It's not hard being someone you're not. All you need to do is just
Become.
But it's harder keeping your two personalities separate
Because,
Once in a while
They merge.
And that's one of the greatest fears of a spy.
Her stance is too tense, her feet too far apart, her body angling in slightly the wrong direction and she looks too frustrated to actually hit the punching bag correctly.
She hits the punching bag one last time with a frustrated moan. Letting her hands swing by her sides in defeat she quickly turns around and bends to get her water bottle but then the punching bag swings right back and smacks her in the butt. She goes flying with a look of shock and hits the floor a foot away from where she was.
My eyes widen in astonishment; how can someone suck as bad as she does?
I watch her for a little while longer until I feel bad and a little sick of the way she's messing up the art of hitting a punching bag.
I mean, come on; it swung back and hit her in the butt!
So I stealthily swing down from the air vent I was casually spying through and hit the ground without a sound. I blend into the shadows and lean against the wall.
She's at it again; punching the bag in her frustrated, too tense, feet too far apart, body angling in slightly the wrong direction, way.
As quick as I can, I swipe her water bottle from behind her, take a quick water fall and put it back. She didn't even notice its absence.
She mutters under her breath, "I'm doing it wrong."
"Way to point out the obvious," I say with a sigh.
The Pixie Girl shrieks. "Who are you, where are you?" She asks with her voice a few octaves higher than it should be.
"Well, you know, I'm just an avatar cooking dinner." I say sarcastically.
She's still searching around the small room for me, her eyes passing the place I've hidden in several times. "It's past dinner time," she says oh so smartly back.
"No kidding," I reply with a roll of my eyes she can't see.
"Show yourself you coward."
"You know that line only works in movies, right?" I reply.
"Oh just shut up and stop hiding," Pixie Girl cries. "Please," she uses as a last resort.
I lean out of the shadow and tap her shoulder. She jumps and shrieks.
"Geez, save my ear drums, would you?" I ask, wincing. "You have some pair of lungs there, Pixie Girl."
"My name's Liz," She says.
"I know," I say, "but you look like a pixie."
She scowls and we have a mini staring contest until she gives up after a few minutes; water brimming the against lids of her eyes.
"What d'ya want?" She asks with a scowl.
"You suck," I point out.
She musters up a pathetic glare and tried to look intimidating—which is very hard when you're five feet and you look like a pixie, like Liz.
A sentence slips out of my mouth, one that I know I'll either hate, or eventually appreciate later in life, "I could help you, you know, with the baggage of a deal."
I'm such a freaking idiot. Really, I am.
In short, this is what Liz did: laugh, ask how the new girl would know anything about packing a punch, gave me a disbelieving sneer, and muttered something about how Macey and Bex were seriously rubbing off on her. She also picked up her water bottle and left the room—in exactly that order. Seriously. And people were saying I was rude.
I lean against the wall and slide down to the floor, my shock making my knees feel weak. What had just happened there? I was vulnerable. I was not a bitch. I didn't act the least bit ass-whole-ish. I acted like myself.
And Goddamnit, that scared me.
This is short, just a filler. Insight on how Cam is starting to adapt and unravel, almost against her will. A few minor mistakes here and there, I hope there isn't though. I'm also hoping for reviews like a pathetic little girl. So, please put me out of my misery—we can make it to 65, yea?
Sending your favourite food with love from up in the summer here in Canada, May is signing out :)
(Ps-Random fact-I fed wild hyenas twice in my life.)