[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/J2TXR0E.jpg[/img] [img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/180209/1861b93c706c8ba94e4eabeefe3d128b.png[/img] [sub][color=483d8b]Location:[/color] Grimaldi's [color=483d8b]Interacting with:[/color] Zoya?[/sub] [hr][hr] [/center] [center][sup]"Our wounds are often the openings into the best and most beautiful part of us." ― [b]David Richo[/b][/sup][/center] [b]SOMETIMES CAMERON WISHED THAT SHE DIDN'T HAVE A PSYCHIATRIST FOR AN AUNTIE[/b], that whenever something "traumatic" or "damaging" happened to her, she wouldn't have to sit in her mother's best friend's home office acting as though she were one of her patients. To tell the truth, she didn't want to answer questions like "how did that make you feel?" or "what made you do that?" She wanted to lay in her bed with the covers pulled over her head. She wanted to put in her earbuds and drown out the rest of the world with music. She wanted to forget about the stupid [i]Barracuda Virus[/i] and losing one of her closest friends. But there she was, laying down in the uncomfortable reclining chair at nearly two o'clock in the afternoon because, instead of going out to celebrate the passing of the virus like every other teenager in the area, she was stuck reliving the experience. Cam laid with her arms crossed over her stomach and her eyes closed, thinking that maybe if she pretended to fall asleep, her aunt Debra wouldn't barrage her with questions. She was almost sure that she was successful until she heard her aunt clear her throat and flip a page in her notepad. She was ready. "With all that you've experienced over the past few weeks, it all must have been very traumatic," Debra said, and Cam couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. Of course it was traumatic. It wasn't everyday that you saw a dead body in a high school bathroom. It wasn't everyday that everyone in the city caught some fatal, incurable virus. [i]It wasn't everyday that you lost your best friend.[/i] Still, Cameron shrugged her shoulders to show that she wasn't ignoring her, and Debra scribbled a few words in her notepad. "Maybe you can start at the beginning. Tell me everything that happened." Another eye-roll. The room remained silent for a few minutes before Cameron finally spoke. She knew that she wasn't going to get out of the uncomfortable position until she started to talk. [color=483d8b][b]"I was supposed to have a test in calculus that day,"[/b][/color] she said, shutting her eyes once more, [color=483d8b][b]"I actually studied for it a few weeks ago, you know. I never study, but I needed to get my grade up or else I wouldn't have been able to exempt my midterm exams."[/b][/color] "Cameron," her mother said from the opposite side of the room, but she kept going. [color=483d8b][b]"I studied. I made flashcards. I memorized all of those equations only to be sent home right before we were supposed to take the test. Ain't that some bullshit?"[/b][/color] Her eyes suddenly popped open and she glanced in her mother's direction. She had never said a curse word in front of any of her family members, even though they were aware that she had the mouth of a sailor. This was mostly out of respect; that and the fact that if she had said a bad word any other day, her mother would've slapped her silly. However, her mother looked unfazed by her foul language, so she closed her eyes again and continued. [color=483d8b][b]"If I would've known I was gonna end up skipping the test, I would have just stayed home. I could have gone to the mall or something, maybe even start some early Summer clothes shopping. But I did go to school that day, and I found a dead girl in the bathroom."[/b][/color] "How do you feel now?" Debra asked, and she scoffed. [color=483d8b][b]"I really wish I could have taken that test."[/b][/color] Cameron answered the rest of her aunt's questions until her notepad was full with notes and scribbles. She couldn't help but wonder what Debra wrote down on the page, because not much she said seemed to be of any importance. She didn't give direct answers, so maybe that's what she wrote. Maybe she wrote that she was still in shock, which wouldn't be completely inaccurate. She told Cameron that she was free to go when the clock struck three, so she gathered her things and headed out of the front doors and straight to the subway station. She didn't bother to wait for her mother. For the past week, the two had been practically glued at the hip, so she was eager to finally spend some time alone now that she'd gotten over the virus. All over the city people were finally mustering up the courage to step foot out into the world; shops and restaurants had reopened, school was due to open in another few weeks, and the subway was just as packed as it was the day before shit went down. Cameron sat in an empty seat on the subway, watching with a mixture of fascination and disgust as the older man sitting across from her picked at a scab on his elbow. The first place Cameron went to after she got off the train was Grimaldi’s, ready to return to work. The pizza shop had been open for a little over two weeks, but Mr. Moretti had insisted on Cam staying home for another week to be sure that she'd gotten over the virus. Of course, she understood. That didn't mean that she had looked forward to another week of being her mother's patient. [color=483d8b]"[i][b]buon pomeriggio[/b][/i],"[/color] Cameron called to the Italian man as she walked through the front doors, [color=483d8b][b]"guess who's virus free?"[/b][/color] Mr. Moretti simply laughed at Cameron's pronunciation of the Italian greeting and tossed an apron her way. She caught it with ease, pulling off her jacket and tying the apron around her waist as she headed towards the back to wash her hands. "[i]Ben tornato[/i]," the man said, "welcome back." Cameron got back to work immediately; she hadn't realized just how much she'd missed making pizzas in the sultry little pizzeria. Pretty soon, she was back in her usual groove. She'd forgotten all about the stupid [i]Barracuda Virus[/i] and the toll it had taken. That is, until the bell above the entrance door rang, signaling a new customer. [color=483d8b][b]"We'll be right with you,"[/b][/color] Cam yelled from the back, quickly wiping the flour from her hands and grabbing a fresh pad and pen. She hurried out of the kitchen and to the front counter, but nearly screamed when she saw who was waiting for her. She looked the same exact same as the last time Cameron saw her: freshly done makeup, neatly braided hair, and a bright orange blouse that complemented her dark complexion. Zoya Williams leaned against the counter, her chin resting in the palm of her hand and her usual, cheeky grin plastered on her face. In her empty hand was a crumpled ten dollar bill, ready to be spent on her usual slice of Brooklyn Bridge pizza. Was Cameron finally losing her mind? Maybe [i]this[/i] was the final stage of the virus. [i]Insanity[/i]. Nonetheless, Cameron approached the counter with caution, blinking hard to be sure that her eyes were not deceiving her. Zoya laughed her silvery laugh at the young woman's facial expression, and Cam nearly fainted. "You're not supposed to be here," Cameron said as her best friend continued to laugh. "Now, is that the proper way to greet your best friend?" Zo said with one last giggle. [color=483d8b][b]"You're dead."[/b][/color] "Obviously not, if I'm standing right in front of you." Zo retorted. Cameron shook her head in disbelief, placing the empty pad and pen down on the counter before turning to grab her purse from the nearby table. She was officially losing her mind, and she needed to get away. "Where do you think you're going? I haven't ordered my pizza yet, [i]Cammy[/i]," Zo said, and Cameron couldn't help but shiver at the sound of the old nickname. Still, she didn't turn back to face the other girl, instead focusing on putting on her jacket. "You can't ignore me forever, Cammy," Zoya said, but Cameron still would not face her. [color=483d8b][b]"Please, just go away."[/b][/color] Cameron said, raising her voice an octave and shutting her eyes, [color=483d8b][b]"I don't need this, Jesus. Not today."[/b][/color] Cameron's eyes were shut for what seemed like forever before a familiar deep voice pulled her back to reality. "[i]Cosa sta succedendo[/i]," Mr. Moretti said as he came from the kitchen, "what's going on? Is everything alright, Cam? Your shift isn't over for another couple of hours." The young woman slowly reopened her eyes, taking a deep breath before turning back to the counter. [i]Zoya was gone.[/i]