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Description
"Two True Loves"
By: Jade Lightning, a.k.a. Inuyashas-hanyougirl
Chapter 3: Too Long for her to Wait, Long Enough for him to Remember.

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    Finally, Valentine’s Day had arrived.  Camille and Bill had gotten together a few times throughout the last two weeks. They had gone to a movie that Camille had wanted to see and Bill recommended.  They had even gone to the beach for the day that past Saturday.  They were having fun just being with each other.  The two learned new things about each other that they had never known before.  They learned that they had a lot more in common than they ever originally suspected.

      Camille woke up on Valentine’s Day morning, anxious to get to school.  She was still tired from last night.  She and Bill had discovered that they both had a love for a particular video game, and the two had been on the phone all night discussing it.  She began to get ready for school as she did every morning.  As she brushed her hair, she looked at a shell that she had found while at the beach with Bill.  It was a brilliantly colored olive shell.  It was perfectly smooth and shiny.  It reminded her of that day like she had just woken up from dreaming about it.

      Later that morning, Camille and Katrina both got to school.  The halls were buzzing with people talking about the dance.  Camille and Katrina were standing at their lockers.  Camille was getting something out of hers while talking to Katrina.

      Katrina, who was still waiting on Peter, looked around at all of the couples.  You could already tell who was going to be with whom that night at the dance.  She shook her head and looked at Camille briefly, before opening her locker and looking in a mirror she kept in it.  Looking at her reflection with a distraught look on her face, she hastily ran a brush through her hair and checked her make-up, as if less than half an hour had ruined it.  After re-applying a layer of strawberry lip gloss, Katrina looked over Camille’s shoulder and then back at her.

     “I’m so anxious Camille.  I’m just hoping that by some chance, Peter and I will end up going to the dance together.  It’d be my dream come true, at least for tenth grade.  Next year, I begin to dream about the junior prom.  Whether he asks me or not, I intend to go and enjoy myself,” Katrina said.

     As she was closing her locker, somebody came up behind her putting their hand on her shoulder.  She turned around and it was Peter standing behind her, smiling shyly.  Her smile was equally as shy.  He looked at her and said, “Who were you planning on asking you to the dance?  Whoever he is, I hope I beat him to you.”  Peter’s smile quickly turned to a grin as he handed her a pink carnation.  He continued saying, “Happy Valentine’s Day Katrina.  As if you didn’t know already, that carnation is just a way of me asking you if you’d go to the dance with me.  Do you want to?”

     Katrina sniffed the flower and then looked back at Camille, who smiled at her, giving an obvious look of approval.  Katrina looked back at Peter and said, “Sure I will…,” she started.  Then, returning Peter’s grin, she smiled and said, “And don’t worry about whoever else was going to ask me.  It’s his loss, and your gain!”

      Peter and Katrina laughed.  He then took Katrina’s books and carried them to class with her at his side.  Camille suddenly felt alone.  She looked at everyone walking down the hallway and noticed Joey scrambling to catch up with Peter.  Camille knew that wherever Joey and Peter were, Bill was sure to be close by.  She sighed and turned back to her locker.  Almost immediately, she saw Bill out of the corner of her eye, standing at his locker.  He looked at her and didn’t say anything right away, just smiling sweetly, and for Camille, that was enough.

       Bill’s gentle eyes looked into hers intently, as if he were trying to see into the depths of her heart, or possibly trying to read her mind.  After a few seconds of silence, he put his hands on her face again, enjoying the touch of her soft skin.  He kissed her gently on her forehead and sniffed her hair, relaxing to the scent of her Waterfall Garden shampoo.  He pulled away from her and said just a few words, “Wait till lunch.  It’ll be ready by then.”  Camille acted like she understood, and she did really.  He was obviously making a reference to her Valentine’s Day gift, and that he’d officially ask her to the dance around that time too.

       She smiled at him and nodded, letting him know that she understood.  He took her hand as he did everyday and they began the walk to class.  Right in front of the door to their classroom, Bill stopped and handed something to her.  It was a long-stem red rose.  He went back to his normal self saying, “How could I forget to give this to you, Happy Valentine’s Day Camille!”  He looked into the classroom out of the corner of his eye and then lowered his voice.  He bent down closer to Camille’s ear and whispered, “And just incase anyone asks, you are my date to the dance.  I just feel like asking you in my own special way…like I said, after lunch.”

       He kissed Camille on her cheek in full view of everybody.  There was obviously love between them.  Mimicking Peter’s actions, Bill took Camille’s books, carrying them to her desk, and held her hand with his free one along the way.  The two got settled in their seats exchanging glances every now and then.  It wasn’t long until Peter and Joey began talking to Bill.  They acted secretive, as did Bill.  Obviously it had to do with her valentine, but then maybe the reason they were acting secretive was because she wasn’t supposed to know about it.  Bill was obviously too impatient to keep it a secret, so he went ahead and told her.  He still wanted to keep Peter and Joey thinking that she didn’t know, so for the rest of that morning, Bill and Peter avoided eye contact with Katrina and Camille, and anyone else for that matter, with the exception of Joey.

      Suddenly, the hours from the start of the school day till lunch grew excessively long and took forever to pass.  Camille finished her work quickly.  There had not been much assigned that day in lieu of the holiday.  As Camille passed the remaining time she left by working a poem that she was going to submit to a poetry contest.  The entries were supposed to be turned in before school was over that day.  They were then going to be judged that afternoon and the contest winners would be announced at the dance that night.  She had wanted to get around to it earlier, but with all of the time she had been spending with Bill; it hadn’t weighed heavily on her thoughts.

      Bill, who was rather smart himself, had also finished his work quickly.  He looked over at Camille’s desk and saw her attempting to write her poem.  Mrs. Richmond was busy putting grades into her grade book, while grading papers at the same time.  Bill quickly wrote a note to Camille and passed it to her with no one catching him.

     Camille opened the note and read it.  It read, “Do you mean to tell me that you’re just now starting that poem?  That’s just ridiculous.  Lucky for you, your writing skills are impeccable.  I’m sure whatever you write will impress the judges.  How far have you gotten with it?”  Camille looked at Bill.  He had been listening to Peter whisper something to him, but quickly looked back.  He grinned at Camille then motioned to her to write him back.  Camille smiled and quickly wrote a reply in her favorite blue gel pen and quickly passing it back to Bill.

      Bill looked at what she wrote and sighed quietly.  She always made a point to write anything she wrote to him in blue, knowing very well that it was his favorite color as well as hers.  Bill read what she had written, “Yeah Bill, I’m just now starting it.  Ridiculous as it may sound, I just remembered it today.  You remember, it’s supposed to be a romantic poem in celebration of Valentine’s Day, so that makes it a little easier I guess.  I have a good one that I’ve already written, but it would make better sense if a guy wrote it.  I wrote it a few months ago from a guy’s point of view and I don’t know why.  I’m trying to come up with another idea.  Thanks for the compliment.  My writing skills have gotten better over the years.  You know what they say, ‘Practice makes perfect.’  But hey, you’d know that better than anyone wouldn’t you?  I hope the judges like it.  I’m sure you will.  I haven’t gotten too far but I’ll keep working.  Thanks for backing me up.   I’ll see you at lunch!”

      He smiled; he loved her handwriting.  She had the neatest cursive and made a point to dot her “i’s” with a heart.  She had always kept her writing neat and legible, and it reminded him of a time from their youth, where their third grade teacher complained of the dirty hand-writing of their class.

      It was third grade, right before Christmas break.  Their teacher, Ms. Brown, was complaining of her class’ messy, overall unreadable handwriting.  The year that most students wrote in cursive handwriting already or were learning it, almost her entire class still wrote in print, and messy print for that matter.  She decided to do something about it.  She hated to punish the class over the Christmas holiday, but something had to be done.

      The last day of school was great.  It was a half-day and the kids were having fun.  The boys and girls still kept to themselves, but no one argued that day.  They were nice to each other for once.  Bill recalled it being the first time that Camille wasn’t critical of his hair.  Right before class was let out, Ms. Brown told everyone to listen.

     “Class, I hope you enjoy your holiday like I want you to.  I want to enjoy my holiday too, but for some reason I find that I can’t.  Since school started, I’ve been noticing something about your work.  All of you are quite intelligent.  The one thing that bothers me is your handwriting.  I don’t understand how such smart and capable group of students, could have such messy handwriting.  Third grade is supposed to be the year where children begin to learn cursive, or at least improve their print, of which, you have done neither.  Next year, you will have a writing test, and while it is based mostly on writing skills, your grade is lowered drastically if your work is unreadable.  I have to do something about this.  As your teacher, I have a responsibility to help you improve in areas where you are weak, and your handwriting is the weakest,” she said.

     “Ha,” Bill thought, “I remember that.  All of us were like, ‘What does she mean?’  Yeah, none of us could prepare for our punishment, or the shock of what would happen next.”

     Bill then remembered Ms. Brown standing up and looking critically at them.  She said, “So you leave me with no choice.  I’m assigning you all to improve your handwriting over the break.  For the next semester, no print will be allowed, and your cursive must be legible, or there will be further punishment.  I want you to realize why I am doing this.”  Bill then remembered her taking some of the class’ work and then saying, “So I want the one student I am exempting from this assignment to come up here to see if she can read your work.  She is the only one who has handwriting that I can read, and the only one to write in cursive.”

     Bill laughed to himself.  He looked at Camille, who was still working on that poem for the contest.  It looked like she had made some progress, as had the school day.  Lunch was only thirty minutes away.  Bill returned to his thoughts.  He remembered thinking, “Man, it’s a girl?  Oh, I hope the teacher doesn’t punish us too badly.  I mean, it’s bad enough that someone is going to be exempt from it, but the fact that it’s a girl makes it even worse.”

   He thought, “Ha!  Little did I know how much of a fool I was going to be, that’s for sure.”  He remembered Ms. Brown saying, “That student is Camille Willshire.  She’s only impressed me from the day she got here.  Come up here Camille if you would please.”

     Bill and the boys all glared at Camille.  She was the opposing general in their ongoing wars during recess.  They looked and saw that even the girls didn’t appear to be too happy.  Camille had long hair then, long enough to sit on.  She had beautiful tan skin because of her Native American blood.  She was a good student really and all of the girls respected her.  It was finally in high school, that the boys gave her that same respect, but that day in third grade, she wasn’t on anyone’s good side.

     Camille went up to Ms. Brown’s desk and smiled.  Ms. Brown then said, “Now Camille, without giving me any names, just look through these papers and tell me if you can read what they say or not.”

     “Sure Ms. Brown.  I’ll do it,” Camille said.  After a few minutes, Camille replied, “Well, some of them are my friends,” she said looking at the girls, “and some of them are not,” she said glaring at the boys, “but I have to be honest.  None of them are very good.  For some of them, I don’t think it would take much for them to improve.  Be easy on them Ms. Brown, it is the Christmas break after all.” Camille smiled sweetly at Ms. Brown.

     Bill remembered looking at his friends.  Bill thought, “How disgusting.  Not only did she refer to us as people she doesn’t like, but now she’s using her charm to get the teacher to be easy on us!  I can’t stand it, how much worse could it get?”  He then remembered seeing Peter and Joey looking at him, obviously thinking the same thing.

     Bill again awoke from his thoughts.  Ten more minutes had gone by leaving twenty minutes until lunch.  He looked at Camille who was hard at work on her entry for the poetry contest.  Bill smiled at her, even though she wasn’t looking at him at the moment.  He chuckled quietly to himself, remembering what happened next on that half-day in third grade.

     He remembered looking at the girls.  They all looked happier.  Camille had mentioned them being her friends, and saw the glare she gave the boys when she mentioned her enemies.  They then turned their attention to Ms. Brown and Camille.  Ms. Brown looked at Camille and said, “Well, if I were to go easy on them, what kind of punishment do you think I should give it to them?  It has to be geared to them improving their handwriting, so it would have to involve them doing something to improve it, so it’ll be better when they come back from vacation.”

     Bill was thinking that maybe even the boys would get off easy.  Obviously, Camille would be easy on her friends, thus giving the boys an easier punishment.  Bill then realized how wrong that assumption was.  Camille was too clever.  She knew what to do.

    “Well Ms. Brown, I do agree that their handwriting needs to improve.  What I suggest is that they redo some of the assignments from the past semester to improve their handwriting.  That way, the thinking part of the work is finished, and they can put their focus on improving their handwriting.  They’d just have to copy what their answers were and make them neater, until you are satisfied.  That sounds easy enough to me, don’t you think so?  I’d say one or two assignments would be enough, and they should practice their cursive alphabet until it is legible.  What do you think?” Camille asked.

    Bill remembered what happened next like it was yesterday.  He grew angry.  It was the teacher who was supposed to give the class assignments, not Camille.  He stood up and said, “Ms. Brown!  Since when did Camille give out assignments?  It’d be easier to practice the cursive alphabet then to redo work I’ve already gotten a one-hundred on!  If it was graded, then obviously, somebody was able to read it!  I don’t have time to waste over my holiday.  Besides, nobody…especially a girl, can tell me and my friends what to do!  Even if you assign it, it still came from her, so I refuse to comply.  I’ll improve my handwriting, but not how she tells me to!”

    The boys looked at their leader with agreement, while the girls looked at him in anger.  Camille appeared unhurt, that is until Ms. Brown asked, “Why do you feel so strongly about that, William?”

    Bill grew even angrier.  Camille gave him a smirk and a taunting look.  She stroked her hair, mocking the length that his was, right at his shoulders.  The other girls copied her.  Bill was so mad that he lost control and screamed, “Because she is stupid!!  She is so stupid…I hate her!  I hate them all!!  Girls are so stupid!!  If brains were gasoline, Camille and those girls wouldn’t have enough fuel to power a flea’s motorcycle around the outside of a dime!!”

    The girls stopped laughing and some started crying.  While the boys grew happy, some of them laughed, some of them mocked the girls, and most of them cheered.  Ms. Brown looked upset, but Camille walked up to Bill and looked him in the eyes. She said, “Well then William, what do you call someone who has long hair?  I call them a girl!  Look in the mirror and weep!”  Bill was angry.  He began to get embarrassed.  Camille then said, “That hair makes you look stupid.  It makes you look like a girl!”  The girls then started laughing, while Ms. Brown grew more upset.

     Bill then looked at Camille and said, “Well, you must think I’m cute then, don’t you?”

     All of the laughter stopped.  Ms. Brown was intrigued.  She listened to Bill.  Camille looked confused, she said, “No way!  I don’t like you, you stupid boy.  No boys are cute and your hair just makes you look worst.  What in the world ever gave you that stupid idea!?”  The girls started to laugh again.

    The boys were confused.  What was Bill trying to do?  Bill grinned and looked at Camille.  He said, “Well if I’m ugly, and I look like a girl, then all you’re doing is calling yourself and your friends ugly in a nice way.  If I’m ugly, and I look like a girl, which you and your friends are, then all of you are ugly too.  Which is it?”

    Camille gasped and looked at Bill.  All of her friends looked upset.  Camille grew red from embarrassment.  She said, “Well…I…I…oh you’re right!  I guess I can’t call you a girl and say that you’re ugly at the same time…”  She paused, and then looked at Bill with a smirk on her face.  She continued, “I’m sorry Bill, I shouldn’t have said that you are ugly and look like a girl.”  She put a sad look on her face, like she was about to cry, and looked back at her friends.

    Bill returned to his classroom and looked at the clock, ten more minutes until lunch, and Camille’s poem looked like it was getting better.  He loved her, but remembered how much of a jackass she made him look like that day in third grade.

    He remembered what happened next.  The boys were excited, he had her beat.  Bill was happy too, he would add another victory for his side.  Camille then looked back at him and said, “As for what I think of you, I think…,” she paused and then she smirked at him.  She said, “I think that you are a boy and that you are ugly!  Besides, to ever say that you looked like a girl degraded us whether I thought you were cute or not.  You’re as bad as the rest of them underneath!  You’re all stupid because you’re all the same.  You’re all boys!”

    Then the war was postponed.  Bill didn’t remember much of what happened after that.  He remembered putting most of it out of his head.  He did remember getting the very assignment that Camille had suggested.  The thing was he remembered her helping him with it.  He looked and finally, it was time for lunch.  Camille looked up from her poem and looked at Bill.  After looking at him, she noticed that he was holding his pen, like he was about to write her back, but like he was still thinking of what to say.

    She giggled and asked him, “Bill?  Have you been sitting there for half an hour just trying to think of what to write back to me?  You might as well tell me now; it’s time for lunch finally.”

    Bill looked at Camille and then at the note.  He had left it blank and had spent the whole half hour thinking about third grade.  He realized because it was one of the first times since their daily battles on the playground had begun in second grade, that they were nice to each other.  She helped him with his handwriting and he remembered enjoying himself when they were together.

    He smiled at Camille and said, “Yeah, I couldn’t think of what to say.  Actually, looking at your handwriting made me remember that incident in third grade.  Do you remember?”

    The bell rang and both Camille and Bill stood up.  Camille laughed and said, “Yeah, I finally told you that it was important to have neat handwriting to not only make the process of grading your work easier, but you also make your teacher look better and make it easier and more enjoyable to go to work everyday.  Actually Bill, don’t you look at your handwriting and ask yourself what some of those words actually say?  Imagine how hard it must have been for your teacher.  It was right after third grade that a new battle began between us, who would be class valedictorian each year.  We had the highest grades in the class without fail.”

    Bill smiled and took her hand.  They began their walk to the lunch room.  On the way, Bill said, “What was I thinking?  I look at my handwriting from then and wonder why Ms. Brown put up with it for so long.  She should’ve been paid extra for reading that crap, but why would she help us improve I thought.  She’d lose that extra pay.  Now that I’m older, it’s because I realize that she was a responsible adult.  I appreciate her helping us.  It was the best thing that I could’ve done for myself.  I would’ve done the same thing that she did…or that is, what you did.  Now that I think about it, you were responsible too by giving us that assignment.  It was one of the nicest things you ever did for me, and all of us for that matter.”

    The two looked at each other and smiled.  Camille then remembered what she had been looking forward to since she woke up that morning.  Bill had said that at lunch time, her valentine would be ready and he’d formerly ask her to the dance.  She was excited then and only got happier.  They approached the lunch room as the hallways grew empty and Camille’s anticipation grew.   It had been entirely too long for her to wait, finally it was time.

    Bill knew that she had to be excited, and he was too.  He didn’t know what she was thinking, but those thirty minutes that she thought were too long to spend on an answer to her note, were long enough for him to remember the first time that he liked her, even if on the outside, he didn’t show that love.  He then thought up an answer to Camille’s note.  He looked at her and said, “Hey Camille, it’s not that I spent thirty minutes trying to figure out what to write back.  It’s just I didn’t know how to word it.”

    Camille looked at him as if she were stunned.  “You Bill?  You didn’t know how to word your thoughts?  I can’t imagine that, you’ve always been good at expressing yourself.  I don’t believe you.  What were you really doing?”

    Bill rolled his eyes as they walked, getting a giggled out of Camille.  He said, “It’s like I said.  I remembered that incident in third grade.  As for always expressing myself, what I wanted to say was that…that I really hope that you can forgive me for all those stupid fights we had and all the bad things I said to you.  I never meant them.”

    Camille looked at Bill and the two smiled at each other.  Camille said, “Of course I forgive you.  You’ve forgiven me right?”

    Bill laughed and said, “Sure I have!  Now, why don’t we get to lunch?  I’m looking forward to it today.  Come on!”

    Before Camille knew it, Bill had picked up his pace and they were speeding to the lunch room.  Camille laughed.  She knew why Bill was so eager to get to lunch, and it wasn’t the food or his stomach being empty.  He was looking forward to what he had yet to do.  Give her a real valentine, and ask her to the dance.  Camille was happy and held Bill back.

    He looked at her and said, “Come on!  Let’s get going!”  He pulled on her but she walked to him and hugged him tightly.  Bill was surprised, but put his arms around her and hugged her tightly in return.

    Camille looked at him and said, “Thank you Bill, for being such a great friend.  I just had to say that to you.  Thanks for being a great friend.”

    Bill smiled at her.  He ran his fingers through her hair and hugged her again.  They then took each other’s hand and continued their walk to the lunch room.  Behind them, Jeff Mitchell watched enviously.  On closer inspection, he saw the long-stem red rose that Bill had given her that morning.  She was carrying it in the same hand that Bill held in his own, further disgusting and angering Jeff.  He knew that once Bill was sure enough of himself, that he would kiss Camille; they would end up going steady, and then date for a long time.  If that wasn’t bad enough, chances were that they could make it as far as their senior prom, and if they were lucky, even marriage.  They were sixteen, almost seventeen, and Jeff would almost certainly lose to Bill in the end.

    Jeff was infuriated.  Bill had gotten the best of him for too long, but at the same time, he was an impossible target.  While Jeff was built to play football, he was shorter than Bill and lacked in muscle build.  Bill had powerful arms and was obviously strong.  He was tall and strong, making him not easy to defeat.  Jeff admitted to himself that challenging Bill was out of the question.  There had to be a way to beat him…but how?  Suddenly, Jeff knew how to do it.  He would crush the one thing that Bill loved most and held closest to his heart.  Jeff would crush Camille…it was just how to do it, to cause the most damage.  Jeff began to plan how he would attack her, and ultimately end Bill and Camille’s future together, whether he got in trouble for it or not.

Description
"Two True Loves"
By: Jade Lightning, a.k.a. Inuyashas-hanyougirl
Chapter 3: Too Long for her to Wait, Long Enough for him to Remember.

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    Finally, Valentine’s Day had arrived.  Camille and Bill had gotten together a few times throughout the last two weeks. They had gone to a movie that Camille had wanted to see and Bill recommended.  They had even gone to the beach for the day that past Saturday.  They were having fun just being with each other.  The two learned new things about each other that they had never known before.  They learned that they had a lot more in common than they ever originally suspected.

      Camille woke up on Valentine’s Day morning, anxious to get to school.  She was still tired from last night.  She and Bill had discovered that they both had a love for a particular video game, and the two had been on the phone all night discussing it.  She began to get ready for school as she did every morning.  As she brushed her hair, she looked at a shell that she had found while at the beach with Bill.  It was a brilliantly colored olive shell.  It was perfectly smooth and shiny.  It reminded her of that day like she had just woken up from dreaming about it.

      Later that morning, Camille and Katrina both got to school.  The halls were buzzing with people talking about the dance.  Camille and Katrina were standing at their lockers.  Camille was getting something out of hers while talking to Katrina.

      Katrina, who was still waiting on Peter, looked around at all of the couples.  You could already tell who was going to be with whom that night at the dance.  She shook her head and looked at Camille briefly, before opening her locker and looking in a mirror she kept in it.  Looking at her reflection with a distraught look on her face, she hastily ran a brush through her hair and checked her make-up, as if less than half an hour had ruined it.  After re-applying a layer of strawberry lip gloss, Katrina looked over Camille’s shoulder and then back at her.

     “I’m so anxious Camille.  I’m just hoping that by some chance, Peter and I will end up going to the dance together.  It’d be my dream come true, at least for tenth grade.  Next year, I begin to dream about the junior prom.  Whether he asks me or not, I intend to go and enjoy myself,” Katrina said.

     As she was closing her locker, somebody came up behind her putting their hand on her shoulder.  She turned around and it was Peter standing behind her, smiling shyly.  Her smile was equally as shy.  He looked at her and said, “Who were you planning on asking you to the dance?  Whoever he is, I hope I beat him to you.”  Peter’s smile quickly turned to a grin as he handed her a pink carnation.  He continued saying, “Happy Valentine’s Day Katrina.  As if you didn’t know already, that carnation is just a way of me asking you if you’d go to the dance with me.  Do you want to?”

     Katrina sniffed the flower and then looked back at Camille, who smiled at her, giving an obvious look of approval.  Katrina looked back at Peter and said, “Sure I will…,” she started.  Then, returning Peter’s grin, she smiled and said, “And don’t worry about whoever else was going to ask me.  It’s his loss, and your gain!”

      Peter and Katrina laughed.  He then took Katrina’s books and carried them to class with her at his side.  Camille suddenly felt alone.  She looked at everyone walking down the hallway and noticed Joey scrambling to catch up with Peter.  Camille knew that wherever Joey and Peter were, Bill was sure to be close by.  She sighed and turned back to her locker.  Almost immediately, she saw Bill out of the corner of her eye, standing at his locker.  He looked at her and didn’t say anything right away, just smiling sweetly, and for Camille, that was enough.

       Bill’s gentle eyes looked into hers intently, as if he were trying to see into the depths of her heart, or possibly trying to read her mind.  After a few seconds of silence, he put his hands on her face again, enjoying the touch of her soft skin.  He kissed her gently on her forehead and sniffed her hair, relaxing to the scent of her Waterfall Garden shampoo.  He pulled away from her and said just a few words, “Wait till lunch.  It’ll be ready by then.”  Camille acted like she understood, and she did really.  He was obviously making a reference to her Valentine’s Day gift, and that he’d officially ask her to the dance around that time too.

       She smiled at him and nodded, letting him know that she understood.  He took her hand as he did everyday and they began the walk to class.  Right in front of the door to their classroom, Bill stopped and handed something to her.  It was a long-stem red rose.  He went back to his normal self saying, “How could I forget to give this to you, Happy Valentine’s Day Camille!”  He looked into the classroom out of the corner of his eye and then lowered his voice.  He bent down closer to Camille’s ear and whispered, “And just incase anyone asks, you are my date to the dance.  I just feel like asking you in my own special way…like I said, after lunch.”

       He kissed Camille on her cheek in full view of everybody.  There was obviously love between them.  Mimicking Peter’s actions, Bill took Camille’s books, carrying them to her desk, and held her hand with his free one along the way.  The two got settled in their seats exchanging glances every now and then.  It wasn’t long until Peter and Joey began talking to Bill.  They acted secretive, as did Bill.  Obviously it had to do with her valentine, but then maybe the reason they were acting secretive was because she wasn’t supposed to know about it.  Bill was obviously too impatient to keep it a secret, so he went ahead and told her.  He still wanted to keep Peter and Joey thinking that she didn’t know, so for the rest of that morning, Bill and Peter avoided eye contact with Katrina and Camille, and anyone else for that matter, with the exception of Joey.

      Suddenly, the hours from the start of the school day till lunch grew excessively long and took forever to pass.  Camille finished her work quickly.  There had not been much assigned that day in lieu of the holiday.  As Camille passed the remaining time she left by working a poem that she was going to submit to a poetry contest.  The entries were supposed to be turned in before school was over that day.  They were then going to be judged that afternoon and the contest winners would be announced at the dance that night.  She had wanted to get around to it earlier, but with all of the time she had been spending with Bill; it hadn’t weighed heavily on her thoughts.

      Bill, who was rather smart himself, had also finished his work quickly.  He looked over at Camille’s desk and saw her attempting to write her poem.  Mrs. Richmond was busy putting grades into her grade book, while grading papers at the same time.  Bill quickly wrote a note to Camille and passed it to her with no one catching him.

     Camille opened the note and read it.  It read, “Do you mean to tell me that you’re just now starting that poem?  That’s just ridiculous.  Lucky for you, your writing skills are impeccable.  I’m sure whatever you write will impress the judges.  How far have you gotten with it?”  Camille looked at Bill.  He had been listening to Peter whisper something to him, but quickly looked back.  He grinned at Camille then motioned to her to write him back.  Camille smiled and quickly wrote a reply in her favorite blue gel pen and quickly passing it back to Bill.

      Bill looked at what she wrote and sighed quietly.  She always made a point to write anything she wrote to him in blue, knowing very well that it was his favorite color as well as hers.  Bill read what she had written, “Yeah Bill, I’m just now starting it.  Ridiculous as it may sound, I just remembered it today.  You remember, it’s supposed to be a romantic poem in celebration of Valentine’s Day, so that makes it a little easier I guess.  I have a good one that I’ve already written, but it would make better sense if a guy wrote it.  I wrote it a few months ago from a guy’s point of view and I don’t know why.  I’m trying to come up with another idea.  Thanks for the compliment.  My writing skills have gotten better over the years.  You know what they say, ‘Practice makes perfect.’  But hey, you’d know that better than anyone wouldn’t you?  I hope the judges like it.  I’m sure you will.  I haven’t gotten too far but I’ll keep working.  Thanks for backing me up.   I’ll see you at lunch!”

      He smiled; he loved her handwriting.  She had the neatest cursive and made a point to dot her “i’s” with a heart.  She had always kept her writing neat and legible, and it reminded him of a time from their youth, where their third grade teacher complained of the dirty hand-writing of their class.

      It was third grade, right before Christmas break.  Their teacher, Ms. Brown, was complaining of her class’ messy, overall unreadable handwriting.  The year that most students wrote in cursive handwriting already or were learning it, almost her entire class still wrote in print, and messy print for that matter.  She decided to do something about it.  She hated to punish the class over the Christmas holiday, but something had to be done.

      The last day of school was great.  It was a half-day and the kids were having fun.  The boys and girls still kept to themselves, but no one argued that day.  They were nice to each other for once.  Bill recalled it being the first time that Camille wasn’t critical of his hair.  Right before class was let out, Ms. Brown told everyone to listen.

     “Class, I hope you enjoy your holiday like I want you to.  I want to enjoy my holiday too, but for some reason I find that I can’t.  Since school started, I’ve been noticing something about your work.  All of you are quite intelligent.  The one thing that bothers me is your handwriting.  I don’t understand how such smart and capable group of students, could have such messy handwriting.  Third grade is supposed to be the year where children begin to learn cursive, or at least improve their print, of which, you have done neither.  Next year, you will have a writing test, and while it is based mostly on writing skills, your grade is lowered drastically if your work is unreadable.  I have to do something about this.  As your teacher, I have a responsibility to help you improve in areas where you are weak, and your handwriting is the weakest,” she said.

     “Ha,” Bill thought, “I remember that.  All of us were like, ‘What does she mean?’  Yeah, none of us could prepare for our punishment, or the shock of what would happen next.”

     Bill then remembered Ms. Brown standing up and looking critically at them.  She said, “So you leave me with no choice.  I’m assigning you all to improve your handwriting over the break.  For the next semester, no print will be allowed, and your cursive must be legible, or there will be further punishment.  I want you to realize why I am doing this.”  Bill then remembered her taking some of the class’ work and then saying, “So I want the one student I am exempting from this assignment to come up here to see if she can read your work.  She is the only one who has handwriting that I can read, and the only one to write in cursive.”

     Bill laughed to himself.  He looked at Camille, who was still working on that poem for the contest.  It looked like she had made some progress, as had the school day.  Lunch was only thirty minutes away.  Bill returned to his thoughts.  He remembered thinking, “Man, it’s a girl?  Oh, I hope the teacher doesn’t punish us too badly.  I mean, it’s bad enough that someone is going to be exempt from it, but the fact that it’s a girl makes it even worse.”

   He thought, “Ha!  Little did I know how much of a fool I was going to be, that’s for sure.”  He remembered Ms. Brown saying, “That student is Camille Willshire.  She’s only impressed me from the day she got here.  Come up here Camille if you would please.”

     Bill and the boys all glared at Camille.  She was the opposing general in their ongoing wars during recess.  They looked and saw that even the girls didn’t appear to be too happy.  Camille had long hair then, long enough to sit on.  She had beautiful tan skin because of her Native American blood.  She was a good student really and all of the girls respected her.  It was finally in high school, that the boys gave her that same respect, but that day in third grade, she wasn’t on anyone’s good side.

     Camille went up to Ms. Brown’s desk and smiled.  Ms. Brown then said, “Now Camille, without giving me any names, just look through these papers and tell me if you can read what they say or not.”

     “Sure Ms. Brown.  I’ll do it,” Camille said.  After a few minutes, Camille replied, “Well, some of them are my friends,” she said looking at the girls, “and some of them are not,” she said glaring at the boys, “but I have to be honest.  None of them are very good.  For some of them, I don’t think it would take much for them to improve.  Be easy on them Ms. Brown, it is the Christmas break after all.” Camille smiled sweetly at Ms. Brown.

     Bill remembered looking at his friends.  Bill thought, “How disgusting.  Not only did she refer to us as people she doesn’t like, but now she’s using her charm to get the teacher to be easy on us!  I can’t stand it, how much worse could it get?”  He then remembered seeing Peter and Joey looking at him, obviously thinking the same thing.

     Bill again awoke from his thoughts.  Ten more minutes had gone by leaving twenty minutes until lunch.  He looked at Camille who was hard at work on her entry for the poetry contest.  Bill smiled at her, even though she wasn’t looking at him at the moment.  He chuckled quietly to himself, remembering what happened next on that half-day in third grade.

     He remembered looking at the girls.  They all looked happier.  Camille had mentioned them being her friends, and saw the glare she gave the boys when she mentioned her enemies.  They then turned their attention to Ms. Brown and Camille.  Ms. Brown looked at Camille and said, “Well, if I were to go easy on them, what kind of punishment do you think I should give it to them?  It has to be geared to them improving their handwriting, so it would have to involve them doing something to improve it, so it’ll be better when they come back from vacation.”

     Bill was thinking that maybe even the boys would get off easy.  Obviously, Camille would be easy on her friends, thus giving the boys an easier punishment.  Bill then realized how wrong that assumption was.  Camille was too clever.  She knew what to do.

    “Well Ms. Brown, I do agree that their handwriting needs to improve.  What I suggest is that they redo some of the assignments from the past semester to improve their handwriting.  That way, the thinking part of the work is finished, and they can put their focus on improving their handwriting.  They’d just have to copy what their answers were and make them neater, until you are satisfied.  That sounds easy enough to me, don’t you think so?  I’d say one or two assignments would be enough, and they should practice their cursive alphabet until it is legible.  What do you think?” Camille asked.

    Bill remembered what happened next like it was yesterday.  He grew angry.  It was the teacher who was supposed to give the class assignments, not Camille.  He stood up and said, “Ms. Brown!  Since when did Camille give out assignments?  It’d be easier to practice the cursive alphabet then to redo work I’ve already gotten a one-hundred on!  If it was graded, then obviously, somebody was able to read it!  I don’t have time to waste over my holiday.  Besides, nobody…especially a girl, can tell me and my friends what to do!  Even if you assign it, it still came from her, so I refuse to comply.  I’ll improve my handwriting, but not how she tells me to!”

    The boys looked at their leader with agreement, while the girls looked at him in anger.  Camille appeared unhurt, that is until Ms. Brown asked, “Why do you feel so strongly about that, William?”

    Bill grew even angrier.  Camille gave him a smirk and a taunting look.  She stroked her hair, mocking the length that his was, right at his shoulders.  The other girls copied her.  Bill was so mad that he lost control and screamed, “Because she is stupid!!  She is so stupid…I hate her!  I hate them all!!  Girls are so stupid!!  If brains were gasoline, Camille and those girls wouldn’t have enough fuel to power a flea’s motorcycle around the outside of a dime!!”

    The girls stopped laughing and some started crying.  While the boys grew happy, some of them laughed, some of them mocked the girls, and most of them cheered.  Ms. Brown looked upset, but Camille walked up to Bill and looked him in the eyes. She said, “Well then William, what do you call someone who has long hair?  I call them a girl!  Look in the mirror and weep!”  Bill was angry.  He began to get embarrassed.  Camille then said, “That hair makes you look stupid.  It makes you look like a girl!”  The girls then started laughing, while Ms. Brown grew more upset.

     Bill then looked at Camille and said, “Well, you must think I’m cute then, don’t you?”

     All of the laughter stopped.  Ms. Brown was intrigued.  She listened to Bill.  Camille looked confused, she said, “No way!  I don’t like you, you stupid boy.  No boys are cute and your hair just makes you look worst.  What in the world ever gave you that stupid idea!?”  The girls started to laugh again.

    The boys were confused.  What was Bill trying to do?  Bill grinned and looked at Camille.  He said, “Well if I’m ugly, and I look like a girl, then all you’re doing is calling yourself and your friends ugly in a nice way.  If I’m ugly, and I look like a girl, which you and your friends are, then all of you are ugly too.  Which is it?”

    Camille gasped and looked at Bill.  All of her friends looked upset.  Camille grew red from embarrassment.  She said, “Well…I…I…oh you’re right!  I guess I can’t call you a girl and say that you’re ugly at the same time…”  She paused, and then looked at Bill with a smirk on her face.  She continued, “I’m sorry Bill, I shouldn’t have said that you are ugly and look like a girl.”  She put a sad look on her face, like she was about to cry, and looked back at her friends.

    Bill returned to his classroom and looked at the clock, ten more minutes until lunch, and Camille’s poem looked like it was getting better.  He loved her, but remembered how much of a jackass she made him look like that day in third grade.

    He remembered what happened next.  The boys were excited, he had her beat.  Bill was happy too, he would add another victory for his side.  Camille then looked back at him and said, “As for what I think of you, I think…,” she paused and then she smirked at him.  She said, “I think that you are a boy and that you are ugly!  Besides, to ever say that you looked like a girl degraded us whether I thought you were cute or not.  You’re as bad as the rest of them underneath!  You’re all stupid because you’re all the same.  You’re all boys!”

    Then the war was postponed.  Bill didn’t remember much of what happened after that.  He remembered putting most of it out of his head.  He did remember getting the very assignment that Camille had suggested.  The thing was he remembered her helping him with it.  He looked and finally, it was time for lunch.  Camille looked up from her poem and looked at Bill.  After looking at him, she noticed that he was holding his pen, like he was about to write her back, but like he was still thinking of what to say.

    She giggled and asked him, “Bill?  Have you been sitting there for half an hour just trying to think of what to write back to me?  You might as well tell me now; it’s time for lunch finally.”

    Bill looked at Camille and then at the note.  He had left it blank and had spent the whole half hour thinking about third grade.  He realized because it was one of the first times since their daily battles on the playground had begun in second grade, that they were nice to each other.  She helped him with his handwriting and he remembered enjoying himself when they were together.

    He smiled at Camille and said, “Yeah, I couldn’t think of what to say.  Actually, looking at your handwriting made me remember that incident in third grade.  Do you remember?”

    The bell rang and both Camille and Bill stood up.  Camille laughed and said, “Yeah, I finally told you that it was important to have neat handwriting to not only make the process of grading your work easier, but you also make your teacher look better and make it easier and more enjoyable to go to work everyday.  Actually Bill, don’t you look at your handwriting and ask yourself what some of those words actually say?  Imagine how hard it must have been for your teacher.  It was right after third grade that a new battle began between us, who would be class valedictorian each year.  We had the highest grades in the class without fail.”

    Bill smiled and took her hand.  They began their walk to the lunch room.  On the way, Bill said, “What was I thinking?  I look at my handwriting from then and wonder why Ms. Brown put up with it for so long.  She should’ve been paid extra for reading that crap, but why would she help us improve I thought.  She’d lose that extra pay.  Now that I’m older, it’s because I realize that she was a responsible adult.  I appreciate her helping us.  It was the best thing that I could’ve done for myself.  I would’ve done the same thing that she did…or that is, what you did.  Now that I think about it, you were responsible too by giving us that assignment.  It was one of the nicest things you ever did for me, and all of us for that matter.”

    The two looked at each other and smiled.  Camille then remembered what she had been looking forward to since she woke up that morning.  Bill had said that at lunch time, her valentine would be ready and he’d formerly ask her to the dance.  She was excited then and only got happier.  They approached the lunch room as the hallways grew empty and Camille’s anticipation grew.   It had been entirely too long for her to wait, finally it was time.

    Bill knew that she had to be excited, and he was too.  He didn’t know what she was thinking, but those thirty minutes that she thought were too long to spend on an answer to her note, were long enough for him to remember the first time that he liked her, even if on the outside, he didn’t show that love.  He then thought up an answer to Camille’s note.  He looked at her and said, “Hey Camille, it’s not that I spent thirty minutes trying to figure out what to write back.  It’s just I didn’t know how to word it.”

    Camille looked at him as if she were stunned.  “You Bill?  You didn’t know how to word your thoughts?  I can’t imagine that, you’ve always been good at expressing yourself.  I don’t believe you.  What were you really doing?”

    Bill rolled his eyes as they walked, getting a giggled out of Camille.  He said, “It’s like I said.  I remembered that incident in third grade.  As for always expressing myself, what I wanted to say was that…that I really hope that you can forgive me for all those stupid fights we had and all the bad things I said to you.  I never meant them.”

    Camille looked at Bill and the two smiled at each other.  Camille said, “Of course I forgive you.  You’ve forgiven me right?”

    Bill laughed and said, “Sure I have!  Now, why don’t we get to lunch?  I’m looking forward to it today.  Come on!”

    Before Camille knew it, Bill had picked up his pace and they were speeding to the lunch room.  Camille laughed.  She knew why Bill was so eager to get to lunch, and it wasn’t the food or his stomach being empty.  He was looking forward to what he had yet to do.  Give her a real valentine, and ask her to the dance.  Camille was happy and held Bill back.

    He looked at her and said, “Come on!  Let’s get going!”  He pulled on her but she walked to him and hugged him tightly.  Bill was surprised, but put his arms around her and hugged her tightly in return.

    Camille looked at him and said, “Thank you Bill, for being such a great friend.  I just had to say that to you.  Thanks for being a great friend.”

    Bill smiled at her.  He ran his fingers through her hair and hugged her again.  They then took each other’s hand and continued their walk to the lunch room.  Behind them, Jeff Mitchell watched enviously.  On closer inspection, he saw the long-stem red rose that Bill had given her that morning.  She was carrying it in the same hand that Bill held in his own, further disgusting and angering Jeff.  He knew that once Bill was sure enough of himself, that he would kiss Camille; they would end up going steady, and then date for a long time.  If that wasn’t bad enough, chances were that they could make it as far as their senior prom, and if they were lucky, even marriage.  They were sixteen, almost seventeen, and Jeff would almost certainly lose to Bill in the end.

    Jeff was infuriated.  Bill had gotten the best of him for too long, but at the same time, he was an impossible target.  While Jeff was built to play football, he was shorter than Bill and lacked in muscle build.  Bill had powerful arms and was obviously strong.  He was tall and strong, making him not easy to defeat.  Jeff admitted to himself that challenging Bill was out of the question.  There had to be a way to beat him…but how?  Suddenly, Jeff knew how to do it.  He would crush the one thing that Bill loved most and held closest to his heart.  Jeff would crush Camille…it was just how to do it, to cause the most damage.  Jeff began to plan how he would attack her, and ultimately end Bill and Camille’s future together, whether he got in trouble for it or not.