The response for this story has been so much than I had expected and I'm so grateful for all of you.
Besides that... Happy reading :)
Chapter Three: Silver Lining
"Who in the world am I? Ah, that's the great puzzle."
― Lewis Carroll
Goddammit, I'm going to rip my cheap, old, second hand socks. And because someone tattled on me like a five year old. Goddammit.
Clara grimaced as she furiously scratched her knees, desperate for a release. She could still feel the stinging sensation from being on her knees for almost an hour. It was her punishment for acting out the last few weeks. Sister Karen had made her pray for a large amount of time that she had shown up to school almost an hour late.
Her face flushed and hair sticking out in odd directions, Clara had walked into the classroom in the middle of History where the teacher was talking about the civil war. All eyes were on her; judging, laughing at her. Clara wasn't fazed by the unnecessary attention as she headed to her seat.
Clara growing up had often stood out, whether it was good or bad. When she was five, she had eaten something that didn't sit well with her and ended up throwing up on a boy. When she was ten, she had won a competition a spelling bee that the school held every year. It had been her third win in a row. And, apparently now, she could do strange things with fire but no one knew about that yet.
But the difference to then and now was that knew what made her different. Right now that all that she needed to know what exactly was what made her different. And she was thankful that it wasn't a disease, hopefully.
The school library books didn't help at all. They didn't have the information that she was looking for. The books were all children books. About fairy tales. Talking mice. Runaway princesses. Giants chasing thieving children. Little piglets. None was about burning hands. Or healing magically.
She had discounted bibles because to be fair, they would call her either a miracle or the reincarnation of Lucifer. But if she thought about it on the bright side, her silver lining, Lucifer loved God so much that it was because of that he became a fallen angel. Or so that's what she's been told. Right now she didn't know what to believe.
Clara wanted to look for more information, unfortunately, she had more important priorities; attending school. Although, her mind would only focus on her burning hand and didn't listen to any of her teacher's drone on about school. She twirled her pencil idly as she half listened to her teacher drone about rocks. The classroom was relatively quiet but it didn't ease her headache.
Clara could clearly hear the next door classroom shouting and laughing. Every sound they made, from laughing, gigging, writing on paper, moving their legs; she would hear as if she was in the room. Clara just wanted to throw a chair to the boys next door that wouldn't stop making farting noises with their arms. It was Ron and Jonathan. She couldn't wait to go home and make them pay.
Clara threw a dirty look to the girl that was row next to her, who would keep shaking her leg that would make the desk shake and squeak. She rubbed her temples, trying to ease the pain that was growing. Clara felt someone nudge her foot but she ignore them, wanting to concentrate on her breathing.
"... and then we have that. Now, this one on the right, look at that. Does anybody knows where it comes from?" Ms. Miller, the science teacher, looked around the classroom with a hopeful expression, hoping that one of her students would at least participate in the lesson.
Usually, Clara would take pity on the perky teacher. She reminded her of Sister Rosemary. She was young and full of energy, still believing that she could make a change to the unfortunate children. Clara had overheard few teachers saying that she use to teach at a colored school but had to leave the job because they had threatened her family.
That had earned the admiration of Caitlin, who was half-colored. Clara, on the other hand, had come to admired her when she saw Ms. Miller help a girl who was clearly disabled. Clara also found her optimistic infectious and liking how organized she was.
But today Clara wasn't going to her rescue, she was barely paying attention. She was too busy being self-centered. After a few seconds and no one spoke up, Ms. Miller smile still remained intact and tried again to encourage the class to participate.
"Come on, it's not that hard. It's a very simple question. You already went over it a long time ago. This is just a few new information."
Clara yelped when she felt someone kick her shin harshly.
"Clara do you have something to say?" Ms. Miller called out for her.
"No I don't," she said shortly. When Ms. Miller looked away, Clara turned around and glared at Caitlin, who sat behind her.
"What was that about?" she hissed.
"Why did you come late?" Caitlin demanded in low voice.
Clara stared at her in disbelief and shook her head, not having time for Caitlin's tantrums. She turned around and stared at the blackboard that was in front of the classroom.
"Clara," she heard Caitlin hissed. "Come on."
After a few moments of awkward silence, finally someone took pity on Ms. Miller because Clara heard the teacher make a happy noise.
"Yes, May?"
"Volcano, right?" she answered hesitantly.
"Correct," Ms. Miller beamed. Caitlin and Rosie, another girl from Saint Elena's, clapped for May's correct answer. The said girl, face turned bright red at the attention. "That's enough girls. And of course, you girls probably already knew this but were just shy, weren't you? Anyways, this volcano is from..."
Clara accidentally dropped the pen to the floor and she reluctantly looked up from her desk. She blinked when she saw a picture of something familiar that was in the book Ms. Miller was holding. She leaned back in her seat and chewed in her bottom lip, her brows furrowing.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Clara stilled and looked around, hoping that she didn't say it aloud. Whether she said it out loud or not, it seemed that no one was paying attention to her, all of them were looking straight ahead, their expressions full of boredom, finding the lesson tedious.
"What's the name of what comes out of the volcano?" Ms. Miller asked another question.
"Magma," Clara said under her breath.
"It's magma," Ms. Miller answered her own question, not bothering that time for someone to answer. "And did you know that magma can turn into a rock after it cools off? It's called obsidian. It's really strong and..."
The shrill bell rang interrupting the teacher. Without being excused, the girls got up and ran out of the classroom eager for lunch. Ms. Miller walked to the door and kept saying reminders.
"Don't forget to study... Naomi, please turn in your overdue homework, don't turn it in and you'll have summer school. You'll be seeing more of me... and, oh forget it, you'll see tomorrow." Ms. Miller sighed and when Clara passed her, she felt a hand grip her shoulder. Clara stopped and looked up to see Ms. Miller giving her a knowing look. "Clara, can I talk to you?" she requested.
She twisted her mouth, displeased but nodded. She retreated back to the classroom and sat in the closest desk as she waited for all of the students to leave the classroom.
Am I in trouble? Clara wondered and felt one of her fingers twitch of her right hand. Don't you dare do it right now. I will chop you right off if you do.
When it was just the teacher and her, Clara rose from her desk and headed towards the teacher's desk. Ms. Miller smiled at her pleasantly, her arms folded in front of the desk. Clara winced at how strong the scent of her teachers perfume was.
"What can I do for you?"
"Clara you are aware that all of the information I was going over is going to be in a quiz that we are having tomorrow? I wasn't just talking to hear my enchanting voice."
"Um... yes," she lied, internally panicking.
"Really?" The severe looking teacher cocked her eyebrow.
"Of course. Isn't that why you teach us? So some of us have a chance for a better life while the rest of us will get mediocre jobs or have nothing to live for?"
"I'm going to ignore that new found attitude and ask you this; then why weren't you paying attention in class?"
Clara, who had been looking at the floor, eyes widened and looked at her teacher in disbelief. "What? I was—I was paying attention. It was about volcanoes."
Ms. Miller sighed and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Clara, I know my students. And I know when they are not paying attention. And I know you."
"You don't know me," Clara said quickly, earning a disapproving look from Ms. Miller. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "That was rude."
"It's fine. I do know you well enough that you always participate in class when I'm doing a lesson. And the reason I'm talking to you now is because I had noticed that this isn't the first time you haven't been paying attention."
"What would make you say that?" Clara asked incredulously.
"You don't listen and don't participate and I heard you snap at May a few days ago. Are you alright?" Ms. Miller looked at her in concern. "You always pay attention and nice, and now you are rude at times."
"Uh..." She picked at her skirt. "No I wasn't—don't feel well, that's it."
"Are you sure? You can trust me. I know at times environment in orphanages are the best and with all the children running around, it's understandable for your reckle—"
"No. No, no," Clara interrupted her, her tone harsh and giving her an angry look. She hated it when the teachers would blame whatever problem one of the students from Saint Elena's on the orphanage. "Saint Elena's has nothing to do. It's a good place. Whatever is going on with me, it's all on me."
Ms. Miller looked at her carefully, taking in her strong stance. "Fine then," she conceded. "But you still need to straighten your attitude in class. I don't want that passing around to the other girls."
"It won't, it's not a disease," she said in a defensive tone and then took a deep breath, continuing in a calmer voice. "I promise, I'm working on it."
"I'm getting the feeling this isn't the first time someone has mentioned about your new behavior."
Clara actually cracked a smile and nodded, licking her lips nervously. "Actually, yeah. It's not the first time but this one went much better. Last one I had to pray for a really long time, you can see my knees for evidence."
"Well, from what I know about Saint Elena's, you did probably did something to deserve it. I hear Sister Karen keeps a tight ship around the place."
"You have no idea." Clara wrinkled her nose, remembering the drilling stare she could feel behind her head that Sister Karen gave her in the morning before she let her be excused to go to school. Ms. Miller smiled and looked over to the edge of the desk where the book she was reading to the class was. Clara followed her gaze and sighed.
"Can I... Can I borrow the book, so I can study?" she asked timidly. "I don't want to fail. Being a good student is the only good thing I have in my life."
"You should have paid attention," Ms. Miller scolded.
"I should've, you are completely right, but I didn't feel well. I do like volcanoes," she said distractedly, her hand already inching to the worn out book. "There's something about them that I just like. Maybe at how they can look majestic while at the same time being destructive."
"They are fascinating, aren't they?" agreed Ms. Miller, wearing a fond smile. "I've always wanted to see one. Something about them, just makes me feel warm. Which is ironic."
Clara nodded. "That sounds nice but can I borrow the book? Please?"
Ms. Miller pressed her lips in a thin line, her brows furrowed as she contemplated. But she nodded and slid the book across the desk. "Fine, I'm letting you borrow it because you are my best-behaved student and you're not feeling well. I hope you get a perfect score."
"Of course." Clara nodded and then cringed when she heard a particularly loud shriek of a student from outside the courtyard.
"Clara, are you alright?" Ms. Miller asked, her face ached in motherly concern. Clara was sure that there was a law for a teacher to become too emotionally involved with their students but if there was, Ms. Miller has broken it many years ago. Clara hated that she took a special interest in the children from Saint Elena's, she had the mentality that all children from orphanages were broken.
But in that moment, Clara was grateful for Ms. Miller's overbearing personality. Clara wasn't fine. She had a never ending headache and her body felt like it was burning even though her skin was cold and she was in a horrible mood all the time. She glanced at the window and could see children running around, screaming in joy and having the time of their lives. She would rather jump off the school building than spend time with all that racket.
Clara gave Ms. Miller a tired smile. "I actually haven't been feeling well. Can I go to the infirmary?"
"You're sick? Did you catch something from the orphanage? I heard that Jonathan had something." Ms. Miller looked at her sympathetically, which made Clara feel annoyed.
"No I didn't catch anything from Jonathan. I just have a splitting headache."
"Are you sure?" she said doubtfully, eyeing at her sloppy appearance.
"Yes, I'm sure. Can I go?" Clara asked again.
Ms. Miller still looked unconvinced but agreed. "Of course you may go. You're excused for the rest of the day. Your health goes first. Maybe that's what been causing your behavior to change."
"Maybe... but thank you."
Ms. Miller nodded distractedly, her attention already going to the homework from the students that she collected earlier. "I really do hope that you fix everything that is going on. It would be a shame for you to get off track for that small problem you have."
"How do you know its small?" she muttered.
Ms. Miller looked at her carefully. "Make better choices Clara. That's what gets you out of those situations."
Clara nodded solemnly and took the book. She went to the door and stopped at the door and looked back at Ms. Miller. "Thanks for the book again... and for everything else." She opened the door and closed it.
"There's nothing wrong with you Clara. It's all in your head."
Clara felt like she was slammed against the wall. She slowly looked back at the closed door, feeling a pit grow at the bottom of her stomach, that could only be described as fear. Clara was sure she heard Ms. Miller say it but she had been hearing a lot of things lately, so there wasn't a sure answer. Clara waited for a minute but could only hear Ms. Miller shuffling the paper and her pencil scratching as she wrote.
"There's nothing wrong with you Clara. It's all in your head." Those words kept looping around her head that it made Clara nauseous. She ran to the nearest trash can and gagged. She gasped for air and wiped her mouth clumsily. She straighten up and glanced at Ms. Miller's door.
"I'm going to an asylum," she decided and walked down the hall, going to the nurse office. She knocked on the door and didn't wait for an answer, already going inside.
"Clara, I was wondering when you would show up," the plump nurse greeted her with a pleasant voice. She wasn't a stranger to Clara, use to her constant visits and would never question her when she showed up. Clara despite her many visits didn't know her real name. She just went as Nurse, it was actually endearing.
"I don't live to disappoint. Besides, how can I stay away from here? It's like my fourth home." Clara for the first time of the day gave her a genuine smile.
"Fourth?" Nurse scoffed, placing a hand on her chest in mock offense.
"There's Saint Elena's and church and unfortunately school and then here, this room." Clara listed off, using her numbers. She held her three fingers high.
"I'm slightly offended that I'm fourth. By the time you spend here, I should be second."
"At least you have a place, I don't consider school any home but it's just an unfortunate place that I spend most of my time in. More than my actual home so, maybe it should have a higher place."
"All righty, I have to ignore my wounded pride because I have to attend you. What can I do for you, my dear? What's got you down this time? Is it a cough? Do you have a fever? Or did you throw up again? Or all of the above?" Nurse gave her a teasing smiled that Clara didn't return.
Clara simply shrugged. "I have a headache which is making it really hard for me to focus. Can I lay down for a while on the couch? Is that alright?"
"Let me take a look." Nurse motioned her to go towards her. Clara was about her height so Nurse had to tilt her head up to inspected her. She grabbed Clara's cheeks and pinched them tightly. "You look pale, my dear."
Clara pried her hands away from her cheeks and gave her a faint smile. "I'm always pale."
"You are, you should go out to the sun. The sun does wonder to the health. Are you under stress?"
Clara gave her a half-shrug.
"Sister Karen did mention you have been under the weather lately."
Clara raised her eyebrows questioningly but didn't say anything.
"Nothing to worry about," Nurse assured her. "Just a nun worried over her children, especially the sick one."
Clara made a face and Nurse laughed. "Not just you, she also told me about Jonathan and that nasty rash he has."
"Oh, well, um, that's not good." Clara cringed at the unnecessary information.
"Well..." Nurse clapped her hands and pushed Clara away from her. "I think a nap would do you some good. Sleep all day if you want, I'll make sure no one bothers you."
Clara nodded numbly as Nurse headed back to her office. Clara sighed, looking around the mundane room, that she was familiar with. She made her way back to the couch—the nurse office didn't have a bed—dropping down onto the corner cushion and curling her feet underneath her. She leaned her elbow on the arm rest and propped her head up with her hand.
The exhaustion washed over her suddenly, as she closed her eyes. She could hear the murmur of voices coming from the cafeteria. Those noises were the last thing she was aware of, the words themselves becoming background noise before she slipped into a troubled sleep.
Clara was dreaming. She was sure because she had experienced the dream already.
The sky was dull gray, full of clouds that obscured the sunshine. And the floor was muddy, a clear sign that it has been raining. There were tracks of feet all over the floor, a variation of size, from children to adults.
The mud was slippery, making it impossible for Clara to walk without falling on her knees. She was covered in mud and other filthy grime. Her hair was a tangled mess, sticking to her sweaty skin. She looked around the place and realized that it was camp that was surrounded by a barb wired fence with guards guarding the place. It seemed that she was the only one there.
"Hello?" she called out timidly. No one answered to her meek words, the guards didn't even acknowledge her presence.
A blood curling scream that came from inside the building in front of her made her cower, going on the floor as she curled herself in a form of protection. She continued to her the piecing screaming coming from inside and the guards around the place weren't fazed by the awful noise.
"Clara." A feminine voice sang her name from afar, near where the screaming had been coming from. "Clara."
Curious and a little frighten, Clara got up and tripped as she followed the voice that kept repeating her name. She almost reached the voice when she felt a force pull her back.
"No," she screamed when a guard picked her up and handed her to another one.
"Clara, my dear, where are you? Come and join me and the rest. Don't leave." Clara had never heard the voice before but she knew, deep inside of her, that it was her mother. She sounded in despair like it physically hurt her being apart from her daughter. "Clara, don't leave me."
"I don't want to leave you. Where are you?" Clara screeched but she couldn't hear her mother. "Where's my mommy?" she screamed. She kicked at the guards and almost got out of their grasp when a looming shadow covered her and made her stop fighting.
"She's inside. You'll be with her." The voice was rough and it made the hair on her neck stand up but she calmed down immediately at the promise of seeing her mother and let the guard take her into the shed.
She could still hear her mother's voice ringing inside of her head, begging her to be with her and not abandon her. Why would Clara abandon her? It was her mother. The women who gave her life. Clara was disappointment when she didn't see her mother. The room was filled with sleeping children, all laying down on the floor. They were covered in dirt and coal.
"Where are their mommy's?" she asked and glanced at the guard but he was gone. Clara tried to get out but there was no door. There wasn't even a window, the only light came from a small lamp.
Clara curled up, hearing voices coming from outside. They were singing in a foreign language that she somehow understood. She hummed along, listening as the noises became louder and louder. She went on her feet when the voices were almost screaming.
"Mamma?" she called out. The screaming grew and it made her recoil back to her spot. But minutes passed and the screaming slowly eased for it to become bearable. Clara got up and looked around.
"Clara."
"Mamma?" She ran to the wall in front of her and pounded with her small hands. "Mamma?"
She gasped and dropped her hands to her side, feeling exhausted. She turned back to the face the children. Even in their sleep, they looked troubled. Where were their parents? Why weren't they begging for them?
"Get up," she ordered the sleeping children but they didn't move. "Why aren't you getting up?"
The light in the room started dimming and Clara walked up to the oil lamp. She picked it up and stared at. A hand reached out from the floor, making her screech and drop the oil lamp on her feet. Her entire body was on fire and she could feel nothing. Everything she would touch, instead of burning it would explode. The windowless room was becoming red and she could see the children rising.
"Where's my mamma?" she whispered, her voice broken. "I just need my mamma."
They were all coughing, black smoke coming out of their mouths. Clara reached over to touch a boy, that was about six, and when her hand touched his flimsy coat, he stopped coughing and turned to look at her and opened his mouth uttering the most devastating words she'd ever heard.
"Brenne in der Hölle, du dreckige Kreatur."
Burn in hell you filthy creature. And that's exactly what Clara did.
Her eyes flew open and the first thing she saw was the crack ceiling. She moved her body and groaned when she felt her stiff bones. She slowly sat up and furrowed her brows when she didn't recognize the bare wall in front of her. She shifted her body and leaned back against the couch, taking her a few seconds to orient herself. She blinked slowly, everything flooding back to her.
Nurse office. Didn't feel well. Took nap.
But something wasn't right. She stifled yawned, her grogginess slipping away. Clara stiffed when she smelled something odd and sniffed the air, smelling something like melting plastic. She looked around and recoiled when the saw the arm rest of the couch burning.
"This is perfect." She groaned in annoyance, no longer scared at seeing the flame. But she did jump back when the fire sparked up and burned her sleeve. She lost balance and fell to the floor.
Fear went through her veins. She looked at her body and didn't see anything wrong with it. Clara looked over her shoulder and was relieved when she that the nurse room was empty.
The arm chair still had flames, they were small but still there. Clara stared in fascination, the colors bringing life to the bleak room. Not thinking, she reached out and put her hand over the flames. She winced as the flames sting her but kept her hand on them.
The door flew open making Clara jump back. She shoved her hand inside her sweater and scrambled up to sit down in the area that previously had been burning. Nurse came into the room and gave her a wide smile.
"Clara," she greeted cheerfully. "You're awake. Which is fantastic. Just on time."
She blinked, her mind trying to catch up to the present time. "I'm sorry?"
"School ended about ten minutes ago. You can go now." Nurse gestured toward the door. "Out you go. Freedom is right outside this threshold."
"Oh, right." Clara's eyes darted to the lump in her sweater, where her hand was in a fist. She nodded reluctantly and slowly got off the couch. "Great, well, thank you and, well, I'll probably see you soon."
Nurse laughed and without warning grabbed Clara's cheeks, and just like she did before, squeezed them. "Poor dear, always getting sick. Something is clearly not right."
Thanks, that really makes me feel better. But instead, Clara tried to give her smile and gently pried her hands of her cheeks. "I'm sure it's nothing."
"Always the optimistic."
"Well, like I was taught. There's always a silver lining," Clara said and started heading to the door when Nurse stopped her. "Yeah?" She turned around, tapping her foot impatiently.
"One of your friends, can't remember her name... she has the wild curly hair and big teeth. You know who I'm talking about?"
"Hmm... Caitlin?"
"Yes, that one. Caitlin, your friend. Well, she told me to tell you that she is waiting for you outside of the school entrance. "
Clara tried to keep her face void of emotion when all she wanted to do was groan. Having Caitlin around would make everything worse. Clara flashed an appreciative smile to Nurse. "Thank you," she said and left the room before she could be stopped.
Clara headed to the back of the school, where almost nobody took the entrance. Clara checked her hand and somehow didn't feel anything when she saw her hand be intact. She ignored everything and ran as fast as she could to the orphanage.
Clara locked herself in the bathroom, not wanting someone to walk on her. She headed straight upstairs when she reached the orphanage. Clara was fortunate that it was evening; everybody would be in the dining room eating together and because the weather was pleasant for once, everybody would go directly to the yard, giving her enough time to experiment.
She paced around the bathroom, her shoes squeaking against the wet tiles, mentally preparing herself for the unexpected. She shuddered, despite the bathroom being humid. Unconvinced by the locked door, Clara took extra precaution, she dragged one of the small tables they had and jammed it against the door.
She nodded in satisfaction and positioned herself in front of the mirror that was above the sink. Staring at her reflection, she could see a girl that was pale and tired but her eyes were bright, full of anticipation.
"Clara Welsh, you are not ordinary apparently," Clara coached herself. "But I need you to show me what you aren't because if you don't I will end up in an asylum, going crazy and no one is going to take me out. Do you want that? No, you don't." She heaved a sighed and gripped the white sink. "But maybe we do deserve to go there. I am referring myself in the third person."
She let go of the sink and looked at her pale hands, that were covered in cuts and calloused fingers. She wondered why did she still have these scars and not the other ones. "Strange but I'll figure it out," she muttered and looked back at the mirror. "Come on. Just do it," she ordered herself. "I want to burn!"
But ordering didn't make anything happen, making her incredibly frustrated. She moved away from the mirror and slid down to sit on the wet bathroom floor and rested her head against the wall, trying to figure out what the hell was she doing.
"I need to..." she mumbled, playing idly with her fingers. She tried to remember what had caused her hand to change. In the attic, she had been in pain because of her bleeding gash. With Sister Karen, she was nervous and slightly scared about what she would say to her. In the nurse's room, she had woken up from a distressing nightmare, that made her want to cry. In those situations, she had been under great distress.
"I'm distressed," she said, almost laughing hysterically. "I'm distressed. Maybe depressed. And stressed. Really, really stressed. I can't pray because I feel like I am doing something wrong. My friends hate me for my unbearable personality. Ms. Miller called me out on my personality. Sister Karen is watching me like a hawk, thinking that I am crazy, and maybe I am. Come on, just do it."
Nothing. Her hand remained intact. Smooth, pale from the lack of sun exposure. She closed her eyes, and realized that these past few days, with her anger and moping, she had wasted them in something probably wasn't even real.
"Fine then. If nothing happens then great. Fewer problems for me. I need to—ah, no shit. Why?!"
She whimpered at the sudden pain that erupted through her body. She felt on fire but then a cold wave went through her, making her loosen up. A small smile of disbelief crossed her lips when she looked down.
Her hand wasn't on fire but it was oddly burning. It looked like it was breathing. It was a mixture of colors, red and orange, reminding her of lava. She could feel her skin tighten as the heat grew bigger. Clara hesitantly reached to grab it and the moment she touched it, and as expected, her skin felt on fire. She pulled her hand away quickly and saw that her fingertips burned, the skin charred. She looked at her other hand and saw that it had changed. It was harder looking.
She refused to look away, staring at it intently. She forgot about her lava hand and only focused on what was going to happen. But the lava hand started changing and it became hotter. The towel that was next to her, burst into flames, making her flinch.
Inside her head, alarms started ringing, saying she should extinguish the flame before it got out of hand. She quickly went into one of the showers, with all her clothes on and turned on the faucet.
When the water hit her, steamed went all over the shower. Her entire body got drenched, and she could feel her hand become stiff and then loosen. She turned off the water and looked off her hand. The skin was charred and slowly going back to its normal state. She moved and because she was still wearing her shoes, she fell on her butt.
"Ah," she screamed and kicked the wall in aggravation. She looked back at her hand and somehow was angry that it looked normal. It wasn't burned anymore. She tried to concentrate and the second time (or fourth) she could feel the pulsing inside of her but her hand was still the same. She prodded it and felt nothing change.
"Why aren't you burning? Why... Dummy," she whispered, smacking her forehead. "Water and fire don't mix. I need to dry off..."
She carefully got up from the floor and clumsily started wringing the water out of her clothes. Clara traced her fingers over her knees, that were clean, no signs of redness. Another good thing that had come out of her experiment. Despite her angry outburst, Clara was satisfied with what happened. She wasn't sure she was completely human and she was befuddled how she didn't mind at all but at the same time felt some fear of not being like the rest.
The irony of the whole thing, where all her life, Clara wanted to be special, unique when all the time she was surrounded by children who were misfortune as her. And when she finally was granted her wish, Clara wanted to be like everybody else.
When she was satisfied at how dry she was, Clara stepped out of the shower and left the bathroom. The hall was packed with a few girls, who gave her strange looks as she headed to her room.
"Looks like she finally cracked," one of the girls, Josie whispered to her friends. They all giggled and nodded in agreement. For Clara, it sounded like she was shouting in her ear.
Despite the best option being was to pretend that she didn't hear anything and continue walking, Clara stopped in front of them. They looked startled and watched her wearily.
"What do you want?" Josie sneered, her thin lips curled up in a mean smile.
"You know..." Clara chuckled and wagged her finger at the girl's face, "At least I'm not the one whose defiling in the confession with an eighteen-year-old. But hey, better crazy than a whore."
Josie's eyes widened in horror and gaped at her. Clara didn't bother to see the other girls reactions and walked away, going to her room. Clara slammed the door shut and made a frustrated scream, hitting the door.
"Clara! Oh my God! Where the—w-what do you look like that?"
She frowned and turned around to see Caitlin, sitting on her bed and staring at her in bewilderment. Clara hadn't realized that she wasn't alone. She should have heard Caitlin, she was a heavy breather.
"Did I tell you what Sister Rosemary told me earlier in the morning?" Clara said to her, trying to discard her wet clothes off as she went to her bed.
"No, you haven't because the entire day you have been avoiding me but I don't care about that right now. All I want to know is why are you wet?" Caitlin frowned.
"I took a shower."
"With all of your clothes?" Clara didn't like the look of concern that Caitlin had. She looked at her like a parent would look at a kid running with scissors.
"Is there a problem with that?" She crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows.
Caitlin blinked, taken aback by her defensive reaction. She cleared her throat and shifted nervously. "Well, it's ideal to take a shower without clothes and you are practical, so..."
"Well, it's also ideal for someone to express themselves without having them complain about them," Clara snapped and turned her back to Caitlin. She angrily kicked off her shoes and started peeling off her socks that were sticking to her skin.
"What? What are you talking about?" Caitlin laughed nervously. Clara grabbed a pair of clothes from her dresser and changed quickly.
"Someone complained about my behavior. Finding it unpleasant and making them feel unsafe." Clara scoffed, running her fingers through her tangled, wet hair. She walked to Caitlin's bed and sat down at the foot of it.
"Was that it?"
"No, of course not," Clara said in a tone that should have been obvious. "Also, that I need to rethink of my actions and that I should pray this verse. If only praying helped, I would know, I've read the entire freaking bible the past few weeks and nothing. I still need to 'improve yourself and only will be able to when you think of the Lord's word.' She said more but I was praying for her to stop talking."
"Really? That's bad," Caitlin said. There was an edge in her voice, that caught Clara's attention. She closed her eyes at the sound of a heartbeat that she shouldn't be hearing.
"That's not even the worse part. I had to go on my knees and pray for almost an hour. She made me miss breakfast and the first hour of school. My knees were bright red when I was done. I had to go through all of that because someone had to be a five-year-old and complain about my behavior." And Clara wasn't even going to talk about what happened with Ms. Miller, or else she would become more frustrated.
"Who would do that?"
That's not right... Clara tilted her head as the thudding noise grew bigger and faster as each second passed. Clara frowned, bemused. She had grown familiar with heart beats and they normally had a set rhythm. The only time it would change was when someone was moving a lot or they were not telling the truth.
"Oh my—Damn it. Why can't I catch a stupid break? I've tried to pray, just like Sister Karen said and then forgive—ugh!" Clara struggled to take off her wet clothes that were stuck in her skin but finally managed to take off her shirt. She slumped down the floor and buried her face in her hands. "Who would do that?"
"I don't know."
Clara heard another loud heart skip. "She wouldn't tell me but I think I know who it is," Clara said.
Another one. "Who?"
"Ron," Clara said grimly and she could hear Caitlin exhaled.
"Wow, are you sure?"
Thump. Skip. Thump. Skip. Something's wrong.
"It has to be him," Clara reasoned. "I was having a bad day yesterday and he showed up and I was aggressive. He must have taken it the wrong way. That's the only logical explanation. I can't believe it. I thought he was my friend. And he does that?"
Clara looked at Caitlin carefully and listened to her heartbeat. It was palpitating fast, and it wasn't the only thing. Clara could swear she could her blood pressure skyrocket. And what she had been experiencing, she was most definitely, hearing the vibration of blood coursing through her veins.
Please be the schizophrenia.
"But I know I'm not schizophrenic," Clara said under her breath.
"What was that?"
"Say it again," Clara said instead. "Repeat what you said. About Ron being a jerk. Say it to my face." I want to know if you are lying.
"Ron's a jerk?"
Clara stared at Caitlin, who was fidgeting and avoiding her gaze. She didn't stop staring her and then Caitlin blurted out, "Fine, it wasn't Ron. It was me." She gasped in shock and her hands flew to her mouth. "I'm sorry. I-I really am."
Deep inside, Clara already know it was her but that didn't stop her from feeling shocked by her confession. "Why would you do that?"
Caitlin stumbled on her words to justify her betrayal. "You've been acting strange and I got worried and I thought it was best to have someone to do something about you."
"No, you didn't have to do that."
"I was worried. I'm your best friend," she argued.
"Exactly," Clara snapped and in a calmer voice added, "You're my best friend, why would you throw me to the wolves? Now, everybody thinks I'm crazy. You know were crazy people, especially women end up? In asylums with lobotomies. I'm not even thirteen yet!"
"Y-you were scaring me," Caitlin argued. "And Naomi and May and a lot of other people. I had no clue that you were doing and then I found out you got into a fight with Naomi, which is what made me realize that something was wrong. I had to help you. You weren't helping yourself."
"You don't know that," Clara interrupted her. "Like you said, you didn't know what was going on. And then we worked our problems out. We both apologized to each other. We talked, just like how you should have done it. Say it to my face instead of going to get Sister Karen and complain about my behavior."
"I got desperate and had to find a way to help," Caitlin repeated.
"I have the right to get angry. To be frustrated. To be distant. To be want to yell and scream and kick. Why don't you understand that?"
"I know you do. But this isn't normal. You're always calm and not aggressive. But the last days, if anybody says anything to you and you lose it."
She wanted to argue. To say that she was wrong. That she had been acting normal. That Caitlin was overreacting. But Caitlin was right but Clara wanted to be right too.
"I am not crazy—I am just—I'm just—" Clara trailed off, unable to find words to describe herself. "I'm just having a phase, alright?" she said finally. "Caitlin we've been friends since I got here. You should give me at least some credit and trust me when I say that I'm fine."
Caitlin stared at her and then nodded slowly. Clara relaxed her shoulder and smiled at her, appreciating her.
"Are—are you sure?" Caitlin asked tentatively. "I mean, I trust you but still..."
"Of course. Come on Caitlin. It's me we're talking about." She scoffed and pulled the roots of her hair. "I'm Clara Welsh, there's always something wrong with me. I'll be fine, I'm always fine," she said the last few words more to herself.
"Do you want a hug?" Caitlin offered.
"No, don't touch me." Clara shook her head. Because if Caitlin hugged her, she would burst into tears, the ones where her shoulder would shake as she took uncontrollable sobs and her nose would become runny. And Caitlin would hug her so tightly it would feel like her lungs were getting crushed as Clara's face would be buried in her friend's shoulder, Caitlin's curly hair poking her eyes.
"Well, it's okay. I'm here," Caitlin said to Clara. "I understand."
No, you won't, Clara thought bitterly. She didn't understand and probably never would. Maybe Clara was taking the whole thing out of proportion, but deep down she knew that she was probably not even seeing the graveness of the situation.
"I'm here for you," Caitlin continued in a reassuring manner, giving her a wide smile that showed her overbite. "Remember what Sister Rosemary says; there's always a silver lining."
"Silver lining," Clara repeated. "My silver lining is somewhere in between all this chaos."
"There's a silver lining in your phase. It's really windy outside, so let's just sit down and just sit." She guided Clara to her bed and both girls sat down in the tiny bed, side by side. Caitlin rested her head on Clara's shoulder, giving her the comfort that she could.
It's going to be okay. Just ignore everything. And focus on the bright side, the silver lining. I might not be normal but I'm different.
"I'm going to take a shower," Caitlin said.
Clara hummed in acknowledgment and continued playing with the edges of the blanket from her bed.
"May and Naomi are downstairs in case you need anything."
"I won't need them. I'm appeased right now. See?" She gave her a faux smile.
Caitlin looked unconvinced but didn't argue with her. "Fine. See you later." She walked out of the room and shut the door gently behind her.
Clara dropped her smile, rubbing her cheeks, still sore from the pinches she has earned from Nurse, and buried her face in her drawn-up legs. She hummed the same tune that she heard in her dream, and despite the dream morbid, the tune relaxed. It had something familiar about, and whenever she heard of it, she would think of her mother. Perhaps when she was a baby, her mother would sing it to her as a lullaby when she wouldn't go to sleep.
Clara getting a cramp on one of her legs, withdrew her legs and moved around. She heard a thumping noise when she pulled her covers. She glanced at the floor and saw that a book had fallen from the bed. She frowned and bend down to pick it up. Dusting off the dirt of the front cover, Clara remembered it was the one she borrowed from the teacher.
She furrowed her brows as she saw the front cover picture. It was of lava, burning red, with some flames in the background. It had a combination of colors, black, orange and red. Something of the picture kept bothering Clara. It was eerily familiar. Like she had seen it before.
But Clara was being silly. Of course, she had seen that image before. Ms. Miller had shown the picture in school. And she also saw it in the bathroom when—
"Holy shit," Clara said, throwing the book front of her as if it was actual lava, her mouth dropping open and her eyes widening in realization. "My hand."
And the story continues. This chapter, explained more of Clara's mutation, which shows that it's not fire, something else.
Like I said before, thank you for everything (the reviews, follows and favorites), it really keeps me going. Although my birthday was two days ago, it would still be great to get reviews as a late birthday present.
Any errors, I will look over and fix them.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the X-Men franchise or the comics. I only own my OC's and any original ideas.
Saskia: I'm so glad you liked this chapter and want to read more. And it makes me feel warm that you sympathize with Clara, she is going through a lot (but don't worry about her friends). I smiled too at Clara's awkwardness with Karen.
Guest: Unfortunately, Erik and Charles won't appear until later, more than a few chapters actually, but a well known character will appear soon.