✍Fair warning, this is fresh from the oven and can remain a one-shot as is or can grow into a multichapter. We'll see...
When Camille's heart first skipped a beat, she was nine years old, and it was for Mike.
He was her classmate and nemesis in elementary school.
The boy was good-looking and, for sure, somewhat "exotic."
His brown eyes and darker skin combined with his black hair stood out in a sea of white- to rose-skinned boys. All of them with blond, honey, or even red hair and blue, green, or hazelnut eyes.
But his looks, though cute—especially the way his hair curled at the end, all rebellious and, at the same time, so old-fashioned—played a smaller part in her fascination with him.
No, Cami O'Connell was attracted to the mischievous nature in Mike.
See, the boy had a knack for pulling the most elaborate stunts and funny pranks. And that, dear reader, was what she was drawn to: the compatibility and the challenge of someone who could compete with her. Because, let's face it: before Mike, Cami was the one holding the crown as the school's most notorious troublemaker, to the utter dismay of her mother, who never stopped trying to tame her wild spirit.
So, when Mike was transferred to St. Augustine's Elementary School of New Canaan, the pranks escalated. Cami put two and two together and decided the new boy was worth getting to know better.
And though she was never going to be called "shy," she knew better than to initiate the acquaintance herself.
No, for that, Cami had the perfect "tool": the school's golden boy—the pride and joy of her parents, her absolute other half, her twin brother, Sean.
The best part was that Sean didn't need convincing to get to know the new kid.
It was his nature to be friendly and welcoming to everyone.
Yes, Sean played his role, and if he suspected that Cami had ulterior motives for mentioning Mike—which she was sure he did—he never said a word.
And so it all began. Sean and Mike became best friends.
Cami and Mike never actually became besties, but the three of them formed something of a dynamic trio.
Still, let’s face it: Cami was always the third wheel in their friendship.
She and Mike, on the other hand, had an unspoken thing of their own. It had nothing to do with friendship or acceptance and everything to do with challenge and excitement.
The two of them engaged in a devastatingly juvenile but utterly satisfying game of who would outsmart the other—who would manage to steal the spotlight.
He would sneak onto the school computers during media hour and install a ridiculous Google Chrome extension on student account profiles. Replacing all images on the web page with silly dancing cats.
She, in turn, would replace all the equipment for P.E. class. So instead of dodgeballs or basketballs, the students discovered a bin filled entirely with bright pink plastic flamingo lawn ornaments, squeaking rubber ducks, and giant inflatable beach balls.
Yes, the principal’s office was a place the two of them often met, sitting opposite each other patiently, waiting for their names to be called.
This competition lasted until the end of elementary school.
Which led to the unavoidable change: he was growing up, and so was she.
And those juvenile games were going to end one way or another.
But neither of them anticipated the change arriving in such a severe way.
Mike was moving away. His father, a human‑rights lawyer, was being transferred to another continent.
It was the night before the move that Mike came to her home for a goodbye sleepover with Sean.
It wasn’t that the boy wasn’t around all the time. And it wasn’t that they hadn’t exchanged words
in the two years he’d lived in New Canaan—they had. One might even say they were friends of sorts.
But Sean was always there—a presence between them, a link connecting the two “antagonists” who roamed the halls of St. Augustine’s.
The night before Mike was set to leave New Canaan was supposed to be a quiet farewell and, at the same time, a repetition of the rituals the boys shared.
Video games. Swimming in the pool. Ordering pizza. Movies.
There was something sweet and awkward about watching them both try to act normal while both thinking about goodbye.
And, as is usually the case when you want time to slow down, it didn’t. The sun rose faster than anyone wanted, and Mike’s father pulled into the driveway to pick him up.
Sean sped to his room, remembering an additional goodbye gift for his best friend—leaving Cami and Mike alone together.
There was something beyond the heavy, depressing atmosphere of goodbye.
It was the end of an era, and they both knew it.
"So," Mike said, leaning against the doorframe of the O'Connell living room. His curls were as rebellious as ever, though he was taller now, the sharp angles of his face starting to replace the soft cheeks of the boy who had arrived at St. Augustine's. "No pink flamingos for my send-off?"
"I thought about filling your dad's moving truck with living rats," Cami shot back, her arms crossed tightly over her chest to hide the unfamiliar ache in her heart. "But I figured your mom has suffered enough trying to organize the move."
Mike laughed, that familiar, mischievous flash sparking in his brown eyes.
He took two steps toward her, closing the distance until they were standing toe-to-toe—just like they used to in the principal’s hallway. Only this time, there was no principal waiting to scold them.
"Admission of defeat, O'Connell?" he teased, though his voice was softer than usual. "Leaving the crown to me?"
"In your dreams, Mike. You're fleeing the state knowing you never bested me."
"I suppose I am," he whispered.
And before she could respond, Mike did something completely unscripted.
He reached out, his fingers catching a strand of her hair, then leaned in.
It wasn't a prank, and it wasn't a challenge. It was a brief, clumsy, but utterly electric kiss right there in the middle of her living room.
It tasted like the sweet soda they had been drinking and felt like the sudden, terrifying drop at the top of a roller coaster. For a second, the universe stopped spinning, and Cami went completely still.
When he pulled back, his darker skin carried a distinct flush, and for the first time since she had known him, Mike looked genuinely flustered.
"Just so you don't forget the competition," he muttered, trying to regain his cool just as Sean’s footsteps echoed in the hallway.
By the next morning, he was gone, leaving Cami with a pounding heart, a crown she didn't care about anymore, and a memory that would make her smile.
When she moved on to middle school, Cami hadn’t completely shed her wild self. But there was something about realizing the boy had liked her back—and that she’d lost two precious years playing games—that changed her.
The new Cami O’Connell wasn’t entirely different from the old. Still rebelliously smart, still witty. But this time, she channeled her brilliance into her studies and into herself.
Who was Cami O’Connell outside the very small circle of people she was expected to socialize with?
She was not Anne-Suzette, that was for sure. Cami didn’t have an inch of the spoiled brat in her, but she also wasn’t a social butterfly.
She was easy to talk to, shared her brother's empathy, and had a sense of humor that could make anyone laugh.
She was expected to behave as a proper young lady, to begin cultivating herself for the day she would debut in the small circle of elite society. But Cami’s heart was far away from ballroom dancing lessons.
She was a curious scholar—her nose always in a book—or she spent time in her mother’s charitable institutions observing those around her. She quietly analyzed their behaviors and interactions, searching for who they were and for the potential left unattended simply because of luck—because they had been born into less privileged environments.
Outside of this new direction, she was still the same tomboy—playing soccer (for crying out loud!) or taking karate lessons.
Anne-Suzette attributed her daughter’s wild tendencies to her husband’s Irish genes.
She herself was of French aristocratic descent, coming from a long line of well‑bred, elegant, sophisticated women.
Her husband, however, insisted she had no reason to worry.
At barely fifteen, Camille was still a child.
And she was behaving as such. In his opinion, her close relationship with her twin brother influenced her interests, but the same was true for Sean.
While Camille played soccer and baseball, Sean took dance lessons and participated in the school’s theater team—just like his sister.
The twins never followed typical stereotypes of boys and girls. They treated each other as equals.
And precisely because the love and friendship between them were so intense, their friends accepted early on that Cami and Sean were a two-in-one deal.
That changed a bit during adolescence.
Both Cami and Sean began to develop interests in the opposite gender outside their close relationship.
Suddenly, girls were girls and boys were boys.
And though Sean treated his newfound interest in girls with the same maturity he treated almost all aspects of his life, Cami was the exact opposite.
Sean was drawn to girls closer to his age, with more or less similar interests and similar backgrounds.
Cami, on the other hand, found herself intrigued by older boys—ones she often met at the De Tocqueville Foundation for the Welfare of Unprotected Youth.
This drove her mother absolutely insane, especially because she had no way to remove the “questionable” young boy or boys from Cami’s orbit without causing a scandal. As president of the foundation, Anne‑Suzette championed providing opportunities to those kids; she could hardly ban her own daughter from interacting with them.
And as the O’Connell twins grew older and entered high school, not much changed in that department.
Sean was the president of the student board, a top student and top athlete. His good looks and natural charisma made him popular among his peers — a catch for girls constantly vying for his attention. But instead of what was expected of a typical teenager, Sean was unaffected by the attention, happily dating Keith for over a year. Keith wasn’t the most popular girl in school, but she was one of the prettiest and certainly one of the most genuine and kindhearted.
Cami was also a top student, though not as involved in athletics as Sean, nor able to maintain a steady relationship for more than three months. But she excelled in other areas. She took photography and art lessons—not because she had any distinctive talent, but because she appreciated the creativity and skill of others.
She volunteered at the elderly care center. She advocated for social justice and equality. And most of all, she was the teachers’ favorite student. She almost appreciated the irony of being every teacher’s nightmare in elementary school and now being the favorite.
Her newest crush was a senior named Alex, who was in her science class and also captain of the school’s football team. He was nice — as nice as an older boy raised in privilege could be — and, unlike her previous boyfriends, Alex was someone her mother actually approved of.
Alex was fun to be around. He had a bit of spontaneity, which she appreciated, and he was always up for trying new things—like driving two hours just to visit an underground club or ditching his loyal legion of friends and admirers to have an X‑Files movie marathon with her.
Sure, he was good-looking and had abs for days. And sex wasn't bad either. He was always adventurous in bed and did aim to entertain his partner as well.
But other than that, he was similar to Kean, to David, and to all those other boys Cami had dated in the past.
None of them ever made her heart skip a bit. Like Mike had done. None of them ever took her breath away with just one kiss. And a strange thing: she could read almost all of them.
In so many ways Cami was older than her actual age, and she craved a deeper connection that went beyond just physical attraction. She longed for someone who could truly understand and appreciate her complexities, someone who could make her feel alive in ways she never thought possible.
"Girlish dreams. She often told herself, prescribing it as a form of self-therapy, to avoid romantic books and movies.
Love, she had realized early on, was a matter of choices and risks.
Just for context, I tend to stay loyal to my OCs; therefore, Anne-Suzette and Conor are still with us as Cami's parents throughout my Klamille fics (see Changing the Narrative and Your Hand in Mine)
