Page 1 of #Lovestrong

Lena

Homecoming is three weeks away, and I've got a hot date and an even hotter dress.

Cameron and I aren't technically going steady, but we've been talking for a month. At the beginning of the year, I told Camilla, my best friend, I wasn't worrying about dating. Junior year is for college applications, sports, and important pre-college things.

But I've crushed on Cameron since we were in third grade. How can I say no when I've waited eight years for this chance?

Him asking me to be his date was way more drama than it needed to be though. I glance behind me, my eyes falling on Peter. He's sitting alone at a table against the wall. He always sits alone. We've been in classes together since first grade. Decleburg, Virginia, is a town the size of a soup can, so everyone pretty much knows everyone.

Peter asked me to Homecoming two days after Cameron, and of course, I said no. Not that I have an issue with Peter— I don't. We've known each other forever and live on the same street. We don't run in the same social circles, but that doesn't mean I would've said no if he'd asked before Cameron.

The day after, though, he picked the combination to my locker and left a note demanding to know why I wouldn't go out with him. I ignored it, but the day after that, he waited for me after soccer practice. He hid under the bleachers and scared the living shit out of me when I finally came off the field.

I went to the guidance counselor after that, and she said she'd have a talk with him. After that, he came into homeroom two days later, called me a bitch, and hasn't spoken to me since. I feel really bad because I don't want anyone to be mad at me. It's really not personal. It's just, Cameron asked first.

I lift my hand and wave to Peter, but he narrows his eyes and turns his head to stare out the window into the Senior Courtyard. I stare at the back of his head, trying to figure out if I should go talk to him and apologize or just ignore it.

Oh, hell.

Leaving my tray on the table, I get up from the too small bench, my legs getting pinched as I stand. The cafeteria is so crowded. That's the problem with a small high school— only two lunch periods, which mix all four grade levels.

As I make my way toward Peter, he stands up and sets a duffel bag on the table. He's been carrying that thing all day, and I wonder if he's planning to finally try out for sports. He used to play football when we were really little, but quit before middle school.

He's unzipping it and pulling out something kind of long just as Cameron walks into me and wraps his arms around my waist.

"Hey ya, beautiful," he says, kissing my cheek.

I giggle and kiss his cheek back. "Hey, Cam. What took you so long?"

"Eh, Calculus teacher wanted to ta—"

My ears ring, screams erupt, and deafening popping sounds echo off the walls as pain rips through my left side. Cameron's arms tighten around me as he pulls me to his chest, holding my head against him. The popping continues and before we hit the ground, another shattering pain radiates through my shoulder and Cameron's body convulses several times.

Something clanks loudly against the floor and I look around, red seeping across the white floor in every direction. Another loud pop goes off and then it's nothing but distant screams. My ears hurt, and I can't move my left arm. I glance down at Cameron, his chest covered in red. I push on him to roll him over, repeating his name.

He doesn't say anything.

Crawling to my knees, I grab his face. His eyes are open, staring at the ceiling.

"Cam! No, no, no, Cam! Don't do this! Help is coming! Someone! Help us!"

I hold him against me, screaming for help, frantically looking around the room. My breath catches in my throat and I sob as my eyes land on Camilla. She lies sideways on a table bench, blood dripping from her hand which hangs down, unmoving.

What the fuck just happened?

My whole body goes numb and my eyes fall on Peter. He's lying next to the table where he was sitting, a handgun still in his hand and a larger gun by his feet, blood pooling around his head.

Peter did this? No. He wouldn't do something like this.

A strong grasp grabs my good arm and tries to pull me away from Cameron.

No! I can't leave him. I won't. Crying, I scream and kick, grabbing for Cameron's hand.

As I'm pulled outside the cafeteria and into the front hall, something pinches my good arm and calm floods my system as I'm lowered onto something soft. My eyes droop heavily and I fight to stay awake. I can't go to sleep. I have to find Cameron and Camilla. They can't be left alone. Someone needs to stay with them.

They need me.

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