I am Clara

I'm Given the Boot

I woke still sprawled across the black leather sofa and couldn't mask my surprise. I had fallen asleep watching Tv on many occasions, but never had my mother let me stay there the entire night. I'd have thought she'd at least place a blanket over my cold body. She still thought, or more so knew, something was wrong with me.

      "Good morning," I greeted, entering the kitchen.

      "Morning," she mumbled. She didn't dare meet my eyes.

      I poured myself a bowl of cereal, watching her in the corner of my eye. Patiently I waited for our usual morning conversation. She liked to talk about her church meetings, she usually had a bunch of stories she considered funny. But today? Nothing. She didn't even eat with me; she grabbed her coffee and newspaper and headed towards the porch.

      Pushing my bowl away, having lost my appetite, I dropped my head between my hands. My fingers on my temple, I finally noticed the tingling in my fingertips. Seriously? I placed my hands beneath the kitchen light. On my left index finger was a small pin hole, the size of a certain crystal pain in the ass. What could possibly be wrong with my fingertips? Were they not round enough? An entire body of flaws, but this is what the Sphere chose to correct? This had to be a joke.

     Isaiah who had just walked in, took a banana from the counter, and shot me a strange glance. I copied his frown. He shook his head, gave me another strange look, and went to his room, where I assumed, he'd be reading comic books all day. I'd be doing something much more productive; I'd finally finish the homework that was due last week. I'd even take out a board game after supper, like we used to do. Hopefully this would change mom's mind. She may very well think the behaviour odd, but I had to try something.

     Mom seemed impressed with the amount of homework I did, and she was even smiling during monopoly. She wasn't smiling at me though. She was having a great time with the younger kids, expression changing every time she glanced my way.

      "Are you and momma fighting?" Isaiah whispered as we finished the dishes.

      I shook my head, fearing my voice would reveal something to the perceptive twelve-year-old.

      "It seems like you—"

      "Isaiah please," I interrupted, begging him to once again drop the topic.

      Shooting me a sad smile, he gave the interrogation a rest. I thanked him, put away the last of the dishes, and went to bed. I didn't care that it wasn't even my five-year-old sisters' bedtime yet. I was tired, and sleep would distract me from my deteriorating relationship with my mother. I hadn't even given her good reason to be suspicious yet. I could only keep this secret for so long.

      Having fallen asleep peacefully, I wasn't surprised to be abruptly woken by a sudden bright light. I came to the conclusion that every time things started looking up, I ought to expect the Sphere to meddle and ruin it.

      Slowly rousing, sleepily shielding the light from my eyes, before I knew it, I was pricked right over the heart. With a sharp inhale, I covered my mouth with my hand, to refrain from bellowing in pain. Yelling unexpectedly would only worsen things with mom. My heart was beating inhumanly fast, pounding so fast that I thought it might burst out of my chest. I gripped the edge of my headboard, panting, and writhing in pain. With every heartbeat, a shot of pain surged through my veins. Panicking as I ached with an intensity that consumed all my thoughts, I didn't hear the footsteps.

      "Clara?" a voice asked urgently.

      How was she so fast? How did she hear me, when I had put such effort in remaining quiet? No matter the reason behind her felt need to check-up on me, this would not be good. Had I been able to, I'd have pretended to be asleep, but I was panting too heavily to do so.