Wonderstruck
camille
Strings of clear Christmas lights stretched across the patio of the Palm Woods, their soft yellow glow seemed to twinkle like the millions of stars that were somewhere above them, blocked out by the glow of Hollywood’s city lights. A group of teenage girls stood off to one corner, chatting with martini glasses filled with assorted punches in their grip. Heads full of curls tilted back in laughter, lipstick blotted on napkins neglected on small tables that lined the cerulean ripple of the pool.
Camille Roberts was one of those girls, enclosed by the circle of three that made up the Jennifers, three girls of the same name that were all triple threats in the industry. In the warped career-prep, high-school environment of the Palm Woods, the Jennifers were at the very top of the social hierarchy. Though Camille couldn’t say she was their biggest fan, most of the other teenagers that found themselves in the apartment complex for the future famous only lasted for a few months before they either made it big or became washed up. At least the Jennifers were stable; they’d been here just as long as she had: three, maybe four, years.
The girl twirled her index finger through her trademark chocolate curls as she listened to the other three ramble on about how they weren’t particularly fond of so-and-so’s haircut or the shoes they chose to wear to such-and-such premiere. Camille had to stifle a yawn, raising her glass of lemonade to her cherry-stained lips before feigning laughter.
Sometimes being an actress-in-training came in handy in the real world. This was one of those times.
A guy with an acoustic guitar sat on the edge of the pool, his jeans cuffed just below his knees and his feet treading back and forth as he gingerly tuned his instrument.
Another younger boy named Tyler rushed around the area, refilling the girls’ drinks whenever they asked and catering to their every want just so that he would have a chance to be around them. It was odd, the effect that the Jennifers had on people.
It was the same tired, played-out scene as any other Friday night, the same group of people hanging out by the pool, though they had an entire city teeming with life around them. It didn’t make sense, but it was the routine. They all were complete creatures of habit.
But an unfamiliar face made its way through the crowd, a sigh of relief in the form of a green-eyed stranger.
There was something about the way that he wove his way through the crowd, almost effortlessly, towards their circle. There was a certain boldness in his step, and though he was rather tall, he wasn’t gawky. Something about his confidence and the way he carried himself caught Camille’s attention, and her brown eyes began to trail the boy through the crowd. He had to be a newbie; Camille wasn’t the type to forget a face, especially not one with that pair of mesmerizing eyes. And even though he had to be new to the building, he didn’t have that deer-in-headlights expression that most of the new kids sported. His posture was relaxed, completely natural as he drifted through the crowd, pausing to mingle with Tyler for a moment as he grabbed a glass of punch from the table.
There wasn’t a single flicker of intimidation in those jade eyes as the boy made his way to their circle.
“Hey, I’m Kendall,” he flashed them a lopsided grin before continuing, “I just moved here from Minnesota with my three best friends. Thought I’d make an appearance and try to meet some of my neighbors.”
Though his voice and expression refused to tremble, there was something awkward in the way that the words seemed to tumble from his lips. A crack forming in his cool and collected exterior.
The other girls’ eyes widened, their mouths hanging agape in disbelief, and Camille just knew that they planned to tear him apart. She’d been around these girls long enough to know exactly how they thought. This boy was an intruder, he had somehow gotten the impression that he was on their level, and they had to set him straight.
Camille didn’t know Kendall, but she had a feeling he didn’t deserve the tongue-lashing they were preparing to give him.
“Hi Kendall, I’m Camille,” she introduced herself as she subtly steered him away from the group. “Nice to meet you.”
Though her back was to them now, she could still feel their glossed lips hanging open, whispers hidden behind glasses. Camille didn’t care what they had to say, they’d never be upfront enough to say it to her face.
He took her hand for a moment in a quick handshake, and though his grip was firm, his palms were moist.
The two stole a table at the edge of the pool, two pairs of eyes watching the gentle waves ripple over the surface of the pool, the lighting casting a lavender glow over their fair skin.
“So you’re from Minnesota? Why make the move all the way out here?” she asked, shifting her weight on the patio chair while she crossed her legs at the knee.
He nodded. “Same reason you’re here, trying to my a name for myself, I guess. I mean, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for my future, but there are some offers you just can’t refuse.”
“So the mob offered to turn you into a big teen idol?” she teased.
“You could say that. Gustavo Rocque could easily be considered a one-man-mafia,” he laughed.
The famous producer’s name was familiar, triggering a collection of horror stories, and Camille couldn’t help but feel bad for her new acquaintance.
“You know, I didn’t really peg you for a singer,” she admitted, her gaze darting to her feet for a moment.
“I’m not a singer. I’m a hockey player…who just happens to be in a vocal group,” he replied, a sheepish grin softening the edges of his features.
Camille laughed, and for once, she wasn’t acting. She barely knew Kendall, but she could already see that something in him. Something that drew her in, made her heart thud wildly in her chest, leaving her gasping for air. There was a genuine texture in his words, a playful glimmer in his eyes. He hadn’t let the city wear him down yet or these people get under his skin. He was still just a hockey player from Minnesota, just like she had been a drama queen from Connecticut. A part of her wanted to cling to him, to keep him from letting this city mold him into something he wasn’t. She didn’t want it to change him like it had so many others.
But Kendall wasn’t fake like her, he was raw. He was real.
They exchange more conversation, accompanied by playful remarks and jabs on both sides. Kendall asked various questions about the building, about the other people around them, and Camille tried her best o give him the lowdown on each of the other residents in attendance. It was easy, talking with Kendall. His words weren’t forced or rehearsed, and she could feel herself falling into his patterns. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone, and that was what left an impression on Camille.
He stood up from the table, the lavender glow from the pool competing with the twinkle lights above as they cast an outline along his profile. She wanted to remember him, just like this: shades of lavender and violet against his cheekbones, perfect shadows playing along the sharp line of his jaw. His nose was prominent and strong; the twinkle lights above caught highlights in his golden-blonde locks. A movie frame suspended in time.
“Well, I’d better be heading back to the apartment. I’m sure my friends are wondering where I wandered off to,” he laughed as she stood up to his level. “Maybe I’ll see you around so you can tell me your own backstory.”
That was the moment she should’ve said something, shouldn’t have held back her words, and she hated herself for standing there expressionless. She had become so accustomed to constantly playing a role that she’d forgotten how to let her true emotions show.
She could’ve answered with some flirty reply instead of just “maybe.” She could’ve gotten his number, anything would’ve been better than standing there with nothing.
As she watched Kendall disappear into the crowd, she repeated her own silent mantra.
Please don’t be in love with someone else. Please don’t have somebody waiting on you.
Camille Roberts was one of those girls, enclosed by the circle of three that made up the Jennifers, three girls of the same name that were all triple threats in the industry. In the warped career-prep, high-school environment of the Palm Woods, the Jennifers were at the very top of the social hierarchy. Though Camille couldn’t say she was their biggest fan, most of the other teenagers that found themselves in the apartment complex for the future famous only lasted for a few months before they either made it big or became washed up. At least the Jennifers were stable; they’d been here just as long as she had: three, maybe four, years.
The girl twirled her index finger through her trademark chocolate curls as she listened to the other three ramble on about how they weren’t particularly fond of so-and-so’s haircut or the shoes they chose to wear to such-and-such premiere. Camille had to stifle a yawn, raising her glass of lemonade to her cherry-stained lips before feigning laughter.
Sometimes being an actress-in-training came in handy in the real world. This was one of those times.
A guy with an acoustic guitar sat on the edge of the pool, his jeans cuffed just below his knees and his feet treading back and forth as he gingerly tuned his instrument.
Another younger boy named Tyler rushed around the area, refilling the girls’ drinks whenever they asked and catering to their every want just so that he would have a chance to be around them. It was odd, the effect that the Jennifers had on people.
It was the same tired, played-out scene as any other Friday night, the same group of people hanging out by the pool, though they had an entire city teeming with life around them. It didn’t make sense, but it was the routine. They all were complete creatures of habit.
But an unfamiliar face made its way through the crowd, a sigh of relief in the form of a green-eyed stranger.
There was something about the way that he wove his way through the crowd, almost effortlessly, towards their circle. There was a certain boldness in his step, and though he was rather tall, he wasn’t gawky. Something about his confidence and the way he carried himself caught Camille’s attention, and her brown eyes began to trail the boy through the crowd. He had to be a newbie; Camille wasn’t the type to forget a face, especially not one with that pair of mesmerizing eyes. And even though he had to be new to the building, he didn’t have that deer-in-headlights expression that most of the new kids sported. His posture was relaxed, completely natural as he drifted through the crowd, pausing to mingle with Tyler for a moment as he grabbed a glass of punch from the table.
There wasn’t a single flicker of intimidation in those jade eyes as the boy made his way to their circle.
“Hey, I’m Kendall,” he flashed them a lopsided grin before continuing, “I just moved here from Minnesota with my three best friends. Thought I’d make an appearance and try to meet some of my neighbors.”
Though his voice and expression refused to tremble, there was something awkward in the way that the words seemed to tumble from his lips. A crack forming in his cool and collected exterior.
The other girls’ eyes widened, their mouths hanging agape in disbelief, and Camille just knew that they planned to tear him apart. She’d been around these girls long enough to know exactly how they thought. This boy was an intruder, he had somehow gotten the impression that he was on their level, and they had to set him straight.
Camille didn’t know Kendall, but she had a feeling he didn’t deserve the tongue-lashing they were preparing to give him.
“Hi Kendall, I’m Camille,” she introduced herself as she subtly steered him away from the group. “Nice to meet you.”
Though her back was to them now, she could still feel their glossed lips hanging open, whispers hidden behind glasses. Camille didn’t care what they had to say, they’d never be upfront enough to say it to her face.
He took her hand for a moment in a quick handshake, and though his grip was firm, his palms were moist.
The two stole a table at the edge of the pool, two pairs of eyes watching the gentle waves ripple over the surface of the pool, the lighting casting a lavender glow over their fair skin.
“So you’re from Minnesota? Why make the move all the way out here?” she asked, shifting her weight on the patio chair while she crossed her legs at the knee.
He nodded. “Same reason you’re here, trying to my a name for myself, I guess. I mean, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for my future, but there are some offers you just can’t refuse.”
“So the mob offered to turn you into a big teen idol?” she teased.
“You could say that. Gustavo Rocque could easily be considered a one-man-mafia,” he laughed.
The famous producer’s name was familiar, triggering a collection of horror stories, and Camille couldn’t help but feel bad for her new acquaintance.
“You know, I didn’t really peg you for a singer,” she admitted, her gaze darting to her feet for a moment.
“I’m not a singer. I’m a hockey player…who just happens to be in a vocal group,” he replied, a sheepish grin softening the edges of his features.
Camille laughed, and for once, she wasn’t acting. She barely knew Kendall, but she could already see that something in him. Something that drew her in, made her heart thud wildly in her chest, leaving her gasping for air. There was a genuine texture in his words, a playful glimmer in his eyes. He hadn’t let the city wear him down yet or these people get under his skin. He was still just a hockey player from Minnesota, just like she had been a drama queen from Connecticut. A part of her wanted to cling to him, to keep him from letting this city mold him into something he wasn’t. She didn’t want it to change him like it had so many others.
But Kendall wasn’t fake like her, he was raw. He was real.
They exchange more conversation, accompanied by playful remarks and jabs on both sides. Kendall asked various questions about the building, about the other people around them, and Camille tried her best o give him the lowdown on each of the other residents in attendance. It was easy, talking with Kendall. His words weren’t forced or rehearsed, and she could feel herself falling into his patterns. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone, and that was what left an impression on Camille.
He stood up from the table, the lavender glow from the pool competing with the twinkle lights above as they cast an outline along his profile. She wanted to remember him, just like this: shades of lavender and violet against his cheekbones, perfect shadows playing along the sharp line of his jaw. His nose was prominent and strong; the twinkle lights above caught highlights in his golden-blonde locks. A movie frame suspended in time.
“Well, I’d better be heading back to the apartment. I’m sure my friends are wondering where I wandered off to,” he laughed as she stood up to his level. “Maybe I’ll see you around so you can tell me your own backstory.”
That was the moment she should’ve said something, shouldn’t have held back her words, and she hated herself for standing there expressionless. She had become so accustomed to constantly playing a role that she’d forgotten how to let her true emotions show.
She could’ve answered with some flirty reply instead of just “maybe.” She could’ve gotten his number, anything would’ve been better than standing there with nothing.
As she watched Kendall disappear into the crowd, she repeated her own silent mantra.
Please don’t be in love with someone else. Please don’t have somebody waiting on you.