The Break In
Camille's face dropped as she stepped gingerly onto the landing.
"Hey, I'm just gonna have a few friends over on Saturday, that okay?"
Of course Camille had said yes. Why would she have said no? Camille liked meeting new people, liked a busy house. In fact, she couldn't stand a quiet house. Three flatmates was far too few, but that was only for the time being till everyone else caught up with them.
"Hey, it might be more like 15 people on Saturday now. It might get a bit rowdy!"
Rowdy? Camille was used to rowdy. Camille was rowdy, once upon a time. Just last week in fact, but she preferred to forget about that... Noise and drinking, that didn't matter.
"Don't worry, I'll clean up any mess!"
Camille had gone to bed early. Or at least, she'd tried to. Until she had to kick people out of the rooms upstairs to get the peace and quiet she needed.
Now, here she was, surveying the damage.
There was something about Scarfies. They were proud. Proud of their Scarfiedom. And Scarfie meant something different for everyone. For Camille, it meant she could be proud of her education, and still know how to have a good time. (Too good a time, she had once thought). For others, it meant burning couches and destroying property.
But Camille and all her friends were past that now. Post-grads, they didn't do this sort of shit.
But Sophie wasn't a post-grad.
Sophie was an undergrad who'd failed at her first two degrees, and who had nowhere else to live but with Camille and her flatmates for someone with an awful lot of friends.
Sophie was the couch-burning Scarfie.
The scene was almost laughable. Pizza smeared into half of the visible carpet area is pretty ridiculous really. Not something you'd expect anyone with half a brain to do. Water poured through Camille's food in the cupboards. Doors wide open. Lightbulbs missing. Pretty fucking hilarious. Pretty damn Scarfie.
"Hey, are you oka-" Sophie tried to call out to Camille from the hallway as people were leaving to town, but Camille slammed the door before she could finish.
Camille returned to bed and tried to forget about everything downstairs whilst she was safely within the confines of her immaculate room.
"I'm so sorry," Sophie would begin the next morning. But Camille knew 'sorry' would give way to boasting when Sophie told her friends about the out of control party that cost her flatmates the bond in her new flat.
Camille didn't really know Sophie. She had never met any of Sophie's friends. She'd spent most of the evening upstairs after some little bitch had strolled into the kitchen and looked Camille up and down and asked, "Who is that?"
It felt like Camille had gone to bed, and vandals had broken in during the night. Damaging everything in sight for no real reason. Unprovoked. Without either Camille knowing them, nor they knowing her.
Maybe if Camille never spoke to Sophie again she'd move out.
Or maybe she'd just burn more couches.
"Hey, I'm just gonna have a few friends over on Saturday, that okay?"
Of course Camille had said yes. Why would she have said no? Camille liked meeting new people, liked a busy house. In fact, she couldn't stand a quiet house. Three flatmates was far too few, but that was only for the time being till everyone else caught up with them.
"Hey, it might be more like 15 people on Saturday now. It might get a bit rowdy!"
Rowdy? Camille was used to rowdy. Camille was rowdy, once upon a time. Just last week in fact, but she preferred to forget about that... Noise and drinking, that didn't matter.
"Don't worry, I'll clean up any mess!"
Camille had gone to bed early. Or at least, she'd tried to. Until she had to kick people out of the rooms upstairs to get the peace and quiet she needed.
Now, here she was, surveying the damage.
There was something about Scarfies. They were proud. Proud of their Scarfiedom. And Scarfie meant something different for everyone. For Camille, it meant she could be proud of her education, and still know how to have a good time. (Too good a time, she had once thought). For others, it meant burning couches and destroying property.
But Camille and all her friends were past that now. Post-grads, they didn't do this sort of shit.
But Sophie wasn't a post-grad.
Sophie was an undergrad who'd failed at her first two degrees, and who had nowhere else to live but with Camille and her flatmates for someone with an awful lot of friends.
Sophie was the couch-burning Scarfie.
The scene was almost laughable. Pizza smeared into half of the visible carpet area is pretty ridiculous really. Not something you'd expect anyone with half a brain to do. Water poured through Camille's food in the cupboards. Doors wide open. Lightbulbs missing. Pretty fucking hilarious. Pretty damn Scarfie.
"Hey, are you oka-" Sophie tried to call out to Camille from the hallway as people were leaving to town, but Camille slammed the door before she could finish.
Camille returned to bed and tried to forget about everything downstairs whilst she was safely within the confines of her immaculate room.
"I'm so sorry," Sophie would begin the next morning. But Camille knew 'sorry' would give way to boasting when Sophie told her friends about the out of control party that cost her flatmates the bond in her new flat.
Camille didn't really know Sophie. She had never met any of Sophie's friends. She'd spent most of the evening upstairs after some little bitch had strolled into the kitchen and looked Camille up and down and asked, "Who is that?"
It felt like Camille had gone to bed, and vandals had broken in during the night. Damaging everything in sight for no real reason. Unprovoked. Without either Camille knowing them, nor they knowing her.
Maybe if Camille never spoke to Sophie again she'd move out.
Or maybe she'd just burn more couches.
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