In Spirit and Truth (In Spiritu Et Veritate Series)

by Reed, Zoe

  I waited for my name to be called, watching the other students get up to meet their partners and hoping that whoever mine was wouldn’t drive me crazy by the end of the semester. I wouldn’t have minded being partnered with Maggie, but if I remembered correctly her last name started with a ‘C’.

  The teacher finally got to my last name and put the roll sheet down on his desk. “Walters and Zade. Okay guys settle in next to your partners. I repeat: you’ll be together for the rest of the semester. So get comfortable with each other.”

  I glanced around trying to find whoever my partner was when the same tall blonde dropped her seemingly empty backpack on the floor next to me. “Miss Walters,” she greeted with a small smile.

  “Oh, hi,” I said, surprised but not unpleased. From what I’d gathered in our conversation earlier the blonde seemed a little nervous, but she made me laugh, and didn’t seem like the type who’d make too disappointing a partner. “You’re my partner huh?”

  “Looks that way, doesn’t it?” She grinned at me happily, sitting down in the chair next to mine and pulling it closer to the two-seater table.

  Now that she seemed more relaxed, probably because her toes didn’t feel broken, I couldn’t help but smile back at her natural charisma. It was so natural it was almost magnetic. “What’s your name again? I don’t think you mentioned it before.”

  “Camille,” she answered instantly, charmingly sticking out her hand for me to shake.

  I took her hand in a surprisingly tight grip and shook it, amazed by the fiery warmth her body gave off. “It’s nice to officially meet you, Camille.”

  “Nice to meet you too, Kyla.” She dropped my hand and sat there, holding my eye contact.

  At first I thought nothing of it, but as I realized Camille was staring, that I was being studied, I looked away uncomfortably. I didn’t mind being studied from a distance, where I could act like I didn’t notice or feel like I had to make conversation. Camille was close though, and she watched me with mindless intensity as if she wasn’t aware she was doing it. It shouldn’t have made me as nervous as it did, considering I’d been caught doing the same thing minutes earlier. But she seemed so consumed by her thoughts that I wasn’t really sure what to say. So I sat there, distractedly clicking out more lead from my pencil as I waited enduringly for her to snap out of it.

  Luckily the teacher broke the blonde’s gaze by handing us each a piece of paper with a list of questions we were supposed to ask our partner, and I sighed inwardly, relieved I had something to ask about. “I guess I’ll start. What’s your middle name?”

  “Leila,” Camille answered simply. I put my pencil to the paper and stopped, unsure of how to spell it. She must have noticed because she spelled it out for me, curiously leaning over to watch me write down every letter. “L-E-I-L-A.”

  Camille grinned back as I smiled my thanks, saying her full name while I wrote it down. “Camille Leila Zade.”

  “And yours is?” Camille started, expectantly putting her own pen to the paper, ready to write.

  I paused, contemplating making up a middle name, or telling her that I didn’t have one. In elementary school it never bothered me, but when I reached junior high and people started laughing about it, I stopped giving that information freely. However, a grade depended on this and I didn’t want my new partner to think I wouldn’t care about the class, so I cleared my throat before answering quietly, “Kirby.”

  One side of Camille’s mouth turned up in a poorly concealed smile, and as I blushed I passed her a scolding look. “It’s not that bad,” she reassured me, and even though she successfully wiped the smile off her face it could still be seen in the brightness of her brown eyes.

  “I know it’s terrible.” I couldn’t help but chuckle out of light embarrassment. Every other laugh or smile I’d received about my middle name had been one of mockery, except Camille’s. When she realized I was embarrassed about it, it seemed she made an effort not to make it worse. Maybe that’s why for the first time ever I was able to laugh about it myself.

  “No really.” Camille smiled warmly, watching her paper as she scribbled the letters in blue ink. “I think it’s cute.”

  The out-of-place reassurance was surely meant as platonically as possible, but it hadn’t entirely sounded that way, which caused me to look down awkwardly. Sensing that awkwardness Camille cleared her throat in mirrored discomfort. It was because of the way she’d been staring at me, and how she’d turned around in her seat and her eyes found me. That’s why it had sounded strange. Really, she was probably just as curious about me as all the other students had been all day. After the flash of squeamishness settled from my stomach, I realized by Camille’s unease that she truly hadn’t meant it to sound the way it did. Besides, I liked even such a minimal compliment from someone who looked like a potential supermodel. It made me feel pretty good about myself.

  Finally, after another moment, the tension fully subsided and I found I’d created a long silence, so I quickly asked the next question. “When’s your birthday?”

  “April twenty-ninth,” Camille answered, waiting for me to finish writing before asking the same question. “And yours?”

  I adjusted the paper so it was facing me straighter, and then looked up at her. “September second.”

  She was about to write it down, but stopped and looked up with a grin. “Hey, we just missed your birthday.” I couldn’t help but blush at her enthusiasm and the volume of the comment. “Happy birthday.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled sweetly but cast a shy glance around the room, hoping no one had overheard.

  Picking up on my discomfort, Camille playfully went along with the secretiveness, and after looking around stealthily she leaned forward to whisper. “Did you just turn sixteen?”

  I shook my head, giggling quietly at her humor. “Seventeen.”

  “Oh.” Her eyebrows furrowed and she leaned back thoughtfully. “Are you a senior?”

  “No, I’m a junior,” I told her, and then admitted with a bashful smile, “I got held back, in kindergarten of all things. I liked to talk more than finger paint I guess.” Camille smirked like she could believe it but didn’t say anything, so I continued. “What about you? Are you seventeen?”

  Like I had, she shook her head. “Eighteen.”

  She hadn’t said her grade, but given her age I figured it was safe to assume she was a senior. “You’re a Chatty-Cathy too, huh?” I asked teasingly, and my smile widened when she chuckled.

  “Not exactly,” the blonde answered as she absentmindedly set to scribbling blue lines on the corner of her paper. “I was home schooled, but my parents never really kept up with academic discipline. So when it came time to register for high school, I was a little behind.”

  “Oh, I see.” I nodded understandingly. Not knowing what else to say on the topic and not wanting any more awkward silences, I moved down to the next question. “How many siblings do you have and how old are they?”

  “Well, I have three brothers. My oldest brother, Carter, is thirty-two, Michael is twenty-four, and Niko is sixteen. I have an older sister Sky who is twenty-seven and a fraternal twin, Luna,” Camille answered, counted on her fingers thoughtfully as she mouthed the names of her siblings, and then nodded. “Yeah, I think that’s all of them.”

  “Wow, you have a lot of siblings,” I giggled in shock. “Your sister Luna’s in my math class I think. She’s definitely–” I remembered Luna introducing herself, and then thinking of the outlandish questions and comments the small blonde had made to me during class was going to say peculiar. Though, worried that would be offensive, I thought to reword my statement, “Isn’t shy.”

  Camille let out a knowing laugh. “You mean she’s crazy.” Her own derivation of the word ‘peculiar’ made me smile, a slight reassurance that I wouldn’t have been out of line.

  “I wasn’t going to use those exact words.” As I remembered one of the things Luna had told me I couldn’t help but grin. At the time it had j
ust been a weird conversation, but now that I’d met the subject of Luna’s story it was much more amusing. “But now that I think of it, she was telling me a story and mentioned you have a fear of orange vegetables.”

  “Oh my God, she told you that?” Camille’s smooth cheeks tinted a slight red as I nodded, but despite the blush she still let out a small laugh. “Okay, I was like seven, and it’s because I heard that if you eat too many carrots your skin turns yellow. I’m pretty sure that’s a legitimate fear.”

  “Uh huh, I’m sure it is.” I winked in sarcastic reassurance. Now I was glad I’d found something funny to talk to Camille about, since minutes before I worried things had started off too awkward.

  “I’m guessing if she told you that about me, she must have told you her story about the mutated pumpkins?” Camille asked, knowingly pointing her pen at me.

  I chuckled with an affirming nod. “Oh yeah, I heard plenty about that.” Luna’s stories had certainly been strange, and even now I wasn’t quite sure how she’d worked them in to casual conversation, but I didn’t take myself seriously enough to be weirded out by them.

  “Wow, she pulled out all the stops on you,” Camille laughed, a hint of shock widening her brown eyes. “It’s because you’re new,” she explained, thinking and then shaking her head with another laugh as if she could picture the exact things Luna had said. “She’ll do weird stuff just to see how you react to it. It’s mostly for her entertainment, but it’s also her way of figuring you out. If you didn’t run away screaming, you’re probably alright in her book.”

  I couldn’t help but giggle for a few seconds as I pictured myself running away screaming from an amused Luna. I knew Camille was watching me with a smirk, also pleased with the way the conversation was going. Though, by the way she fiddled busily with her pen it was also clear she was waiting politely for me to stop laughing so she could ask the next question.

  When I finally pushed the thought out of my mind and ceased my giggling, Camille put her pen to her paper as she asked, “How about you? How many siblings do you have?”

  “I have two older brothers. Scott’s nineteen and Jeremy is twenty-one,” I answered, and she nodded in acknowledgement. Based on my assessment of Luna, I got the feeling that Camille had a much more interesting family than I did.

  After writing down the names and ages of my brothers, Camille moved her pen down to the next question, read it to herself, and then looked up. “What kind of hobbies do you like?”

  I thought about it carefully before answering, glancing toward the ceiling so Camille would know I was mulling it over. There wasn’t a whole lot I was really fond of doing. Especially since, because of my family’s recent financial struggle, I didn’t get too much free time for hobbies. I liked being outdoors, so in Texas when I wasn’t doing chores I was usually riding horses or hanging outside with friends.

  “I like horseback riding,” I told her. “I play the guitar too, but it’s piddling mostly.”

  “Piddling?” Camille said deliberately and quietly, mostly to herself, but I still felt my cheeks grow hot at the confused side-glance I received while she wrote down my answer.

  “Sorry.” I let out an embarrassed laugh and covered my face with my hands, reluctant to let her see me blush. “I’m really not in Texas anymore.”

  “What is that?” she asked with genuine curiosity, seemingly unconcerned with my embarrassment. Every time I expected her to laugh at me or find something strange, she had a completely different reaction. So far she was receiving and even curious about what I assumed to be oddities without judgment. “Like messing around?”

  “Yeah,” I shrugged. I knew to the kids at my new school I’d have an accent, and I tried to tone it down so I wouldn’t feel too out of place. Guess I’d have to try a little harder. “Wasting time, messing around. Call it what you want.”

  “How long have you played for?” Camille leaned back in her seat and began to fidget with her now folded hands.

  As she did so, the distance allowed me to notice how casually she was dressed. She had on a pair of white slip-on sneakers, tight-fitted blue jeans and a plain, dark green t-shirt. A minimal amount of makeup seemed to be the only thing adorning her body, as there was lack of any jewelry even so simple as earrings. Even her hair hadn’t been purposefully styled. The loose, tousled curls looked completely natural and unintentional. Her nose was small and relatively straight, fitting perfectly between her curiously bright brown eyes, which had all the tone and brilliance of a citrine gemstone. Even her smile was uniquely perfect, straight across and curving up sharply at the edges. It sort of reminded me of the curly bracket on my computer’s keyboard, only less dramatic of course. If it weren’t for Camille’s inherent and stunning beauty, she’d have probably been the plainest person in the room.

  “Since I was about seven.” Again I blushed slightly as I watched Camille’s face brighten with the newfound information. It was obviously because she associated that length of time with a skill I wasn’t quite sure I possessed.

  “Do you write your own stuff?” She leaned forward and propped her chin in her palm, and the unexpected movement of her getting closer put jitters in my stomach.

  It had to be the way she kept staring at me. She was obviously trying to be lighthearted and funny, and while she was more than charismatic, it seemed difficult, forced. Like casual interaction took an effort. She was unpredictable, and I didn’t know what to expect from her. Most people seemed somewhat impressed when I told them I played guitar, but Camille was beyond fascinated.

  It was the combination of her interest and apparent apprehension at interacting with me that gave her an edgy quality. The intensity of the blonde’s eyes and incalculable personality were starting to make me nervous. I’d never met someone like Camille. Someone who was perhaps the most beautiful person I had ever seen, but who also didn’t stand out, maybe even tried to fly under the radar. The inviting warmth of her bright brown eyes conveyed a soft gentleness, and the depth claimed a certain mystery and danger that dared me to explore. She was puzzlingly captivating.

  In spite of the fact that I kept getting distracted by my thoughts, I answered fast and before another awkward silence had time to grow between us. “No, I usually just play acoustic covers of other songs.”

  “Oh, you sing too?” I watched Camille grin, clearly aware her intrigue was making me shy, but she didn’t seem to mind.

  I smiled and tried to play off the seriousness of my hobby. “I try my best to sing, but I honestly don’t think I’m very good at it.” Feeling like Camille was beginning to think I was some sort of undiscovered star, I made an attempt to turn the attention away from myself. “Enough about me though, what do you do for fun?”

  She seemed to smile at my modesty, and leaned back again to get comfortable before she answered. “I’m not too big on sports, but I like to run, and I really enjoy cooking. It’s sort of like my meditation. That’s one good thing about having Luna around. If I cook something when I’m not hungry, she could always finish the whole thing.”

  I laughed and was about to say something about my surprise at Luna’s appetite, but the teacher interrupted my response, “Listen up guys. Your assignment for the rest of the week is to get together with your partner and watch the movie I’m coming around to assign to you. I’m also going to be passing out a worksheet and your answers are due on Friday, one worksheet per group. No kindergarten answers people, please make an effort.” Once he finished talking he started passing around the worksheets.

  As we sat silently waiting for our teacher to assign us a movie, I continued to study my partner. The more I looked, the more perfect she appeared to be. Her body, although certainly feminine in features, was athletic and surprisingly toned. My eyes lead me down Camille’s muscled arms, where I noticed for the first time a dark blue tattoo. It was on the inside of her left arm just below her elbow and about the size of the palm of her hand, making me surprised I hadn’t noticed it sooner. Even though it didn
’t have Camille’s last name on it, it looked like a family crest. It was a shield with vine-like designs stretching out from behind it. Smack dab in the middle of the shield was the face of a wolf, split down the center into two mirroring halves inverted in color. A banner draped over the top of the shield read ‘In spiritu et veritate’.

  Out of the corner of my eye I could tell I’d been caught staring at it. When I looked up, it was confirmed, as Camille was still watching me closely, studying my reaction to the tattoo. “What’s it say?” I asked, somewhat embarrassed.

  Camille continued to just look at me for another second, as if debating whether or not she wanted to explain. She then leaned over and stretched her arm out over my half of the desk so I could get a better look. “It’s Latin. It means ‘In spirit and truth’.” I couldn’t help but run my fingers lightly over it, and Camille agilely pulled her arm back and laughed. “Hey, that tickles.”

  “Sorry.” I smiled at her innocently. I’d always wanted to get a tattoo, but old-fashioned as my parents were they wouldn’t even consider it until I was old enough to make the decision on my own. “How long have you had it?”

  She pulled her arm away and rubbed at the spot with a fond glow in her eye. “Since I was fourteen. It’s a family thing, sort of a coming of age tradition I guess you could say.”

  I turned my gaze away from Camille’s in a poor attempt to hide my shock at the young age, and continued to study the mark intently. “So everyone in your family has it? How come I didn’t see Luna’s earlier?”

  “You wouldn’t have,” she told me, stretching her arm behind her and pointing to the back of her shoulder. “It’s right here, and most of the guys in the family get it on their backs.”

  “Why’d you get yours in such a visible spot?” I asked her thoughtfully. I couldn’t help but look at my own arm and wonder what it would look like with something so large and permanent.

  “You don’t think it makes me look like a badass?” Camille asked me jokingly, and after I giggled her expression grew more serious. “It reminds me that no matter what, I have somewhere to belong. To be honest though, I catch teachers glaring at it sometimes. They probably think it’s a bad influence.”