Cammy scratched her shoulder blades, unable to eat her breakfast beyond one bite of toast. Over the days, it had gotten worse and worse, and every time she looked in the mirror, she could see how raw-red her skin was. This morning, she swore she could see the white of her bone!—of course; it was no bone, but she didn't know that.

"Everything all right with you?" her dad asked, staring at her curiously over his tablet. His honey-coloured eyes visible over the boring sections of the e-news he was no doubt reading. Politics and currencies, sports and communities—things that held no interest to her. Her dad, however, Mr Kamdev, loved all those things. He had to, she supposed, seeing how he worked as a market analyst or some such nonsense. Whatever that was.

Cammy—who of course did not know what that job entailed—nodded, continuing to scratch her back. Grimacing as her nails wracked over raw, bleeding skin. Yup, it had happened. Last night she must have scratched herself in her sleep, so much so that she broke skin.

"You know you can tell us if something is up?" Her mother was also looking at her from the inventory list for the day. Mrs Kamdev—now her job, Cammy understood. In fact, she wanted to work on it after she finished school. Help Mum out. Mummy Kamdev owned and ran a wedding planning business, and was in talks to buy her own event hall. Her mum worked in what Cammy considered the love industry, an industry she desperately wanted to be a part of, hoping one day she'd be able to plan her own ceremonies.

"It's nothing," Cammy lied, leaning back in her chair and wriggling about till she found a bit of relief. "And why do you guys keep staring at me like I've grown horns? I'm fine!"

"Cammy."

One word from mum was enough to break Cammy's bravado. "Okay, I've been freaking itchy since day one of camp and I can't get rid of it. I think I'm sick. I must've caught something in the bush and I'm freaking out. Please, help me!"

She thrust her back towards her mum, pleading, "Scratch my back, please! It's killing me."

There it was again. Her parents exchanged an odd look they'd been swapping lately, every time they sat down as a family. Often over the past weeks, Cammy had observed them whispering to each other, stopping when they noticed her around. It had become more frequent since she'd returned from camp—an entire week ago. This was the third loaded look they'd exchanged in the span of the half hour alone over breakfast.

"Camille," her mum began, laying a gentle hand on Cammy's back.

Cammy's back straightened at her full name. "What?" she snapped, tapping her mum's hand, signaling her to continue scratching.

Mummy Kamdev bit her lip. "I wish we could tell you what was going on..."

"Tell me what?" Cammy stared from mum to dad and back to mum, feeling an odd sense of nerves igniting beneath her skin. They knew something. They had to.

"We'll talk when you get home from school this afternoon. You're going to be late. Finish your breakfast and go get ready." Mr Kamdev put his tablet down slowly—exchanging another look with his wife. "I can give you a lift to school this morning. I have to head that way for a meeting, so I'll drop you off on my way."

Cammy looked at her parents, her annoying, devil-of-a-month long itch-war forgotten. "What is going on? You guys aren't getting divorced or nothing?"

"No, of course not!" her mother piped in just as the front doorbell rang loud through the hallway.

Her dad cleared his throat and picked up his tablet. "Go get the door, Cammy."

Reluctant to end the conversation that was going nowhere, Cammy went to the front door, trying to ignore the desire to slam her back against the wall for a moment and dance about.

In front of the door stood a short man, barely taller than her friend Becca-banana at five foot. A smile plastered on his face. His hair was sleek. He wore a clean suit and held a pristine-looking folder in his immaculately manicured hands.

"Sorry, not interested!" Cammy forced a barely there smile and went to close the door when the man spoke.

"Camille Lakshmi Kamdev? Born fourteen February, two thousand and five, of the house Aries?" the man asked.

Cammy stopped in her tracks, the door half closed on him already. How the hell—In that precise moment, her back itched like never before, as if her shoulder blades were ready to burst out of her body. All she wanted to do was slam the door and rush into her bathroom, just to check the skin condition hadn't worsened. But her curiosity got the better of her.

"Who are you?" She eyed the man from head to toe in his salesman attire. "Whatever you're selling, we're not interested."

"I'm not selling anything, Miss Kamdev. I'm here for my appointment." He glanced at his wristwatch as if to confirm. "Oh, my apologies. It seems I'm about five minutes early for it."

"Early for what?" Cammy blurted, gawking at him. Since when had her mum started taking client meetings at the house?

"The Appointment."

"Appointment with whom? My mum?" she bit back, annoyed at the man's vagueness and ill-timing.

The man smiled wider. His gaze seemed to say, 'Why, you of course, Miss Kamdev.'

Then the tolling of the eight bells on the giant grandfather clock in the study started and Cammy doubled over in pain. Her shoulders sheared in pain as if someone were cutting the muscle layer with a laser-blade. It had been happening at the strike of every hour since midnight. She'd almost forgotten about the impending pain—almost.

"Never mind," the man mumbled somewhere above her, watching her carefully as he stepped in through the door. "I seemed to have timed it perfectly."

Timed what, Cammy did not know. The pain shearing through her shoulder blades crippled her for several more minutes before subsiding. She held onto the wall to keep upright and looked at the uninvited guest.

"I'm sorry, who were you looking for? Mum or Dad?"

The man stood looking at her. "I'm looking at the person I'm here for, and by the looks of things, we are progressing nicely. By this evening you should sprout a healthy set of baby-wings... but of course, we can't call it baby-wings anymore. Upper management. You know how they get. Training-wings it is... of course, that's only till you earn the big ones—"

"I'm sorry, did you say wings?" Cammy tried not to laugh at him. It wasn't his fault of course that he sounded a little loopy. Maybe the man didn't know he was ill—mentally.

The man held up his hand to say 'a moment', set his folder aside on the hallway table and reached deep into his salesman bag. He brought out a thick voluminous book that couldn't have fit inside it, yet somehow had. He handed it over to Cammy, as he cleared his throat.

"I'm Agent 777, also known as Cupid 777, but I prefer my given name, Aziz. I'll be your trainer till your trials."

"What?" Cammy gasped, buckling under the weight of the giant volume that stood almost as tall as her torso and weighed as much as a giant sack of potatoes.

"You're a cupid-in-training, Miss Kamdev, and as of your sixteenth birthday, which is tomorrow, your training begins—and I'm assigned to train you," Aziz repeated himself with a smile.

"I'm a what?" Cammy asked, blinking like a deer caught in the headlight—for that is exactly what she was.

Her visitor smiled, a smile so sickly sweet she both wanted to punch him in the face and go 'Aww, aren't you a cutie!' at the same time. "You're a Cupid, Miss Kamdev. It's in your name. Now. Shall we begin? We have lots of legal and celestial rules and regulations to get through before we can sign on the dotted line and say fly, or shoot!"

"You're kidding, right?" Cammy had laughed and would regret it later. "You're not kidding?" She buckled beneath the weight of the book.

The man was not kidding. In fact, Cammy doubted the man knew the meaning of kid other than 'children'.

"Mum!" she yelled, desperately wanting her parents to intervene and calmly walk the delusional man out their door. Cupid-in-training! Ha. Like such things ever existed!

"Mum!" she called louder, her grip on the giant book slipping.

"Mum!" she cried as the book dropped to the floor with a thunderous thud. The title caught her eye then.

How to be a conscientious and thoughtful Modern-day Kamdev/Cupid. Volume I.

"MUM!"

Word count: 1467                          Total WC: 2849

[A/N: 'Kamdev' in Hinduism is the name for the God of Love, or better yet, God of Lust, as Kam=lust, dev=God. He is the Hindu version of Cupid. Going forward, I will be utilising quite a bit of Hindu myths about the Gods and their boundaries/powers/rules, etc. when they are said to roam Earth in human form. Though I will use myths and legends I grew up with as a springboard, many of the rules in this story will be a blend of fiction and legend, and will hopefully follow its own lore/rules. (I'll try anyway).

If I ever slip up, or you see glaring mistakes or any plot holes I have made, please point them out so I can fix them. 🙏 Much appreciated.]