4Chapter 1
It is dark, unclear. No, I think I'm not describing it quite right. I am seeing flashes of silhouettes. So many figures… They jump in and out of my vision like I am witnessing lightning striking the ground right in front of me in the dark of night over and over and over again. It hurts my eyes, and for some reason, my head. I feel as if someone is pounding on my brain, trying to get something in. I rub my eyes, but the flashes do not stop even with my closed eyes. Trees, people, trees, people… They appear and disappear so fast, almost melting together. But I never miss the distinction. And soon, I can see that the seemingly infinite amount of people is only four. One dead, one dying, one confused, and one sad. I don't know how I can tell from just white faceless figures. I just know…
"Clara, dear? It's time to get up for school."
I open my eyes slowly. I have a terrible habit of waking up facing the window. The sun does not like me in the morning. When my vision has cleared, I see my cupboard, and smile. Today would be a good day.
"Clara."
I quickly turn over onto my back and push myself up. "Good morning, mom. How was your sleep?"
My mother smiles, shaking her head. She has her hair tied up, as if she is ready to leave the house. Her coat hangs around her left arm, while her right hand rests on the railing of the stairs. "Very nice, thank you. I've prepared some oats for you. It's sitting on the stove. Please do heat it up before you eat." She starts to put on her coat. "I have to go to work early today."
I jump out of my bed towards her and give her a hug. "Have a good day. And be safe. Will you be back for dinner?"
My mother laughs, and begins to head downstairs. "You mean will I be back in time to prepare dinner? No, I don't think so. You'll have to find a way to make your own."
"Can I invite Elle over then?" I call out loudly as I hear the door open.
"Just make sure she knows what she's in for, Clara," she shouts back. "Love you!"
The door closes. I head to the mirror hanging over my dresser. I frown. My long, dark brown hair looks so dishevelled I'm surprised my mother did not make fun of it. I start brushing it back ferociously. My mother may be kind enough to hold back, but Brendan certainly wouldn't.
I am already in my seat, notebook and pen on table, just as the class teacher begins to call out names for attendance. She takes the names of those still coming through the door first before addressing those already seated.
"Gabrielle Delta."
"Present."
"Timothy San."
"Here."
"Karen–"
I stop listening to him. I was one of the first ones in the room and I made sure that he noticed me. That way he will note my attendance down without having to call out my name. And I can get in a small conversation before class began. I shift slightly in my desk to face Elle. I wait while she takes out her notebook and pen from her bag. Again, she looks so...proper. Her shoulder-length black hair is nicely settled. Her dark blue jeans and grey shirt are without signs of creases. Even her bag looks smooth. I think of my jeans found from under my bed and my white shirt dug out from under a pile of other clothes tightly fitted into one drawer, and I immediately force myself to look at her face.
"Hello, Clara," she says, one side of her mouth slightly lifted as if she is trying to restrain a smile. "You look as cheerful as ever. Had a good sleep?"
"As always," I reply. I am lying, I do not want to worry her with unimportant matters. Unfortunately, my best friend has an uncanny knack of knowing when I'm not telling the truth. I think of something to add to distract her. "Having the upper floor all to myself, though door-less, has a nice, open comfort to it."
"I know the feeling." She shifts back to sit properly in her chair, facing the board. The teacher stops calling for attendance.
"Clara..."
She looks at me, one eyebrow lifted. "What?"
I shake my head. I should learn to think before I speak. "He's going to give us a surprise test," I whisper, jerking my head towards the teacher.
Her brows furrow. "But we're just a few days into a new topic. I didn't think to prepare this early."
I shrug. "I don't know. But it doesn't look good."
She leans towards me, obviously worried. Elle is one of the brightest students in the school. Anything lower than a ninety-five percent distresses her. She opens her mouth to say something, but the teacher beats her to it.
"All right, class. We'll begin now. Before we continue with the current topic, I have your test downloads from last week and I have to say, I'm really disappointed with most of your results." He goes over to his desk. "I will return your respective tests now and we will spend an hour reviewing what troubled you most."
Elle covers her face with both hands, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. I can feel a blush coming up. Ok, so this is one of the most embarrassing mornings. It does not mean that today still can't be a good day.
Elle turns to me, smiling quite widely now. "Oh, Clara. Hardly a day goes by when you don't say, or see, something exciting."
Yes, I should learn to think before I speak.
It is lunch break, and Elle and I are leaning against our tree in the park on school grounds, which also serves as the open-air canteen. As such, there are many other students nearby, talking and eating. But at least they understand that this tree is ours. Well, I like to call it ours. Elle, Michael, Brendan and I have been meeting up under this tree for so long the others just find it normal to sit elsewhere. It's not as if we tell them it's our territory. We just happen to be there first all the time. Well, Elle and I. The boys have a tendency to be later.
"Theta equals x bar over three."
"Got the same, good. Now where is my calculator?"
"Twenty-seven point eight three."
Elle, the walking calculator. I write down the answer to the easy first part of a very long mathematical question regarding density functions and estimators and hypothesis testings and a whole lot more from our Statistics topic. Elle looks over at me, having just taken a mouthful of her sandwich. Her action is very obvious. Elle doesn't do things without a reason. And she doesn't talk with her mouth full. Hence, she would not be looking at me if she didn't want to say something. I sigh. "Yes, it's lunchtime. I should be eating. But this is due tomorrow, and I think I should get a head start seeing as it really is a long one. The computer simulations will definitely take up more time later."
She swallows, and gives me that all too well-known look of amusement. "You forgot to bring your lunch again."
I feign anger at her accusation. "I did not! Mom left early again and I..."
"Here." She takes both my book and pen out of my hands and replaces my right hand with her sandwich. "You really should learn how to cook. That way, if you run out of bread, at least you can bring a soup or a salad or something for lunch."
"What about you?" I object.
She waves her hand. "I'll just steal some of Brendan's. He usually brings a large portion of whatever it is will be his lunch. I just hope it will have some greens, at least."
"Well then, you're in luck."
I look up to see Brendan sitting down next to Elle, a container in one hand. He kisses her gently first before opening his container and offering her his fork for the first bite. "Green salad with a bit of the crispy stuff."
"Almost perfect," she says, and kisses him again.
"Hello, Clara."
I lift my head up to my left. His dark brown hair is slightly tousled, probably because he just came from a physical education class. But I like it that way. It just makes him look less perfect, suitable for someone like me. Michael sits down and leans in to kiss my cheek. Unlike the other two, we very much prefer less public shows of affection.
"How was your day?" I ask conversationally.
He grins at a memory. "It was soccer today in P.E.. Brendan fell many, many times. If only you'd seen it, it was painfully funny."
I playfully nudge him at his side. "You obviously went fine."
"Yes," Brendan interrupts, "and he was obviously a fine friend during class as well."
I mock being horrified. "You did not laugh at his carelessness!"
"Michael!" Elle joins in. "I am appalled. It's not Brendan's fault he's so careless."
"That's it!" Brendan exclaims, taking the fork from her. "I'm not sharing. You can starve for the next five minutes."
Michael suddenly turns serious. He leans forward to get a better look at Elle. "Speaking of potentially fatal feats, did you hear about the latest death last night?"
Brendan takes a bite of his salad and automatically aims the handle of his fork for Elle's taking. "Another one? This disease sure is getting around fast. Eight deaths in three weeks now."
I nod my head. "My mom left for work early this morning. But she didn't say anything."
"She probably just doesn't want to worry you, Clara. Since the deaths started, everyone's been quite anxious," Elle says.
"Worry me?" I glare at her. "Elle, this disease seems to only target people like you. It comes out of nowhere. It can kill you overnight. How can you be so casual about this?"
She hands Brendan back his fork. "There is nothing I can do about it," she replies adamantly, running her hand through her hair. Though, I think I hear something else in her voice. Frustration? Confusion? "Really, what do you expect me to do? Worry myself into depression and lock myself in my house?"
"Elle..." Brendan sounds concerned. "Clara was just worried about you. We all are. You know that, don't you?"
She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. Then she looks at me, and smile. "I'll be fine. Let's just not talk about this disease anymore, ok? It really kills…the conversation."
The way Elle phrased that last sentence caused us all to keep our mouth closed. I'm sure none of us can help but recall the event of two years ago. That event which brought the word 'kill' into our dictionary. Elle was the centre of that event. It changed her.
I sigh, and start nibbling at Elle's sandwich. Elle has never said it out loud, but sometimes, I feel like she doesn't believe that the disease exists. Though she may be one of the most easy-going persons in this world, the fact of the deaths is there. Whether it is the disease or not, people like her are dying. But she is also one of the most stubborn. When her mind is made up, it's hard to change it. Her being usually right doesn't help things either. But in a population of twelve-hundred-odd, it won't be long before that disease proves her wrong. Unless Sanctuary does something about it. Fast.