On the day Claire became a member of the Glass House, she met a pretty cool teacher and somebody stole her laundry.
She had just finished her last class of the day, where she had the pleasure of meeting Professor Katya Petrova. She was her new Psychology professor and was an amazing teacher. She had so much energy when talking about the subject that no one could take their eyes off her.
Well that wasn't the only reason.
She was insanely beautiful. Her short, brown hair framed her sharp cheek bone perfectly and her bright green eyes were sharp and seemed to have a magical glow, like one glare from her would turn you to stone.
Claire, being an advocate for respecting those who educate, stayed behind to speak to her.
At first she was nervous, as the beautiful woman in front of her was like a beacon of intimidation, but when she saw her approach Professor Petrova's smile wiped all the fear from Claire's gut.
"Hi, professor?" she asked, although it sounded like a question.
Katya just chuckled "good afternoon... Claire was it?"
"Oh... Yeah" she laughed nervously "how did you know my name?"
Katya was currently sat at her desk organising her papers before she went back home, her last class of the day was just leaving and she was already planning her lessons for the next day when she heard the small sound of foot steps approaching.
She turned and smiled at the short brunette girl that was stood before her, just by glancing at her Katya could tell she was nervous.
"Hi, professor"
"Good afternoon... Claire was it?"
She knew she shocked the girl by knowing her name.
"Oh yeah... How did you know my name?"
Katya gave Claire another friendly smile in another attempt to ease the young girls nerves.
"how could I not know your name? Your the universitys little protégé, I think the majority of the professors here know who you are". She stood from her desk as she finished up what she needed to "so Claire, what can I help you with?"
Claire looked down at her feet as she shuffled them "I.. I.. Just wanted to say how much I enjoyed your lecture today. I've never enjoyed psychology as much as I did when you were talking about it"
Katya was flattered by the praise "thank you, that means a lot, I was hoping that the fact I'm not from here wouldn't effect my students views. I'm so glad my lectures are being received well"
"They definitely are. I couldn't see a single person in the room who wasn't listening to what you were saying"
They both spent another half an hour talking about the subject and future lesson plans, then they realised the time and Claire told her she had to get back to her student rooms to finish her laundry.
"Okay then Claire, it was great speaking to you. I can't wait to see you in my lessons again"
"Good bye professor. I will definitely be there"
Claire walked away with a huge smile on her face, already looking forward to continuing with the subject.
But it wasn't until she got to the student laundry rooms that her day went down hill.
When she reached into the crappy, beat-up washing machine, she found nothing but the wet slick sides of the drum, and - like a bad joke - the worst pair of underwear she owned plus one sock.
"No," she said out loud, and balanced herself on the edge of the washer to look down into the dark, partly rusted interior. It smelt like mould and cheap detergent. Getting a closer look didn't help. One crappy pair of underwear and one sock. One sock.
She was missing every piece of clothing that she had worn in the last two weeks. Every piece that she actually wanted to wear.
Claire had about three hundred dollars left to last her for for, well, months, after the latest round of calling out for pizza and buying yet another book... although this was for Professor Petrova's class so it was worth it.
She supposed she could find some clothes, if she looked around, that wouldn't totally blow her entire budget. After all, downtown Morganville, was the thrift shop capital of the world. Assuming she could find anything she could stand to wear.
It was after thinking about what her Mum and Dad would say, that she saw the note.
Not so much 'note' as graffiti, but it was addressed to her, on the painted cinder block above the washing machines.
Dear Dork,
We found trash in the machines and threw it down the shoot. If you want it, dive for it.
'Shit,' she breathed, and had to blink back tears again, for an entirely different reason.
Blind. Stupid. Rage.
Monica.
Her and her little followers the Monickettes were the brain of her university life. The hot mean girls that always seemed to run in packs. Why did they have to focus on her?
No, she knew why. She made Monica look stupid in front of her friends.
"But I just corrected her, I didn't mean to make her look stupid" she thought.
Although she was brand-new, small and average looking, and smart.
She thought when she was a kid being beaten up was the worst thing, being ignored was worse by far. She'd got school a year before everyone and left a year ahead of them. Nobody liked that.
Nobody but the teachers, anyway.
Claire loved school, learning and physics.
What kind of teenage girl love physics?
Claire, that's who. And let's be honest being hot was where it's at. What ever it is.
She bit back sobs. It wasn't fair. She had gotten up early to put her washing in before heading off to class. How did Monica know her washing was in there? How did she know it was her washing. Well nothing to do now but try to get her stuff back. She lifted her heavy, book filled backpack up and over her shoulder. She stuffed the pitiful pieces of clothing in the front pocket of her backpack. Man, that would kill whatever cool she had left, if she walked around carrying those.
'Well,' said a low, satisfied voice from the open door opposite the stairs, 'look who it is, the dumpster diver.'
She turned around slowly, as Monica Morrell stepped out of the dorm room - not hers, so she busted Erica's lock again. Monica's running buddies Jennifer and Gina filed out and took up flanking positions. Preppy soldiers. It was almost laughable.
'Shouldn't you be in junior high right now?' Monica asked.
'Maybe she's looking for the clothes she left lying around' Gina's piled on and laughed.
Jennifer laughed with her. 'Litterbug.'
'Clothes?' Monica pretend to be confused for a second. 'You mean those rags we threw away? The ones she left cluttering up the washer?'
'Yeah those'
'I wouldn't wear those to sweat in'
'I wouldn't wear them to scrub out the boy's toilet,' Jennifer blurted.
Monica, annoyed, shoved her. 'Yeah, you know all about the boy' s toilet, don't you? Didn't you do Stevenage Gillespie in ninth grade there?'
Jennifer looked uncomfortable and - of course - turned her anger on a safer target. Claire.
She lunged forward and shoved Claire a step back towards the stairs.' Go get your stupid clothes already! I'm sick of looking at you, with your pasty skin-'
'Yeah, Junior High, ever heard of sunshine?' Gina's rolled her eyes.
'Watch it,' Monica snapped, which was odd, because all three of them had the best tans money could buy.
Claire try to steady herself, but the heavy backpack pulled her off-balance, so she grabbed the banister. When Jennifer lunged at her again and shoved her hard in the chest Claire yelped 'don't!' and batted Jean's hand away. Hard.
Silence.
'Did you just hit my friend, you stupid little bitch? Where do you think you get off, doing things like that around here?' Monica said, very quietly.
And she stepped forward and slapped Claire across the face, hard enough to draw blood.
Claire let go of the banister and slapped her right back.
She never saw the punch coming.
She almost caught herself before her back-pack could pull her off-balance, but Gina, grinning spiteful lying, reached over and shoved her backwards, down the stairs.
She hit every stair all the way to the bottom. Her backpack split open, sending her books tumbling down the stairs with her.
When she eventually came to a stop at the bottom, she remembered hearing one more thing in the darkness: Monica's voice, a low and vicious whisper. 'Tonight. You'll get what's coming to you, you freak. I'm going to make sure'.
