‹ Prequel: Dear God
Status: Hiatus
Camille
o n e
I made sure to let my heels create loud thuds that rung throughout the house as I marched up the staircase. I flicked my soft, blonde waves out of my face making the scowl much more visible. ‘Parents have absolutely no support for me’ I muttered bitterly.
★★★
I didn’t even completely have to walk through the door to hear the beginnings of my mother’s telling-off.
“Camille Dawn Quinton. What on Earth were you thinking when you acted that way?”
I turned to my dad for support but he just shook his head and wrapped an arm around my mum’s waist, “Darling, this is all really becoming to much. We get complaints almost every other day.”
I opened my mouth to speak but was cut off, “Camille, what do you want? What are you hoping to achieve from this? A longer curfew? A raise in allowance?”
Dad continued for her, “Well none of that’s happening. All you’re going to get is a tainted record and an un-wanted label.”
I was about to protest but it was in vain as mum started up again, ”Camille, I want you to stop this behavior. It’s rude and it’s unnecessary.”
“Your principal called to inform us about the retirement home arrangement”
“And it’s the only thing that’s going to stop your permanent record from going down the drain
so don’t stuff it up.”
I waited. They obviously made up their mind about me and it was a waste of breath trying to convince them otherwise. I had to inherit the stubborn trait from somewhere.
“Well?” Mum was striking a very motherly pose, with her had resting on her hip, her foot tapping with a pace and her mouth contorted into a firm, tight line.
“Oh, so I’m allowed to talk now?” I rolled my eyes and turned to walk away. It’s not that I didn't love my parents, because I did but they got on my nerves sometimes and vice versa.
★★★
Slamming the door shut behind me, I flopped onto the bed and buried my head into the pillow. It was my crying pillow, the one I used specifically because it was my favourite and somehow made me feel better afterwards. Luckily, I didn’t need my crying pillow today, not yet at least.
I heard the door creak open but I didn’t bother to see who it was. I could recognize my dad from his louder and heavier footsteps.
“Darling? Are you alright?” he asked gently.
“Fine” The pillow muffled my reply but he must have heard me since he sighed. Or he sighed because he thought I didn’t answer because I was ignoring him? Oh well.
“You know your mum didn't mean it right? We don’t think you stuff up and I’m sorry if you feel we’re judging you too harshly. I admit we let our temper slip but all this is getting old now.”
I just lay there.
“Please try at Herbert’s, for us?” He walked up to me and gave me a half-hug then left.
“Love you” Dad reminded as he was through the door.
“Love you too” I called back.
★★★
I stood outside the cozy little home. Admittedly, it did have a very warm feel to it but that didn’t make the punishment any more bearable. I smacked my gum and used my fingers to comb my hair- a force of habit.
The smell of cinnamon was the first thing that filled my nostrils as I stepped through the door. I wasn’t sure as to why it smelt like so but it did and it was unusually strong. As I made my way over to the reception, I could see most of the inhabitants shooting me odd looks. I might have looked out of place, wearing denim shorts and a spider-mean shirt, in a place that looked like It came out of some sort of Oprah episode, but it's not like i care; I'm not some guy who needs to impress his girlfriend's shotgun-owning dad.
The worker at the desk was a man in his thirties who, by the look on his faced when he saw me, didn’t see many girls that weren’t twice his age or old enough to be his mother.
“How can I help you?”
“I’m here to volunteer.”
“Ah yes, Camille Quinton? I was told you’d be here.” His face seemed slightly amused,
“Though I expected you to look…a little more like a delinquent.”
“Well sorry to disappoint” I said, blatantly while taking the badge he handed me and pinned it on my chest.
I hated badges; males who needed a better reason to stare at girl’s chests invented them.
I hated name card badges even more because it gave people an excuse to stare at your
chest and to justify it. Because it really takes ten minutes to read a two syllable name.
★★★
I didn’t even completely have to walk through the door to hear the beginnings of my mother’s telling-off.
“Camille Dawn Quinton. What on Earth were you thinking when you acted that way?”
I turned to my dad for support but he just shook his head and wrapped an arm around my mum’s waist, “Darling, this is all really becoming to much. We get complaints almost every other day.”
I opened my mouth to speak but was cut off, “Camille, what do you want? What are you hoping to achieve from this? A longer curfew? A raise in allowance?”
Dad continued for her, “Well none of that’s happening. All you’re going to get is a tainted record and an un-wanted label.”
I was about to protest but it was in vain as mum started up again, ”Camille, I want you to stop this behavior. It’s rude and it’s unnecessary.”
“Your principal called to inform us about the retirement home arrangement”
“And it’s the only thing that’s going to stop your permanent record from going down the drain
so don’t stuff it up.”
I waited. They obviously made up their mind about me and it was a waste of breath trying to convince them otherwise. I had to inherit the stubborn trait from somewhere.
“Well?” Mum was striking a very motherly pose, with her had resting on her hip, her foot tapping with a pace and her mouth contorted into a firm, tight line.
“Oh, so I’m allowed to talk now?” I rolled my eyes and turned to walk away. It’s not that I didn't love my parents, because I did but they got on my nerves sometimes and vice versa.
★★★
Slamming the door shut behind me, I flopped onto the bed and buried my head into the pillow. It was my crying pillow, the one I used specifically because it was my favourite and somehow made me feel better afterwards. Luckily, I didn’t need my crying pillow today, not yet at least.
I heard the door creak open but I didn’t bother to see who it was. I could recognize my dad from his louder and heavier footsteps.
“Darling? Are you alright?” he asked gently.
“Fine” The pillow muffled my reply but he must have heard me since he sighed. Or he sighed because he thought I didn’t answer because I was ignoring him? Oh well.
“You know your mum didn't mean it right? We don’t think you stuff up and I’m sorry if you feel we’re judging you too harshly. I admit we let our temper slip but all this is getting old now.”
I just lay there.
“Please try at Herbert’s, for us?” He walked up to me and gave me a half-hug then left.
“Love you” Dad reminded as he was through the door.
“Love you too” I called back.
★★★
I stood outside the cozy little home. Admittedly, it did have a very warm feel to it but that didn’t make the punishment any more bearable. I smacked my gum and used my fingers to comb my hair- a force of habit.
The smell of cinnamon was the first thing that filled my nostrils as I stepped through the door. I wasn’t sure as to why it smelt like so but it did and it was unusually strong. As I made my way over to the reception, I could see most of the inhabitants shooting me odd looks. I might have looked out of place, wearing denim shorts and a spider-mean shirt, in a place that looked like It came out of some sort of Oprah episode, but it's not like i care; I'm not some guy who needs to impress his girlfriend's shotgun-owning dad.
The worker at the desk was a man in his thirties who, by the look on his faced when he saw me, didn’t see many girls that weren’t twice his age or old enough to be his mother.
“How can I help you?”
“I’m here to volunteer.”
“Ah yes, Camille Quinton? I was told you’d be here.” His face seemed slightly amused,
“Though I expected you to look…a little more like a delinquent.”
“Well sorry to disappoint” I said, blatantly while taking the badge he handed me and pinned it on my chest.
I hated badges; males who needed a better reason to stare at girl’s chests invented them.
I hated name card badges even more because it gave people an excuse to stare at your
chest and to justify it. Because it really takes ten minutes to read a two syllable name.
♠ ♠ ♠
I almost fell asleep halfway through writing this; i'm really that tired. but i had to cause i promised preston i would :) So here.1)I should be updating pretty frequently now cause school just finished xD
2) Don't be a shy reader. If you like this story and feel like you're going to follow through with it or want me to update quick, then tell me. also as much as i appreciate every comment i get since someone took their time to write one, i appreciate ones with feedback because those actually help. And it means my writing will be better and what you read will be better.
Okay. that's enough typing. i'm off to sleep. remember to comment/subscribe x