I am Clara

Delayed Reactions

 Mimpi still hadn't visited, and about a week after our last meeting I felt whatever I had swallowed dissolve in my stomach. Don't ask me how but I felt it. I only started to feel its affect during supper, a few days after the incident. I was cold. Drenched in sweat but freezing, and my entire body itchy. Of course, Anna had to choose that day to come home early and prepare a nice supper.

     Sitting across from Anna and Jim at the Andrews' table, I did my best to look normal as I ate Mrs. Andrews famous lasagna. I don't believe I was physically capable of looking normal, considering the fact I was wearing a winter hat and two thick wool sweaters in a heated house. The scratching myself every two seconds was also earning me a few odd glances.

    "Are you alright?" Andrews asked, as I attempted to aggressively scratch both my arms and legs at the same time. I didn't have enough hands.

    "I'm fine," I snapped, growing irritated. Not with him, but the unstoppable itch.

    "You've barely eaten," he noted.

     Not this again. Maybe he and Isaiah could team up to form the perfect interrogation duo. "I'm not really hungry."

    "You're always hungry... And you love lasagna."

     "I'm starting a cold. I don't have much of an appetite. And whether I eat or not is none of your concern."

     "You're sick again?"

     "I've got a weak immune system. No big deal," I claimed, though he seemed to think otherwise. Again, I had to refrain from, loudly, informing him that he was not my mother! I was a big girl who could take care of herself.

    "Seems more like chicken pox than a cold." He studied the hand scratching the back of my neck. "Stop. It won't help." He pulled my hand away.

    "Don't tell me what to do." I moved my hand back to my neck. "Besides I had the chicken pox when I was six."

    "Perhaps you've got fleas, then. Jason's dog is known to have quite a few." He stabbed his noodles.

    Jason? As in Bradford? How did his name manage to make it into this conversation? Andrews has always disliked the guy, but to blame him for an itch was pretty lame.

    "Are you implying that I got fleas from Jason's dog?" I asked, in a tone of disbelief.

     "Don't look at me like that," he nagged. "It is a possibility, is it not?"

     "No. It really is not. I have never, in my entire life, seen his dog."

     "Maybe not, but he has been giving you rides home. You've sat where the dog has sat."

    I stared at him blankly for a few moments, so exasperated that I struggled to find words. "He gave me a ride." I emphasized the a. "He drove me home once, and only because you had a dentist appointment and forgot to mention that you wouldn't be able to drive me."

    "I did mention it."

     "Ten minutes before the last bell!"

     Andrews rolled his eyes, as if the time he had given me was plenty, and I was the unreasonable one. "Still, you chose him... The flea thing really isn't that ridiculous."

     "He was my only option," I scoffed. "You are totally being ridiculous... Perhaps rather than fleas, I've received bed bugs from our studying last night. Your room isn't exactly what most would consider clean."

    I had insulted him, but Andrews had the nerve to laugh. Anna and Jim were equally entertained by our little dispute.

     "I may be ridiculous, but don't you rather be annoyed than itchy?" He smirked pointedly. He was trying to imply that the whole argument was a ruse to distract me, but I knew better. Andrews' not that smart.