Page 12 of Catching Camila

“Hello?”

“Camila Acha?” an unfamiliar male voice asked.

“Yeah?” She stepped toward the back and put a finger in her ear to drown out the background noise.

“My name's Ben.” He paused. “My mom is your Aunt Beatriz.”

Camila felt a cold sweat break out across her back. “She is?”

“Yeah.” His voice was tense, almost angry. “Your call last night really messed her up. She's been crying all night.”

“I…I'm sorry. I just… My mom needs help.”

He snorted into the phone. “You're mom has some nerve asking for help after what she did.”

“What did she do that—”

“Look. Don't call here again. We don't want all that drama back in their lives.”

“Wait, I—”

He hung up.

Camila stared at the phone, feeling slapped.

After a moment she pulled out the slip of paper with the family names on it. Slowly penned the word Ben below Aunt Beatriz. Then she ran her pen through it.

She had gained and lost a cousin in a matter of minutes.

Mama had a lot of explaining to do.

* * *

Tuesday 9:05 p.m.

Camila openedthe freezer and pressed her forehead to the cold metal door. Her shirt clung to both pits, her ponytail had come loose, and wet strands were stuck to the back of her neck.

Her first day on the job was over.

“Brutal, right?” Fer asked as she slumped against the wall. Sweat dappled Fer’s forehead and glistened on her upper lip. Her size-eighteen body sagged from every angle. She dug out another Kit Kat and snapped it between her teeth.

Camila scraped some ice from the clump clinging to the freezer wall and pressed it to the back of her neck. “Why didn’t you tell me this job was like working in the depths of hell?”

“Because,” Fer said, chewing, “misery loves company. Can’t sweat my ass off alone.”

Camila threw a hunk of ice at her. Fer dodged and threw the remaining Kit Kat half at Camila’s head. “Hey!” Camila said. “That’s chocolate abuse.”

“Here,” Fer dug another out of the jar in between the Heath bars, Nerds and chocolate chips. She tossed the Kit Kat in a clean arch. Camila caught it and took a bite.

“Perks of the job,” Fer said, chomping on another. “Lizzy doesn’t care if we eat the merchandise as long as we don’t go crazy. Now,” Fer rubbed her palms together, “Travis took off early to smoke a bowl or whatever, so I’m in charge.” She raised an eyebrow and twiddled her fingers evilly. “Mwa, ha, ha. You will do my bidding, minion.”

Camila crossed her arms over her chest. “Minion? Who let you copy all year in Algebra?”

Fer dropped her maniacal smirk. “Fine. Forget the minion part. Just take out the trash and I’ll mop up.”

Camila looked at the bulging trash barrel next to the counter. Then she spied the one overflowing onto the cement outside. She suspected she was still a minion.

She yanked out both bags, dropping a glop of chocolate ice cream on one shoe and smearing something unidentifiable on her arm. Then she dragged them to the dark back lot where the dumpster sat reeking. The rancid smell of garbage made her gag, but she held her breath and heaved the first bag in.

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