The morning kept replaying in my head as Sky and I threaded through the crowded hallways.Camilla Devereux. Even her name sounded like it belonged in the margins of a classic novel — elegant, deliberate, memorable. There was no denying it: she had gravity. The kind that bent attention without asking for it.
Sky, of course, filled the silence with commentary.
"So? Harper's class — verdict?" he asked. "Not exactly your standard grammar-and-snooze session."
"Not even close," I said. "It was… different. In a good way. Makes you think about what words actually do."
"Exactly. Way better than death by PowerPoint," he said. "And your answer? 'Hate'? Strong first impression. Deep, but not try-hard deep."
"Glad I passed inspection," I muttered, though my mind had drifted elsewhere — to observant eyes and a measured smile from the front row.
Sky caught it instantly. "You're still thinking about her."
"You read people too easily," I said.
"It's a survival skill." He grinned. "You're new. People notice new. But someone like Camilla noticing you? That's rarer."
"Someone like her?" I asked.
"Top student. Debate captain. Socially untouchable in the non-snob way. She's the kind of person teachers quote and students compete with." He shrugged. "Not known for wasting time."
"And yet here you are writing my legend already."
"Someone has to," he said. "You're welcome."
The bell cut through the hallway noise.
"Chemistry," Sky groaned. "Let's see if your genius streak continues."
The rest of the day blurred into introductions, schedules, and careful observation. New names. New faces. New patterns. I answered when spoken to, listened more than I talked, and avoided standing out more than necessary.
Still, my thoughts kept circling back — not just to Camilla's sharp attention — but to Bella too. The difference between them was impossible to ignore. Camilla drew people in with brilliance and ease. Bella held people at a distance like winter sunlight — admired, followed, never touched. Except with me… she was different. Unarmored. Real.
That contrast stayed with me longer than it should have.
After the final bell, instead of heading straight home, I wandered. The campus opened up in the afternoon — courtyards breathing, trees whispering, the noise thinning into pockets of calm. I found a shaded bench near the library and let myself sit, finally alone with my thoughts.
"Marx Cartez, right?"
I looked up.
Camilla stood a few steps away, a leather-bound notebook tucked against her side. Up close, her composure was even more precise — not cold, not warm — intentional. Like every word she spoke had already passed inspection.
"That's me," I said, standing a little too quickly.
"Your answer in class," she said. "'Hate.' I didn't expect that."
"Is that good or bad?"
"Good," she replied simply. "Most people choose safe answers on day one. You didn't."
"I just followed the question where it led," I said.
"That's rarer than you think." Her gaze studied me, not unkindly — analytically. "You should visit debate club."
I blinked. "Debate?"
"You think structurally," she said. "You separate words from intent. That's useful there." A slight tilt of her head. "Wednesdays. Library. No obligation."
Before I could form a proper response, she turned and walked off — smooth, self-contained, already onto the next thing.
I stood there processing.
Sky was going to explode when he heard this.
I found him near the front courtyard, sitting cross-legged on a low wall, phone glowing in his hands. He looked up and instantly grinned like he'd caught a secret on camera.
"Well, if it isn't today's headline," he said. "Where've you been? Signing autographs?"
"Walking," I said. "Breathing. Existing."
"And definitely not talking to Camilla?"
I failed to hide the smile fast enough.
Sky gasped. "I knew it."
"She invited me to debate club," I said. "That's it."
He put a hand over his heart. "That's not it. That's an event."
"It's an invitation."
"It's a selection. She doesn't just recruit randomly."
"You're making it sound like a secret order."
"Give it time."
We started toward the gate, Sky spinning increasingly dramatic theories about intellectual trials and verbal combat tournaments. I let him talk. It was easy with him — easy in a way most people weren't.
But beneath the humor, another thought lingered quietly:
Camilla saw how I think.Bella saw who I am.
And somehow, that difference mattered more.