Her file was an odd one that Sheriff Jauregui found particularly interesting. The girl's name was Camila Cabello; age sixteen, five-foot-two, dark brown hair, and chocolate eyes that held all the secrets of her past. She was silent, extremely shy and obviously uncomfortable sitting in one of the plastic chairs from across the desk. Every time an officer would pass by, she would nervously glance at them and shift in her place before returning her gaze to the floor.

"Camila," he speaks her name and she looks up at him through long lashes, her knuckles turning white from gripping the edge of her seat. "Do you like to read?" he asks, recalling the small note scribbled at the bottom of one of her papers. She gives the older man a small nod.

Her parents had died two Octobers ago, a car crash they said could've happened as the result of the engine being tampered with but upon further examination, realized it was merely because her father had one drink two many. They were the only family she ever had. Camila soon fell into depression, struggling to find a way to live without having to undergo the care of the government. She worked three jobs day in and day out, jumping around from place to place though more often than not paying for a hotel room. She kept all of her belongings in a single duffel bag that she carried with her everywhere; two of her favorite books, extra clothing, a spare pair of shoes and lots of loose change. She barely made ends meet.

The sheriff watched with care in his eyes as her fingers trailed over the spines of the antique books lining a single wall in the small thrift shop. He counted and recounted, seventeen of them that she'd never read. And he bought them all.

The final bell rang down the empty halls of Miami High and Lauren Jauregui appreciably shoves all of her things into her backpack. She throws a polite smile her teacher's way, telling her to have a good weekend before practically sprinting down the hall to her locker where her best friend, Normani Kordei, waited.

"Lucy Vives is going to ask you to the movies next Friday!" the dark haired girl informs Lauren which causes her to frantically look around. Lucy Vives was known by everybody, especially Lauren. She'd had a crush on her starting freshman year when she moved in from a city a few miles away. She was kind and never really got on anyone's bad side but she hardly ever noticed people like Normani and Lauren.

She shakily opened her locker as Normani continues to ramble on about how she's overheard "so and so" say something else to "what's her face" and how she texted "that one guy" and a bunch of other meaningless crap that couldn't help distract Lauren from the thought of Lucy asking her out. As soon as she closes the metal door to the locker, she yelped out in surprise because there she was, long tan legs and a white as snow smile.

"Hey, you're in my econ class. Lauren, right?" was all she said but Lauren's mouth moved up and down as she searched for a proper response. Lucy seemed to notice, continuing to speak as not to create silence. "Right... So, um, I was wondering if maybe you'd wanna see a movie with me sometime. Maybe, like, next Friday?"

Normani has to push her a little for the girl to snap out her thoughts. "Yeah! Yeah, y-you text me?" she manages. Lucy laughs with a nod before saying her goodbye and walking off. The girls push and shove each other excitedly before walking out of school towards the parking lot.

-

Camila peers into the white-walled room with slight curiosity, her eyes flickering from the shelves above the bed that were blank and screaming to be filled mile high with the books that now weighed down her bag. There was desk and a dresser as well, no decorations on the wall besides a picture frame with the store bought family photo still inside. Mr. Jauregui brushes past the girl with a polite smile as he sets her things down on the white comforter.

"Bathrooms down the hall, Lauren's bedroom is next door and if the front door opens and you hear constant rambling, it's probably just her. She may have her best friend, Normani, with her and if you need anything, call. Okay?" Mr. Jauregui explains quickly and she gives a single nod. She seemed so small and trapped in a shell that was bulletproof but the man was trying his best anyway. Just as he was about to pass by her again to go into work, her voice stops him.

"Sir?" It was the first time since they'd brought her to the station that he'd heard her speak and she seemed more fragile than before. "Thank you," the girl squeaks. He smiles and envelopes her in a hug that she really had no choice in.

"I'll leave some money on the counter for pizza. Feel free to look around," he kisses the top of her head before going downstairs. Brown eyes scan over the space that she would be living in for God knows how long. With a shaky breath, she fully enters the room, feet padding across the floor to where her things sat on the foot of her bed.

The books were stacked haphazardly across her clothes and she smiled at each title before neatly setting them next to the duffel bag. She didn't have a lot, a couple of t-shirts, three pair of jeans and a light jacket that never really kept off the cold. The air conditioning clicked on and cool air spewed into the room sending goosebumps across her skin. She shivered, deciding that despite the Florida temperatures, shorts and a thin shirt probably weren't the best fashion choice.

Camila looked across the room once more, spying a large hoodie hanging off the back of the desk chair and she gratefully grabs onto the material and slips it over her head. Navy blue wasn't always her favorite but at least she was warm. After pulling off her shoes, she continues to put away her things and a kind of sadness washes over her at the fact that it only took her two minutes to do so.

She wasn't one to snoop, wasn't one to go through others stuff but there was one thing she was curious about. Standing in the doorway of her room, she looks to her right to spot a white door open just wide enough for her to see the pale blue paint and the numerous posters covering it. Lauren's Room, she thought and bit her lip to keep her feet from wandering towards the place she knew she shouldn't look.

But it didn't help as she eventually stepped out of the doorway and into the other room instead.

As she pushed the door open wider, she promised herself that she wouldn't go inside, only linger by the white wooden trim. The bed was messy and unmade and Camila assumed that if her father had known he'd be bringing the girl to his home, he would've forced his daughter to make it. Her desk was piled high with papers that fell to the floor and a laptop that was completely covered in stickers from the band The 1975. The posters she'd glanced at on the wall earlier were of bands and tv shows and movies she'd never heard of before and suddenly she wanted to know all of them and she figured Lauren did.

The front door clicked open to let in shouts and protests of a conversation Camila didn't care to bother decipher because she was too busy scrambling back to the safety of her room. The slam of her door stops the girls conversation from downstairs.

"You have a ghost in your house you want to tell me about?" Normani leans over to ask Lauren as they both stare at the stairs in wonder. Lauren grips onto her backpack tighter.

"I didn't think he was being serious..." she mumbles, mostly to herself. A few days ago her father had mentioned bringing in a girl, around her age, to stay with them. He'd briefly explained her situation with as little detail as possible because it was 'police business' and 'nothing she should worry about'. Normani didn't question it, recalling how her friend had mentioned it at lunch the other day, as they both trudged upstairs.

"Should we be polite and introduce ourselves?" Normani whispers as they reach the second floor and Lauren eyes the room with the recently closed door.

"Nah," the raven haired girl tries to head for her sanctuary but Normani being Normani had meant it more as a statement than an actual question. She pulled Lauren back by the little handle on the top of her backpack causing her to sigh before politely knocking on the door. No answer. So she knocked again. Still no answer.

After clearing her throat, Lauren places a hesitant hand on the doorknob and Normani nods before she slowly turns it. She didn't know what to expect. Some horrid looking girl with warts on her face that would remind her of the witches she drew in elementary? But instead, as the door swung open and the knob hit the wall behind it, there stood a girl with wide eyes on the guest bed. She had too many books to hold in her hands and one of them almost fell but she caught it before it left her arms and then proceeded to line it on one of the shelves overhead. No one said anything, just drank in each-others appearances.

She was, as promised, her age with tan skin that made her chocolate brown eyes stand out and appear larger than they already were from surprise. Her hair fell in dark brown tangles down to her waist and it curled against the navy blue softball hoodie she remembered leaving against the guest desk chair the day before when she'd been in here studying. The girl stared back at her as if she held a gun in her hand and was asking her for all the money in her pockets.

Lauren. The name she knew in the back of her head but couldn't leave her lips at the sight of her. Black hair flipped over in a swift direction with emerald green eyes to match. Flecks of color tinted her cheeks that she assumed were either moles or freckles (possibly both), but Camila didn't dare get any closer to find out.

"You must be Camila," she smiles politely and Camila eyes her without a single response before returning to stacking the books on her shelves.

The girls exchange a look. "Right... Well, I'm Lauren and this is my best friend, Normani," she claps her friend on the back, "and, uh, welcome. I guess."

Camila glances over her shoulder at them, a blank expression fanning her face. Their eyes meet for a split second and she frantically returns her gaze to the comfort of her new books.

"Well, we'll be in my room if you need me," Lauren sighs. No response. Not a word. "Nice hoodie," she comments before they were finally gone, respectfully closing the door behind them.

Camila lets out a breath she'd been holding in, dropping the books in her arms as some of them fall to the floor while others bounce off the mattress. She peels the hoodie from her body, staring at the material as she reads the name Jauregui across the back. A blush forms across her face and she throws the material to the ground with the realization that she'd been wearing Lauren's hoodie.

_

i just want to say that this story is: not mine, converted to camren, and mainly something for my own fun and joy

[ edited on June 4, 2019 ]