to Blondie?" I snap out of my reverie and glare at him.
"Oh so you are awake, just making sure you weren't daydreaming about me."
I give a loud fake laugh, "and why would I daydream about you?" He grins cockily at my response. What I would do to wipe that stupid smirk off his face right now…
He gestures to himself, "have you looked at me recently?"
I smile prettily in response, "you need your eyes checked newbie, you're not as good as you think you are."
Again he grins, showing his perfect white teeth. Christ, why isn't there an imperfection on him? Why couldn't just have a chipped tooth or something so I don't feel like a freak show talking to this walking Abercrombie model? He leans forwards and sweeps his hand across my cheek so quickly I could have missed it. He leans even further forward, and right now, I'm frozen, even though he's invading my personal space like a million times over. His face juts out slightly so that his mouth comes near my ear. His breath touches my neck, leaving goose bumps in its wake. "Your blush says otherwise Blondie." He falls back into his chair, and the bell goes, bringing me back down to earth. I turn back in my seat and gather my things as quickly as possible, just to get out of the room so I can mentally gather all my logic and common sense that had been thrown out of the window by that one sexy husky whisper of his. Bloody hell. Who am I? I stand up and walk out of the room, only to trip up on my feet and fall to the ground, my bag spilling out all of its contents. Great, my clumsiness comes into play the minute it will embarrass me. I hear a chuckle next to me, as 'newbie' bends down to help me collect my pens and books. He stands up and offers a hand to me, his face stretched into a wide smile. I glare at the hand; he must have some bloody snag to this plan. No way could 'newbie' by this nice, considering he has just been trying to, and successfully, pissing me off for the whole of the three minutes I have known him. But screw it; I'm on the floor of a classroom. I place my hand in his, and he gently tugs me up to him, careful to not let me fall. We pause as we stand close to each other, his hand still holding mine. And bloody hell, his green eyes are so pretty. Like not gross colour green, but like the beautiful vibrant green of… grass?
Again, a chuckle escapes his lips, "I know I'm gorgeous Blondie, but no need to gape at me like that." Dammit, he just couldn't keep his mouth shut could he and not ruin a nice moment? I rip my hand out of his grasp and scowl at him in frustration because he is still standing in too close a proximity for my own comfort. I mumble a thank you and turn away, walking down the corridor, well more like power walking, he just makes me feel weirdly nervous.
"You know, I never caught your name!" I hear him shout down the corridor, which is now quickly filling up with people.
I grin at myself, shaking my head slightly in amusement as I do what's best, disappear into the crowd.
A/N: Second chapter! Thanks for reading. Reviews and PM's appreciated! x
