You would think having a summer break would mean more time to write but it turns out that no, I can't write that much. I started college early and, as I've heard, it's so time-consuming. And when I have time, my brain is so fried that I don't even when to think about trying to form a sentence.
But anyways, sorry for the rant, I just wanted to write down my frustrations of not having time to write something fun. But going back to the story, I'm so thrilled that you guys seemed to enjoy Sean appearance and hopefully you'll enjoy the others as they start appearing (maybe even in this chapter... maybe, we'll see).
Warning, there's going to be various time jumps in this chapter to move along the story, so hopefully it doesn't bother you.
Happy reading :)
Chapter Five: Down Spiral
"In our extreme youth, in our most humiliating sorrow, we think we are alone. When we are older we find that others have suffered too."
― Suzanne Moarny
April 1956
Clara knew that she finally had screwed up.
And there had been many moments in her life when she had said that sentence, "I've screwed up," and thought nothing would be able to top it.
When she broke the kitchen dishes. When she dropped ink on her only blouse. When she lost her cross and 'borrowed' Naomi's in the meantime. When she got her braid tangled in a fence. When she accidentally dropped soup on Sister Rosemary. When she burned down the kitchen isle. When she ripped a page on Sister Karen's bible.
But this time, she was wrong. Nothing would top this screw up.
Like the other times, it wasn't on purpose. It just happened, just like most things happened in her life. Unexpected and, most definitely, unwanted. She had grown accustomed for strange occurrences with herself. Always expecting the unexpected them but that day, she was just not prepared.
She had gone outside to drop off the garbage when she heard a faint beating of a heart. She would have ignored it but the squeaking noise was what made her look over the bushes. On the floor was a bird with a broken wing and it was helplessly flapping around. She was just going to pick it up and place back into its nest. That's when it happened.
Necromancy. The devil's work, a voice hissed to Clara, who might have accidentally brought a bird back to life.
It sounded crazy, as most of all things that have happened in her life but that one topped it. Yes, she might have committed a very bad deed that for sure get her to hell. That wasn't the worst part, why she was in a panicked state.
It's what happened afterward. When she started coughing up blood, feeling like her lungs were about to explode. She could see the birds fluttering, regaining its strength while she was losing hers. But she couldn't stop, she stayed there until the bird finally was able to flap his wings and fly into the cloudless sky.
That's when she collapsed to the floor and started crying. Hot tears blurred her vision, and she tried to wipe them but her entire body was drained and still felt pain radiating all over. Slowly the pain started disappearing. She felt hollow inside like she had lost a part of herself when she was helping the innocent bird.
She stayed there until May went out to look for her. She couldn't come up with anything to validate her state but May come up with her to conclusions and she went with them, not caring what they thought about her anymore. They thought she was losing her mind, that she was a religious nut.
She had really screwed up that day.
Not only had she set in stone her place in hell, she also missed her thirteenth birthday dinner.
May 1956
"Shit!"
"Language."
Caitlin had left a blood stain on Clara's bed sheets when she had gotten a paper cut. Clara could have helped her, make the cut disappear but she just watched from her bed as she rushed out of the room to get a bandage and insulted her at the same time.
"No running on the hall," Clara yelled out and laughed, throwing herself in the bad. She did felt bad for doing nothing when she could have. But she shouldn't, that was her rule.
"Boys aren't supposed to be upstairs. Go away!" Clara heard Rosie shriek too loud for her liking. She covered her ears but it didn't drown her high pitch voice. "Go away, Ron!"
Clara raised her head and watched Rosie try to slam the door shut but someone was stopping her.
"You're not even changing, why are you yelling? And the rules is that I'm not allowed in the rooms," Clara heard Ron argue. "Sister Rosemary gave me permission to go here and get you to go downstairs."
"Ron! Go away! No boys allowed!" Rosie practically whined.
"Shut up, Rosie," Ron snapped. "And get your ass downstairs."
Clara snorted which earned her a scornful look from the girl. "Go," she whispered to her. "He's not going to leave."
"Fine then. I'll go!" Rosie huffed and stormed out of the room, shoving Ron to the side.
"Thank you for your participation," Ron yelled at her and under his breath added, "you dumb blonde."
Clara covered her mouth, not sure if she wanted to laugh or gasp. She reluctantly stood up from the bed and went out of the room. Even though she wasn't particularly hungry, missing dinner was not an option.
"Clara, hey!"
She grunted when she slammed into a body that had appeared out nowhere.
"Oops, sorry, sorry," Ron muffled voice said to her neck. She pulled away quickly, trying not to rub her neck in disgust. Clara was an inch taller than him which was saying something. He was one of the taller boys from her grade. She smoothed her clothes and tried to look casual, ignoring their painful bump.
"Well, look at that, Ron what are you doing here?"
"Unless your deaf which you're not with those bat ears you've got, you should've heard Rosie's winning."
"I did hear but did you hear her? No boys allowed upstairs, that's the rule. Go away, Ron," she teased, shooing him away. He looked at her in exasperation, not finding her funny.
"In case you didn't hear me, I'm here because it's time for dinner and half of the girls aren't going downstairs to eat," he yelled out and more than one head stuck out of the room. "Get your butts downstairs!"
"They're not going downstairs until Sister Karen comes upstairs and pulls them by their braids."
"Well, don't say I didn't try and you're going to be a witness if Sister Karen comes charging at me with her bible. Not that it's the first time that would happen," he muttered darkly the last part.
"I remember, I was inside with fever while you were outside running for your life. But don't worry, you did your job. So don't worry, I'll still protect you. Come on, let's go," Clara said and tugged on his hand and he obliged.
As they walked down the long hall, she noticed that he walked too closely to her, his hands brushing her walked hand every time he moved it and glanced at him. He was already looking at her and shot her a grin and without asking permission, grabbed her hand. She didn't try hard to hide her smile.
Ron and she had an interesting relationship. They've always been friendly with each, ever since he moved to Saint Elena's five years ago. He always teased her and give her at times his cookies. She would listen to him talk and talk about everything that caught his attention. She did admit to her friends one night, that she found Ron to be pretty cute but that was it. She didn't really know what he thought about her.
She did find out on her birthday. Ron had given Clara her first kiss and she was thrilled. And ever since then, they were in a strange place. Caitlin and May teased her merciless, singing about sitting on a tree and spelling out words. She wanted to say there was no sitting on trees and K-I-S-S-I-N-G but knew that they would ignore her and go on with their wild fantasies.
They were friends that held hands at times when they would sit down for Sunday mass and would kiss his cheek in the morning. It was good enough for her, she never looked for more.
When they reached downstairs, she reluctantly let go of his hand. Ron gave her a small smile and both went to take their usual seats on the table. May was already there and talking to one of the girls. She gave her a quick grin but the girl who was talking to her, look at her in distaste and got up from the table.
"Ignore her, Clara," May said soothingly and rubbed her arm. "Cathy is having a bad day."
"I wasn't even paying attention," Clara lied and sat down. May was obviously lying because it seemed that most of the girls were always having a bad day when she was around.
"Clara not paying attention? Shocking," Caitlin voice joined them and sat down next to her. Clara looked at her wearily and threw her napkin in front of her.
"I'm going to wash up," Clara announced and abruptly stood up.
"Wait, hold on, it was a joke—"
She ignore Caitlin and headed down the hall. From behind her she could hear arguing between her two friends and focused on her breathing, to avoid a headache forming. She took her time in the bathroom and when she was turning the faucet off, Clara heard a loud noise of glass breaking. Drying her hands, she stepped out of the restroom and saw Sean on the floor picking up shards of glass.
Of course it's Sean, she thought. He was muttering to himself and dumping the shards of glass into a vase on the table next to him, obviously trying to get rid of the incident. She sighed and walked up to him. "Broke something again?"
"What the—damn, Clara." Sean looked up at her and flinch when she saw her. Clara had to bite down, to stop herself from smiling. Sean tended to avoid her, mostly because whenever they ran into each other he was trying to hide his messes and she would cover for him.
His first incident, the cabinet, no one found out it was him but then the other incident happened and that's when the nuns caught on that it was him. As Clara promised him, they didn't punish him but they did make him clean up his mess.
Turns out, Sean was quite a clutz, always breaking things. Especially glass, that was his specialty. His nickname was Slippery Sean, the boy who always broke something. He didn't seem to care about the name, joking with them even but he always got really nervous whenever they would ask him about everything he broke.
He was an odd boy but she didn't bother. He was a boy, all of them had something strange in them.
"Need help?" she offered and he shook his head.
"I'm fine, I just need to clean this up," he muttered. "Need a few minutes."
The bell rang, indicating that dinner was about to start in a one minute. Sean sighed and picked up his pace to get rid of the evidence of his newest mistake.
"I'll tell the nuns that you had a stomach ache," she said and stepped over the glass, heading back to the dining.
"Thanks. I'll cover for you next time."
She stilled for a second and then continued on, pretending she didn't hear him say that. When she took a seat, they had started the prayers. Clara earned a dirty look from Sister Karen and she smiled guiltily.
"Amen," everybody said in unison. Everybody burst into chatter and the sound of forks scraping plates rang around the small room. Clara's eyes drifted to the empty seat that Sean usually occupied. He sat next to Ron who grinned at her when their eyes connected.
She had failed to notice that Caitlin had been talking her ear off. It seemed that she was talking about Sean and their small encounter in the morning. Caitlin still was infatuated with him but unfortunately, it looked like Sean didn't reciprocate her feelings. Clara had the feeling that he didn't even know who Caitlin was.
"And, I think it went fine? I mean, right? Oh jeez, I hope I didn't scare him off," rambled Caitlin.
"No, you didn't," Clara offered, pretending to listen to her best friend small problems. She didn't mind. Anything mundane in her life was welcomed. She desperately needed normalcy. That's the only way she would make it alive.
June 1956
Clara had run all the way to school to make it in on time. She didn't have a chance to talk to her friends or with Ms. Miller. But when class ended, she stayed in her desk, waiting for a chance to talk to her teacher.
For the past month, Clara had gotten close to Ms. Miller. She had found out that her first name was Mary. She liked it. It was short and sweet. She also learned that she was born in Texas but moved around all her life, living a nomad life. Her parents were living in New York and hadn't seen them in almost a year. Her job has made it difficult to see her family and that was hard for her.
The more Clara spent time with Ms. Miller, the more she noticed strange things from her teacher. Clara considered herself smart. Not like the nuns, age wise or book wise, like the teachers, but people's smart. She could always read them well. Know when they're happy, stressed, preoccupied or when they were lying.
She was especially good when it came to people lying. She knew Caitlin lied about forgetting her homework. Or when May lied about not having been crying in the middle of the night. Or when one of the boys would lie about breaking the furniture. Or that Ms. Miller was blatantly lying to her, which was often.
In the beginning, Clara hadn't noticed but then she started seeing how jumpy Ms. Miller would get at the time, how she often would slip up in their conversation and then divert it quickly. After seeing the truth, Clara couldn't ignore all the obvious signs.
Clara felt like she had a big secret like her. She wanted to ask her what if she was. Ms. Miller could trust her, just like she did. She trusted her enough to tell her about her strange recurring dream. The one with the mud, the children, her mother, the loneliness. According to the teacher, dreams that repeat themselves are a way to tell you something from her past.
Clara didn't like that. Especially when Ms. Miller said that the dream could be related to her dead parents. That didn't make any sense. They died when she was one, there was nothing about them that she remembered. She had no pictures of them, they couldn't find them. It was a miracle they managed to find out what her name was.
The only thing she did knew about them was that they were immigrants from Europe, meaning they had no immediate family in the States and they died in a car crash. The only survivor was her, the tiny child that came out unscathed. Clara wanted to see her birth certificate but Sister Karen snapped at her and never tried to ask for it again.
Ms. Miller had nodded sympathetically at her and then she lied to her. Words came out and her heart started beating faster, something Clara had learned that happened when people lied.
Being short tempered, Clara had spoken up and stayed she had to go and rushed out of the room.
She felt bad for leaving her all of sudden but finding out that she was lying to her. Her emotions had gotten the best of her and she started feeling herself burning up.
Ms. Miller, sensing that something went wrong had tried to make amends to her and offered to help her out. She had a friend that worked in a diner and they were looking for someone to help out in the afternoons. Clara, who had mentioned that she wished to buy better clothes, was thrilled which had led to her early in the morning to ask Sister Karen for permission to work.
It had been an awkward ordeal the entire conversation.
"Can I get a job?" Clara had asked, balling her hands to her side to stop herself from fiddling with her shirt nervously. She was relieved that there was a table to hide how white her knuckles were.
Sister Karen had stared at her, scrutinizing her expression. "Why do you want one, Clara?"
She nodded, the answer already in her head and spoke, making sure to be careful how she said things and not come off as rude. "I want to do something. I want to have some money and be able to buy a new sweater. I appreciate what you give me, I will always be in your debt for everything you've given me," she said, nothing but sincere. "But I also know that you and Sister Rosemary have to worry about the others, especially the younger ones. I don't want to burden you with my weight when I can do it myself."
Karen stared at Clara, her expression not changing. It didn't unnerve Clara, she was accustomed to Karen's long stares. She didn't want to get ahead of herself but she had a feeling that she was going to get the job. She didn't just want to work to take away the pressure of the nuns to be her things but she wanted to distract herself, not having to think about all the things she's done.
"Thank you, Clara," Karen finally spoke up. Clara straightened and tried to ignore the slight panic she felt. "Always thinking about others, that's a good Catholic. I'm very proud of you."
She smiled at her. "Thank you. That's all I want. To be good."
"And you are," Karen said. "You can the job. But it will not interfere with your school. The moment I see that you're slipping, you resign. Understand, Clara?"
She beamed and wanted to hug Karen but refrained herself. The nun seemed to not like physical contact. She nodded tightly, trying to hide an excited squeal. When she got out of the room, Sister Rosemary was outside, grinning.
"See Clara? If you let things go as the Lord allows, you will be surprise how things go your way," she said, guessing that she was allowed to work.
"Thank you, thank you." Clara threw herself to the nun and hugged her tightly. Rosemary, unlike Karen, loved hugging the children. She had no problem being affectionate with them and made sure to know that they all meant the world to her. Clara tended to keep to herself but she loved when people would hug her or hold her. She always craved the human touch but had to control herself. Today, all of that self control went out the window.
"It's not a problem, sweetie," Rosemary said, smoothing the back of Clara's hair and letting her go. She bopped the young girl's nose and pushed her gently. "Now run along, you have to go to school."
Five hours had passed since her conversation with Sister Karen and Clara was still was giddy about it. The idea of her having money to be able to buy a warmer sweater made her want to start working at the moment.
"What's going on Clara?" Ms. Miller said, getting up from her desk and taking a seat in the desk across from hers.
"I can get a job," Clara announced. "I asked the nuns and they said yes as long as I meet their requirements but of course I will."
"That's great," Ms. Miller exclaimed, grinning widely.
"So can you talk to your friend?" she asked eagerly, clasping her hands in front of her. Ms. Miller had promised her to talk to her friend, who was the manager of a small diner that was near the school, and see if they could get her a job.
"Yes I can," Ms, Miller nodded. She glanced at the window, seeing that it was getting dark. "I'll take you home, I'm about to leave."
Clara shook her head and gave her a smile. "No, you don't have to worry about that. The nuns don't let us actually walk alone. One of the boys from Saint Elena's is waiting for me."
"If you say so, then alright," Ms. Miller smiled at her. "Have a nice day and I'm incredibly happy that you can work. You deserve it, Clara."
"Thank you. And don't worry, I will," she said and giving her one last smile, she turned around and left.
"Hey, Clara," Ron said and ran up to her. She smiled warmly and waited for him. Ron was out of breath when he reached her. "Ready to go back to Saint Elena's? I'm starving."
"Sure, let me just—no," Clara groaned, rifling frantically through her bad. She threw her head back, frustrated and started walking backward. "I forgot my book at school. I have to go back and get it. I need it, I can't not have it."
"I'll go with you," Ron offered, already going with her but she waved him off.
"No, it's fine. It will be super quick. You can head out without me."
Ron looked at her as if she was out of her mind. "No, I can't leave you alone, Clara. That's the rule. If I show up without you, the Sisters will skin me. I mean they won't but they might crucify me."
She smiled but didn't stop walking. "Don't worry, Ron. I'll be fine. I'll be quick, I'm not going to get hurt."
"No, I don't like it," he grunted and stomped frustrated. "I can get into trouble. Sister Karen is terrifying."
To assure him, she leaned in a gave him a peck in the mouth. He became flushed and stammered. "Th-that's not fair, Clara. I still don't want you to be alone. It's going to be dark and—"
"I'll be quick. Okay? Yeah, great. Bye, Ron. See you later." She grinned and waved at him slyly before turning around jogged back to the school.
"Don't take long! I mean it, Clara!" She could hear Ron yelling at her. She smiled and while she was jogging, her mind didn't focus on the noise that was coming from the parking lot. The sound of a car hitting a body, screeching car tires and the sound of human spitting blood.
Later on, when they found her under a tree covered in blood, her eyes bloodshed and the inside of her broken permanently, she wondered what could have gone differently. A part of her wished that she had listened to Ron and not gone back to school. The other part of her wished that she should have not listened to him and gone sooner to the school.
July 1956
She felt a wave of exhaustion but didn't want to go to sleep. Sleeping wasn't that important anymore. She didn't have school, one thing not to worry about. Sleeping was an option that moment. It was also hard for her to sleep. She tended to avoid it. Every time she closed her eyes, she would see Ms. Miller's dead body.
She gripped her hand, trying in vain to take everything away. She could feel it. Everything changing. She could almost feel Ms. Miller heartbeat picking up. She was so close but Clara also felt like she was dying.
That's the terrifying part. That was the part that made her let go and run away like a coward.
Maybe she could have saved her. But she would never find out. She had let Ms. Miller die. And the worst thing of the entire situation was that she didn't glance back.
Her eyes flew open and she slowly let loose of her grip on the sheets. She looked to her right and saw that time, she didn't wake up her roommates. They were peacefully sleeping, having no worries at the moment.
"Oh, no," she whispered in horror when she heard a familiar noise. Quickly, she sat up from the bed and got out, staring at the burning sheets in frustration. Hesitating for a second, she reached out and placed her hands where the fire was.
It stung, almost like being pricked by a needle, but the pain would go away instantly. She could feel the fire going through her skin, almost becoming part of her.
She wiped her hands on her legs and quietly slipped out of the room, going to the bathroom. When she reached it, she turned on the light and inspected the damage. Her hands had burned but they were already healing. The only thing left were the ashes on her nightgown.
Feeling tired, Clara leaned against the cool, tile wall and slid to the floor. She pulled her feet up to her chest and rested her chin on them, heaving a sigh. Since Ms. Miller's death, Clara had avoided using her problem—no matter how much time has passed, she always called it that, having no other words to describe it. Seeing what she was capable of doing, it scared her.
She thought it was fascinating in the beginning. Terrifying but it was something amazing that she couldn't ignore it. Yet, every time she used it, all she could feel was the guilt that overwhelmed her. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to relax her body, not wanting to have to lose another nightgown.
As she could feel herself drift off to sleep, despite her uncomfortable position, her mind wouldn't stop attacking her.
It was your fault. You are to blame and nobody else. It was your fault.
August 1956
She saw Caitlin outside and for a brief second contemplated going to her. To just sit down and hear the latest gossip of a tabloid she read in the convenience store in secret. But as quickly at the idea came to her, she shoved the idea to the side, knowing that wouldn't happen in the moment, as much as she wished for it. The girls weren't on the best term currently. Caitlin was mad at Clara. Clara was mad at Caitlin. One for shunning her, for not wanting to talk about Ms. Miller death. And the other for not understanding the desperate need to share what was wrong with her life.
Apparently, it was Caitlin's duty as a best friend to help them cope with difficult situations but Clara didn't see it. She didn't want to talk to Caitlin about what happened that day because she wouldn't understand. Not even she understood. Couldn't Caitlin understand that Clara wasn't in the position to share what was going on.
Because of their small fallout, which apparently was her fault (it was not), May and Rosie preferred to be with Caitlin. That angered Clara and made her destroy two tables and her only sweater. After a few days of anger and resentment, when she was taking a cold shower, it showed that they only talked to her because of Caitlin, she always knew that they didn't really want to be her friends. And in another wave of anguish, the water started boiling and the faucet broke from the shower.
Her anger always caused her two destroy things, which was a new development. Especially for someone who once was beaten for accidentally breaking a plate and didn't feel any spite towards them and stupidly forgave them, any small comment that would sound wrong to Clara would make her lose her temper. Which would result in something going to flames. And she would get in trouble by the nuns, if she was caught, which was most times. She would hear them late at night, whispering about her.
"... severe problems..."
"... an arsonist.."
"... special help..."
"... maybe we should speak to her. She should know..."
If she would look at her silver lining, it was great that the children of the orphanage were avoiding her. No one would get hurt, except her. She always got hurt, ever since she was a child. The car accident, Saint Thomas, and now her.
She tried to make the situation by not rocking the boat. It was a shame really, even if she was causing problems, Clara felt like she was learning more about her problem.
Every time she would use it, her skin would burn off. It was a disgusting sight, her flesh would be bright red and bubble up. But then it would get engulf by the flames, getting replace with something almost pretty. Each time she would feel less pain. Whether it was because she was getting used to the pain or started to enjoy it, she didn't know.
September 1956
There was gum in her skirt.
And some in her hair too. At least that's what she hoped that sticky substance was when she went under the table to scrape off the gunk. She huffed in annoyance, wiping her sweaty hair out of her forehead, and crawled out backward. She got up and wiping all the dirt of her uniform.
She threw a dirty look at her manager, Steve, who was forced her to clean under the tables in the middle of a rush instead when it was closing time.
"No, not today," she muttered and had to stop her urge to smack those smug faces of the three that were in a table. She wasn't a violent person, she didn't like it but she didn't have that morality that moment.
Clara was in a foul mood that day because in the previous night she hadn't been able to go to sleep. She hated that dream, it was so loud and repetitive. It wasn't the one when she was stuck in that rainy, muddy camp. It was the one that made her cry at night and want to throw things against the wall.
When she went for her Friday afternoon shift, Clara had been ordered by her moody manager to scrape off all the gunk off the tables. That usually was left for the waitress who came in last but because Clara has been not at her best, she was given the honor to do it in the middle of the day, where everybody could see her.
After getting weird substances on her and banging her head more than once, she then started serving tables, which is where her patience started wearing off.
The diner was loud as usual but it wasn't because it was packed, it was still early for the afternoon rush. It was loud because of Jonathan, Sean, and Ron. The annoying friends. The unbreakable trio. Almost like how Clara, May, and Cailtin. Except they were annoying.
Clara hated when they came during her shifts. They always came to her section, just to annoy her. They probably hope to get free pie or milkshakes but she has made it clear every time they showed up that she wasn't going to play favorites. She had a job that she wanted to keep. Especially since she recently got upgraded to a waitress.
"Hey, Clara!" Ron said, giving her a guilty smile. She tried to smile, knowing that he didn't mean harm. "Did you know it's my birthday today?"
"Oh, oh—hold on, doesn't this diner give free pie on someone's birthday?" Johnathan said, raising his eyebrow suggestively.
"It's not your birthday, Ron," she said in a sickeningly sweet voice, "so shut your mouth or else I'm going to shove a bible down your throat to make you repent your lies and never do it again."
Sean made weird squeaking noise and immediately clamped his mouth shut, looking horrified. He glanced around the room frantically and seemed to relax when nobody was looking at him.
"Jeez, Sean. What's with the noise? Haven't gone through puberty?" Johnathan taunted, his eyes glinting with malice. It was not a secret that Johnathan hated him. He didn't like sharing Ron. That was the thing about being an orphan it made them greedy with the things that they had, they became territorial.
"Johnathan," Clara warned him.
"No, it's fine. But no—I mean yes. It's just nothing, uh, hungry," Sean said quickly and started making weird noises. "Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom."
He pushed Ron to get up and slid out of the booth, bolting to the bathroom. Clara watched him slam his body into somebody but that didn't stop him from running. She glanced at the other two boys and looked at them. If they kept it up, she was going to lose her job. So going under the tables would have been for nothing.
"We are starving actually," Ron said. "Can we get some cokes? Oh, and some fries and burgers. Oh, right, and some pie."
"Hold on, we can't order like that. We need menus. Where are they? That is being a bad waitress, Clara, for not being prepared. We can complain to your manager. Get us some menus."
"Are you serious?" She gritted her teeth, ready to smack them, not caring if she got fired. She hated this stupid job anyway. She didn't even know why she tried.
Ding.
The bell that rang every time someone opened the diner door, which made Clara's head snap instinctively. She didn't get a chance to see who it was because the boys were calling her. Johnathan was whistling to grab her attention. She reluctantly broke her gaze from and wished that she was not working that afternoon.
"What do you want?" she snapped.
"We want our food and you're not getting it. Ron, say something to Clara. Control her because I just can't with her."
"John," Ron snapped, his pulse quickening. He was angry and so was she.
"I'll be back with the menus and you dim wits better not cause any trouble or else I will shove that rubber pie down your shorts," she said shortly and turned around.
"What is wrong with you?" Ron was hissing to Johnathan when he thought Clara was earshot but she could hear them very clearly.
"What? It's not my fault that you were with her and didn't know she was crazy. I'm not surprised that the nuns haven't hauled her off to the nuthouse. She belongs there," Johnathan said.
"She's not crazy. Stop saying that."
"Whatever you say but face it, she is. One of these, she's going to be there. I already heard Sister Karen talking about it with Sister Rosemary."
"You're lying," Ron said, but didn't sound too convinced.
"Nope. They're worried about her 'mental state' and pray for her every day. I say they should throw her with the loony's."
Clara gripped her pad tightly, feeling a pain shoot through her body. Her free hand went up to touch her small cross in comfort.
I'm not going to a nuthouse, she thought fiercely and continued walking. Practically ripping the menus from the cashier who handed them to her, she turned around and threw them carelessly to the boy's table. Sean had already joined them and gave her a quick thanks.
"Order up, quickly."
"Jeez, Clara. Take it easy. Let's take a second to order."
She glanced furtively over her shoulder, hoping one of the other waitresses would take pity for her and instead, she saw that he was waiting idly in his booth, waiting for his usual order; black coffee with apple pie.
Clara completely forgot about Ron laughing like a maniac, Sean making those squawking noise and Johnathan throwing straws at everybody who passed them. She couldn't stop staring at him.
She didn't know how long he had been coming to the diner but it wasn't long. Maybe two or three weeks. He didn't come every day in the beginning but this week, he had been showing up every day in the afternoon.
She never would admit it, but she would look forward to him to show up. He was a middle-aged man, his age was hazy for her. Something was off about him, he didn't belong in a rundown diner ordering black coffee and apple pie. He never came to her section, always getting the corner booth that was next to a window.
She had to admit the reason she was obsessed with the man was because she knew he always looked at her. She couldn't prove it but she knew. Maybe it was an extra sense that she had developed along with her other problems.
"Clara?"
She flinched when she felt something hit her face. She finally broke her gaze and looked back at the boys on the table in front of her. They had thrown a straw. She sighed in irritation and place her hands on her hips.
"If you order something you better pay for it," she warned them, remembering the last time they didn't have enough money for their food. She had been forced to pay the rest from her tips. Johnathan smirked, despite doing stupid things, didn't miss her staring at him.
"Who's that? New boyfriend? Left Ron for a real man?" he teased. Clara wanted to argue that Ron hadn't been her boyfriend in months but it wasn't his business. It actually was no one fucking business what she did or why she did it. Couldn't people understand that and not judge and hate her?
"Seriously, Clara? Why? He's so old. And look at Ron. He's not a looker but he's young," Johnathan continued. The man hadn't looked up from his coffee, not noticing that there was more than one pair of eyes on him.
Ron, who hadn't been paying attention, head snapped up and looked from Johnathan and Clara. "What? Who you talking about?"
"Nobody," she gritted her teeth, feeling hot rage go through her veins. She exhaled through her nose, willing herself to calm down or else she was going to explode. "Are you going to order or what? I don't have all day."
Seeing her expression, the boys quickly gave her their orders, the same exact food they had said previously. She scribbled their orders down almost viciously and when she walked away from them, she didn't miss the opportunity to accidentally smack Ron Johnathan with her pad. Sean was too far from her reach.
Clara wasn't a fan of violence, but if blood wasn't shed, she would not consider it violence.
"Sorry about them," she heard him whisper so quietly, that if she didn't have sensitive hearing, she wouldn't have heard him. She shrugged.
"Table twelve is ready," the cook yelled out, making her hurry up to serve her other table.
"Oh, by the way, Claire," Steve said, stopping her. She pressed her lips tightly, refraining from snapping that wasn't her name. "There's broken glass in the men's room. Go clean it up when you have a chance."
"But it's the men's room," she said in disbelief. "I'm a girl. A very young girl."
Steve shrugged, basically saying it wasn't his problem, and walked away, yelling at another waitress.
"Unbelievable," she muttered and continued on. Not being able to help herself, when Clara went to the other side of the counter, she glanced at the man and she knew that he had been looking at her. Clara may be crazy but she wasn't paranoid.
The next day, she had a hard time hiding her yawns which earned her a scornful look from her manager. She shot him an apologetic smile and hurried off to attend the customers. She had fallen asleep on the bathroom floor again (it was starting to become a routine) and was woken up when one of the girls took an early shower.
Clara almost crashed with one of the waitresses that were caring a platter of food when she saw him. He wasn't supposed to be there. It was too early, it was morning. But he was there, in the same booth as always except he didn't have anything on his table. She glanced around the diner and saw Darla, the waitress who always served him.
"Hey, Darla," Clara said, trying to sound cheerful when she approached her. "Can I―?"
"Oh, honey," Darla gushed, looking relieved to see her. Without asking, she handed Clara two plates full of food. Clara grimaced at the unexpected weight and had to stop herself from stumbling. "Give me a hand with these dishes. I am swamped, seems like everybody wants to be in my section."
"I can help you with some of your tables if you want then. I can get that one over there," she offered, jerking her head where the man was all alone.
"No, no, it's fine. Just pass these plates around to table five and eight, that would be great. Now scoot, lots to do and not much help. Come on, Claire."
"It's Clara," she grumbled.
"But Claire is much nicer name. Those nuns and their sacrilegious names," Darla tsked and scampered off.
Clara pursed her lips, annoyed at how blatantly rude and ignorant Darla's comments were at times. Reluctantly, she did as she was told and served the food to their designated tables. When she looked back to the table of the man, he was gone. There was nothing on his table which meant he ordered nothing.
Her curiosity taking the best of her, Clara was about to check outside the window when her body crashed with Darla's, who at the moment had been caring a trait of hot soup and spilled all over Clara.
She was going to get it. And she did by her manager. He yelled at her in the kitchens that she had been distracted lately and kept messing up, that did not impress him. She had to beg him to not fire her on the spot.
That's how she found herself, alone in the diner at night, cleaning all the tables. She was scrubbing a weird looking sticky substance in the table from a far corner, making her want to yell in frustration when it refused to come off.
"Come on," she gritted and threw the rag on the table. She sighed and run her fingers through her hair in frustration. She leaned in against the table, focusing on the buzzing noise of the machines from the kitchen.
Despite the diner being silent, it was loud. Everything could be heard. And outside the noise was even worse. She tilted her head and gripped the table tighter, hearing noise coming from outside. She squinted and could make out two body's outside. She was only sure because she could hear their heartbeat.
She watched the person stand there speaking to someone, a man she guessed. She concentrated what they were saying but couldn't make out what they were saying. There were too many noises, she still couldn't drown all the noises. It took too much effort and after a long, draining day, she was lucky to be able to hear them from where she was.
The person outside suddenly glanced to the diner and Clara knew that he was looking at her. She didn't look away, afraid that if she looked away and back to them, the man would be there inside the diner. She could feel her heart beat picking up and her grip on the table becoming deadly, losing feeling in her fingers.
The man was the one to look away first and Clara forgetting about everything, took the opportunity to leave, not caring if she didn't finish. She grabbed her coat and quickly slipped out of the diner by the back door, not looking back once.
Maybe next day it would be different.
They were seated in a car, parked two blocks from the Charming diner. It was middle of the afternoon and from their place, they had a great view of what was going on inside. They went to the diner almost every day for the past week, to the great annoyance for the woman.
"Are there more? Or just her?" the woman asked, bored out of her mind and glanced at the man next to her with utter resentment. The man ignored her heated stared and shrugged.
"Even if there was more, I don't want them. I want her."
"How did you find her?"
"I wasn't looking. I just found her, stumbled would be the right word."
"You don't like diner food."
"I was thirsty by I'm glad I went inside. Poor child," he said but didn't sound sympathetic. "Forced to work at a young age. And then the orphanage. It's ugly where she lives in. And terrible clothes she has."
"That's called being an orphan," she said flatly.
"Yet, somehow, she's happy." He hummed, drumming his fingers against the wheel thoughtfully. To be honest, he was slightly impressed at how she manage to turn a horrible life that she had into something happy.
She truly was something special but that wasn't what he cared about. It actually worked in his favor that she was an orphan. He saw what she could and that was without any guidance. Imagine what she would be capable of when she was pushed to the right direction.
Clara Welsh would be his prized trophy. It was no secret he liked shiny things, glancing at his beautiful companion.
She, on the other hand, did not look pleased, at all. They were wasting their time with a child. For God sake, the child had nothing in her chest. She could pass as a boy if it weren't for the long hair and the skirts that she wore.
"Isn't she young? She just turned thirteen, that's basically a baby."
"I know. That's why she should be with us. She has no idea what she can do. And if someone else found out they would kill her. I saw what she can do. It's very useful. Almost like yours but not quite."
He tapped her head and the woman bristled, not happy that she was being compared to a naive child.
"Can we really afford to take her? We're not charity. That's what her orphanage is for. To pick up the unwanted."
"And we can't afford to lose her," the man assured her, waving her worries off. "We need her."
"You seem to know a lot about her," the woman said, looking at him suspiciously. "How long have you kept tabs on her?"
"Don't worry, I got her file and, trust me, I found very useful information from her. She'll do what she's told."
The woman looked at him suspiciously but didn't question him. She's learned from a long time ago that he always knew what he was doing.
"She's noble," the woman admired begrudgingly. Having observed her the last few days, she had picked up on Clara's personality. She was friendly, devoted but kept her distance, almost like she was hiding a secret. She smirked, almost finding it amusing. "She's naive which works in our favor. And desperate, so she'll listen."
"Of course, she will. She's desperate to know what is happening with her. And all alone, no one wants to talk to her."
"But how do we get close to her? She's either in school or orphanage or that job of hers. She's never alone. Except now, there's practically nobody in the diner. Hold on, we're not ambushing her right now, are we?"
"Of course not," the man dismissed her. "Don't worry your pretty head about that. I already have a plan. By the end of the week, she'll be by our side."
"What if she doesn't want to? Do we force her?" She felt pity for the child, knowing that if she dared to against them, she would not have it easy. She hoped, for the girl's sake, that she was smart and picked carefully.
"We don't hurt our own," he reminded her, making the woman huff in annoyance.
"But she's not our own."
"No, she is," he disagreed, his eyes never leaving Clara. She was passing the orders to the customers and giving them a wide, genuine smile. She was such a pretty girl, he noted and broke his gaze to glance at her birth certificate. The golden ticket to get her to join them.
"But you're right, she not one of us. Not yet. If you excuse me, I'm off to get a cup of coffee. Would you like some?"
So, who could that be (but you should know, I was a little too obvious, haha)? Does Clara have a stalker? Next chapter (hopefully, we never know with my creativity) is going to be the last of the fifties before we go to a more familiar decade and I think you're going to like what's gonna happen. Some familiar faces for sure are going to show up next chapter and after that and that and, well, you get the point.
Thanks for everything, it means a lot how much people seem interested in my slow story but it will pick up, like next chapter. Anyways, if there are any errors, like always, I'll look it over and fix it.
Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men or anything Marvel, just my ideas.
Saskia: Well, happy birthday, hope you enjoy it. And like always, thank you for reviewing. I'm glad you like Sean and the background I gave him, he was interesting to write. I wanted more of him in the movies but unfortunately, we didn't get much, so my imagination will have to do. And Ms. Miller is a strange one, isn't she? That's cool you're studying physics, so I'm glad you liked me putting some physics in the story. Thank you for the awesome feedback, like always :)
Katniss: Thank you so much, I'm so glad you think this story is amazing and that you find Clara's mutation intriguing. And well, this chapter you got to see how Sean's and Clara's relationship is. But don't worry, Sean is definitely going to impact Clara, maybe not now but... ;)