I am Clara

The Short Green Man and Her Hero

As I had decided the previous night, I didn't intend on going to school that morning. I ignored my alarm clock. It was only one day of school; my grades weren't going to come spiralling down. I didn't even know if I would survive long enough to make it to graduation, I had lost all hopes of caring for my grades.

      Looked like it didn't matter that I unplugged my alarm from the wall, my mother replacement decided to also replace my alarm clock.

      "Get up," Andrews ordered, entering my room. He knocked this time, but he didn't wait for my response, beating the whole purpose of knocking.

      "We're leaving in twenty minutes." My lights were turned on, and my blinds opened.

      No chance of a rainy day in this town, the sunlight came pouring into my bedroom. I grunted, pulling the blanket over my head. Andrews and I wrestled with the blanket. Considering the weak state of my body, the battle didn't last long. Had he tried this any other day; the outcome would have been much different. After a minute or so, my hands let go. Andrews fell on his behind, blanket in hands, and my cold body was uncovered. He sure wasn't helping my sour mood. You do not poke an angry bear unless you want your head bitten off. And let me just tell you, Andrews had already passed the having his entire arm bitten off, risk zone.

      "Just leave without me," I complained.

      The blanket wouldn't stop me from sleeping. If he thought he had won, he thought wrong.

       "No." He stood up. "We're lucky we got away with yesterday— What happened to your back?"

       My back? I had almost forgotten that I had been thrown into a large tree. I'm sure that had left a nasty mark. I didn't know how bad it looked, but by the way Andrews' tone went up two octaves, I figured the skin peeking out from my white tank-top was heavily bruised. I didn't need Andrews growing suspicious. With great effort, I forced myself to roll onto my back. Andrews' hand, that had been about to touch my back, was now very close to my chest. I raised my brows, to which he blushed, and immediately recoiled. Ah, a blushing Andrews: cute. It almost made up for the many ways he annoyed me.

      "Did your mother—"

      "No! Laine would never do that," I interrupted, a little offended that he thought she would. "She's a good person, Andrews."

      He nodded, though he looked unsure. As scary as she was, my mother was a die-hard Jesus fan, she would not evoke physical pain on others.

      "What happened, then?"

      "I fell when I went out for Bella's birthday." I had fallen, and I imagined that had also left a mark. Probably not this mark, but a mark, nonetheless. He smiled and nodded as though it was an understandable explanation. A few seconds passed before his expression transformed; brows shooting together.

      "As in you tripped, or actually fell out of the window?"

      "Neither." I blinked casually. "But I suppose you could go with the second one."

      "You fell out of my brother's third floor bedroom?!" he demanded, pinching the bridge of his nose in defeat.

      "Not exactly... I fell out of the tree."

      "Clara," he whined, over pronouncing the last syllable of my name.

      "It's not like I did it by purpose. And I didn't fall from very high."

      He stared at me blankly, doing his best to forget what I had said. I hope he wasn't paying too much attention to my forehead, I'm sure I had a lump somewhere from that blow to the head.