The Revenge That Sparked Love

"Awaken, Camila, my dear." Oh no. In the hopes that Mamá-Rosa would get the message and leave, I moaned into my pillow. Her voice, however, only grew louder. "Camila Delgado! Don't Force me to use the heavy weapons. First day of senior year is not to be taken lightly. As usual before 8 a.m., my mind was slow and hazy. The thought of leaving my cosy and secure blanket made my stomach turn. "Ten more minutes!" I croaked. Her footsteps pounded down the corridor, and I could hear them. "No, not for ten minutes.Do you remember how you missed Picture Day last year? Please don't force me to start dancing. "Please don't—" However, it was too late. She was there when the bedroom door flew open. In all her glory of the early morning. Those slippers—bright pink bunnies with googly eyes—the fuzzy robe flapping like a superhero cape, hair tied up in an uneven bun. She began her trademark "wake-up dance". One leg kicking, hips wriggling, and arms flapping like wings in a move that could have been prohibited in six nations. "Mom! Stop! I turned over and buried my face in my pillow. "This is cruelty to children." "Camila, this is love," she chuckled. "Now get up, or I'll begin singing next." I felt lightheaded from sitting up so quickly. "You wouldn't." Yes, I would. Do you recall that I was a member of a church choir? "Sopraaanooo!" I winced when she sang one loud note. "All right! All right! I'm awake. Please don't hurt me. "Well done. I prepared pancakes. I brushed the hair away from my face and sighed. Another academic year. The same mayhem. The same early mornings. same crazy, but wonderful, mother. This time, though, something felt different. Perhaps the pressure was to blame. final year. applications to colleges. final scores. Everyone anticipated that I would be prepared and shine. On the inside, though, I thought I was still catching up. I dragged myself into the shower and changed into my favourite outfit, which consists of faded blue jeans, a crisp white t-shirt and white trainers that had seen better days. One of the few items my dad left behind was a little necklace he gave me when I was eight years old, which I added. I brushed my dark hair back as I gazed at my image in the mirror. My eyes appeared weary and uncertain. I made an effort to smile, but it fell short of my eyes. I told myself, "You can do this." Day by day. I went back to my room, picked up my backpack, and took out a pen from my drawer. At that moment, I noticed an old photograph peeking out from beneath a notebook. I went cold. It was him, Mamá-Rosa, and me. My dad. I was in the middle of laughing, about seven years old, with chocolate all over my dress. As if he had the entire world in his hands, Dad was grinning while cradling me in his arms. Before I could stop them, tears stung my eyes. For what reason did he depart? Why didn't he bid them farewell? "Camila!" From the kitchen, Mamá-Rosa called. "Your pancakes are cooling down!" I hurriedly wiped my eyes and pushed the picture back into the drawer. Even though the pain persisted, I put it back in the box I had been keeping hidden for years. My stomach rumbled from the smell of pancakes downstairs. "Are you okay, my love?" When I walked in, Mamá-Rosa asked. I gave a quick nod. Indeed. Simply exhausted. She looked at me like that. The type that said, "I won't push you right now, but I know you're lying." She then placed another pancake on my plate. "Come on in. You will require as much energy as possible. I took a bite and grinned. She was correct. For school, for feelings I couldn't comprehend, and for memories I tried not to lose myself in, I needed strength. The door was then knocked on. Mamá-Rosa's expression brightened. "Ooooh. Is that Romeo of yours? I let out a groan. "Mom." Humming a dramatic love song under her breath, she walked confidently to the front door. It turned out to be Alejandro. My partner. Tall, slender, wearing jeans and a hoodie, and grinning that endearing grin of his. He appeared as though he was part of a teen drama billboard. "Good morning, Señora Delgado." "Good morning, Guapo. Camila has just finished her morning meal. Enter. He entered and approached me. "Hi, drowsy head." I blushed when he kissed my cheek, partly because Mamá-Rosa was watching like it was her favourite telenovela, and partly because of the kiss itself. She said, "Want pancakes?" "Thanks, I'm fine. consumed a protein bar. I gave an eye roll. You did, of course. You and those items. "Hey, they work well." "Anything that improves your shooting." Mamá-Rosa gave a wink. Don't break my daughter's heart, please. Or I'll break your kneecaps. Unaware that she might mean it, he laughed. I picked up my bag after breakfast and went to Alejandro's car. It was gleaming black and far too elegant for a high school student. He bought it after years of saving. One of his many qualities that I found admirable. As we drove, he asked, "Are you nervous?" "Kinda." "You'll be alright. You always are. I wanted to think he was real. But deep down, I didn’t feel fine. I had a strange feeling. As if I wasn't prepared for the significant change that was about to happen. The front courtyard at Monteverde High was bustling with students. Everyone were embracing, giggling, snapping selfies, and flaunting their new hairstyles and attire. The typical madness of the first day. Alejandro leaned over and parked. "See you at lunch?" "Yes." He gave me another kiss before jogging in the direction of the gym. Trying not to get bumped by eager freshmen, I made my way to my locker. Someone slammed into me from behind as I opened the door. My books were all over the floor. "Hi!" I whirled around and snapped. "Observe it—" "I apologise," the man said. I saw him at that point. A tall, athletic figure with untidy dark hair and a face reminiscent of one seen on a movie poster. However, his attitude was more important than his appearance. He stood as if he didn't give a damn about what he knocked over or who I was. He was... brand-new. And utterly confident in himself. He grinned and added, "Didn't see you there." I stooped to pick up my books and yelled, "Maybe try looking next time." He also stooped to give me my folder. I grabbed it from him and declared, "I have it." "Calm down. I'm only attempting to assist, Camila. I went cold. "How are you aware of my name?" He merely grinned. "Good guess." Then he turned to leave. My heart was racing as I stood there. "Who the hell was that?" I muttered. Valeria, who has been my best friend since kindergarten, showed up next to me a second later. "I saw that, girl. Mateo just bumped into you as if he owned the corridor. "Mateo?" "New man. Torres Mateo, transferred from a Madrid private school. "Oh. Fantastic. "But he's hot." “Don’t even start.” "You looked." "I wasn't." She arched an eyebrow. Your ears became red. I know that way. I groaned. "My boyfriend is with me." "It does not imply that you are blind." I didn't answer. I was at a loss for words. My mind had been more disturbed by that encounter than it should have been. He seemed to already know me based on the way he said my name. However, how? I made an effort to ignore it as we entered English class. made an effort to act as though this was just another first day. However, it wasn't. I knew deep down that it wasn't. There was an impending event. A shift. A tempest. Perhaps a secret. And I didn't know what it was. Mateo Torres, however, was involved in some way. Senior year felt much less predictable all of a sudden.