I walk out of seventh period in a daze. My thoughts are scattered everywhere as I try to think about what to do to beat the fool who somehow has the same IQ score as I do. It must have been a fluke. I fidget with one of the many rings on my index finger as I board the bus full of cocky idiots.  I crack open my Trigonometry book and work out about ten problems before the bus driver Joe halts to a screeching stop and lets me get off of the malodorous bus. I murmur a quick “thank you” as I walk down the steep black rubber steps. My platform boots hit the gravel as the bus speeds farther down the road; Joe’s country twang blaring. I walk into my house and find my mother Lana sitting at the table trying (oh, so hard) to do her taxes; her glasses sliding bit by bit down her nose as she puts her hands up in defeat. I sit across from her setting my textbook on the table; my book bag quietly rests at my feet as I reach across the table and take my mother’s hand. She pushes her impossibly straight honey blond hair out of her tear stained eyes as she slowly slides the paperwork towards me. I grin.  I always love extra work to keep me busy. Seeing as I have completed all of my homework for this week and the next, I don’t really have much to do. My mom smiles proudly at me.

“I really don’t know where you got your intelligence from DeeDee.” She says rubbing the back of my hand. I look down at the paper laid before me. This is going to be a piece of cake. And it was.

My mother and I have always had a trusting relationship seeing as my dad left when I was a baby. It has always been me and Lana, Lana and me. The only thing that I don’t talk to her about is when I get say for example an –A on a test or as of today having my rank as top of the class challenged by some boy who literally came out of nowhere. Let me explain. So here I am sitting in seventh period Trigonometry (even though I have A’s in all subjects this one is particularly my favorite.) Then here comes this new boy sauntering in the room like he owns the place and plopping down right next to me asking me all sorts of questions. I didn’t answer him of course just told him to shut up…but that only egged him on. And he somehow finished his assignment! I lie down in bed gazing up at the glow in the dark stars that have been on my ceiling since I was six years old. Thinking about him only increases my anger so I distract myself; looking around the room and finding objects to translate from English to Latin and then to French. It works for about five minutes and then I am right back to mentally venting again. Despite my bad mood and my exhaustion, I switch on the gray lamp by my bedside and get the Chemistry book that rests on the oak wood nightstand. I know the only thing that will put my mind at ease is if I beat him the only way to do that is to study harder. I throw the blanket off of my lap and walk over to my desk planning on pulling an all-nighter…I am not one to go down easily. 

I dozed off around three am…so much for not going down easily. I get dressed quickly and once again get on the bus that I loathe. I murmur a quick good morning to Joe and then choose an empty seat. I open one of the many textbooks on my lap and start to read. The words swim across the page into a blur, I close the book loudly and relish the few seconds of astonished silence. It quickly stops and then the mixture of Country music and noisy teens fill my ears. I close my eyes and lean my head back on the seat trying incredibly hard to tune them out and finally I do. 

I open my eyes, to see Hugo Alavander staring at me. I cringe; trying to scoot as far away from him as the small seat allows. I feel my face getting warm and I wonder why, I normally am not one to care what other people think…but I cannot help but wonder if he heard me snore. 

“I was about to wake you up we are almost at school.” He says, with a sheepish expression on his face. I nod, leaning my head against the window. I count the cars that go by. Five red, two blue, seven silver, six- 

“Look DeeDee- “I scowl at the nickname. 

“It’s Aberdeen.” I snap at him. I mean sure I am being a jerk to somebody who seems nice but he is my competition and I can’t risk having a distraction like a friend. I look out of the window again avoiding his glance. 

“I don’t know what I did but whatever it is I’m sorry.” I look at him clearly confused. 

“I mean you don’t seem to be very fond of me and I mean I guess that I was wondering could we maybe be friends.” He offers me his hand to shake but I ignore it. 

“I don’t have friends.” I snap trying to sound as much of a jerk as possible. I look at him hoping to see that I shut him down but he plasters a grin on his face and continues to talk. Gosh, he is absolutely impossible.

“Maybe I can be your first friend.” I roll my eyes at the cheesiness of what he just said and then for a split second I actually consider being his friend and not isolating myself.  And then I realize how stupid that would be. 

“Look, Hugo you seem like a very nice gent but I am not looking for any distractions from my studies.” He seems to understand. And I feel triumphant seeing as he doesn’t talk for the next five minutes. And then he ruins the glorious feeling with his voice. 

“It bugs you doesn’t it? My IQ score. You seem like the competitive type…maybe I can help you study or something.” A small smile forms on his face he probably thinks that he is getting somewhere. And as much as I hate to admit it, he might be getting through to me. I shake my head as if to clear the silly possibility from my mind. 

“No.” 

“Oh, come on. Just give me a chance.” Joe pulls up to the school and kids stand up in the middle of the aisle. The bus comes to a stop completed with the deafening screech of the rusty brakes. I stand up and so does Hugo. I glare at him impatiently waiting for him to move out of my way. 

“Look I will give you time to think about it…if you decide that you want to, meet me at the fountain after seventh.” He moves after that and I step off of the bus dumbfounded. 

I end up letting my guard down. I yawn as I sit down on the concrete ledge of the fountain. I am still super worn out from last night.  I open my beloved Trigonometry book and start to study. I get through about eleven pages before I close it and look around to see if I can find him. A group of freshman girls chatting and giggling, golden leaves falling from a tall, over towering maple tree, a fountain with beautiful clear blue water spurting out of it…no Hugo. I open my Chemistry book and try to shake off the feeling that he set me up. A few minutes go by and I am tired of waiting I close my Chemistry book and shove it into my book bag. I stand up and turn around. Hugo and I are face to face. I take a minute to study him noticing how the sun really makes his pale jade eyes stand out. The sunlight rests on his curly mass of russet brown hair making it look a shade lighter than it really is. He waves a hand in front of my face and I remember that I am supposed to be mad not mesmerized. 

“What took you so long? I spent a good twenty minutes waiting for your sorry butt to come and study with me.” I start to walk away but his voice stops me. 

“I’m sorry okay…I got stopped on the way.” 

“For twenty minutes?” He looks down and doesn’t answer for a while.

“Look it was really…I don’t know it was weird.” I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest.

“I’m sure it was. I can’t believe that I actually waited.” And with that I walk towards my house and don’t look back. 

Hugo doesn’t sit with me today or even get on the bus at all. I can’t help but wonder why. I watch as the trees zoom past all a brown and green blur. I feel the two texts books lying on my lap like two heavy weights. I should be studying right now. I tried to read the words but all my mind could think about was stupid Hugo. I get off of the bus and make it to first period without seeing him in the halls. Seventh period rolls around quickly and I am called to the office. The room seems to blur together as I stand up, feeling quite queasy. A chorus of whispers fills my ears as I grab my stuff and walk out of the classroom.  

The Principal’s office is covered in cat merchandise. Framed photographs, small tapestries, and a knitted blanket. But that is not what stands out to me most it is the sophisticated woman that sits before me. She looks as if she should be working in The White House not wasting her time at some lousy school. 

“Aberdeen Martin. First off you are not in trouble of any kind.” I sigh with relief.

“I have been looking at your grades and my goodness you have had perfect grades and attendance since kindergarten.”  I nod my head feeling a little prouder than I should. 

“Yes Ma’am.” 

“Well Miss. Martin I have noticed that another classmate.” She stops looks down at a piece of paper in front of her and continues. 

“Hugo Alavander has been found to have the exact same IQ score as you do same flawless attendance and grades.” I nod not sure where this could lead to. 

“I am guessing you would like to regain the position as top of the class, yes?” I shift in my chair uncomfortably. I fidget with one of the rings on my finger.

“Yes Ma’am, I would.” I try to arrange my face to look emotionless but it is hard to keep the shock away from my expression 

“Well what if I told you that we have a…solution to that?” 

“I’m listening.” She smiles a forced smile. 

“There is this new…medication we’ll call it. And we need it to be tested. We saw that you are incredibly intelligent and we were wondering if you would be one of the first to try it. As far as we are concerned it is one hundred percent safe. This new medication is called “Anti lasssitudinem” which is Latin for- “I cut her off, and finish what she was saying.

“Exhaustion” I say and instantly regretting speaking over her. She nods.

“This injection/pill will allow you to stay up for a week without getting exhausted so you can maybe…catch up on your studies.” I smile and immediately know that I am going to agree. I mean it is one hundred safe, right? And it would be amazing to beat Hugo and be known for being one of the first ones to try a new “medication”. I nod.

“Well there is one catch. You have to record everything that you see, hear, feel, or think every day for three weeks on your Commutative notebook.” I nod again feeling a little less ecstatic now that people are going to have to know my thoughts. 

“You can just send the recording to me, Dr. Rothchild. Also, I would like to meet you at my office tomorrow after school so we can give you your injection and daily pills.” She stands up and offers me her hand. I hesitate before returning the gesture. And I guess that seals the deal. Little did I know that I was making a deal with the devil. 

“Checkmate.” I say grinning as Michael puts his hands up in defeat. He pulls at the collar of his plaid shirt which looks incredibly itchy. 

“Come on, Hugh! That is like your third one in a row!” I grin with pride. I am extremely competitive; especially in Chess. A loud beep sounds from my ancient Luminex watch. I feel my face grow warm as the reality of why the timer went off sinks in. 

“I’ve gotta go Mikey; but I’ll see you tomorrow.” Michael crosses his arms over his chest and I can feel his eyes on my back as he watches me leave. 

I knock on the apartment door and my father answers. He smiles a warm smile and continues to linger in the doorway making me anxious. Has he found out? I plaster the same expression on my face and try to play it cool. 

“Your home early.” 

“Yeah…” I swallow nervously. And with that he moves aside and lets me come in. I rush upstairs and fling open the door to my room. I check my watch. Exactly 30 seconds until my next pill needs to be taken. I rush to the kitchen to fill a glass with water. I rush back up the stairs; water sloshing from side to side in the glass. I pick up the tiny blue pill and pop it in my mouth as if it were some type of candy. I cringe at the fowl taste of the tablet on my tongue. I swallow it quickly. I feel the rush immediately, before the pill even hits my stomach. I get out my Commutative notebook and start to write.

11/16/48

This is the most bizarre and risky experiment I have ever done. I can feel the effects of the pill before it even gets through my digestive system. Describing the feeling is almost verbally impossible. But I will attempt to write it. I feel like…I can take on the world, wait that is kind of corny. I guess I feel like I am my younger self; like I can run a marathon and still have energy. It is quite a peculiar experience; not sleeping. I use the time to study and think. You told me to record my thoughts and feelings. So here goes…well since taking the injection and medication my thought process has changed quite a bit. I am thinking more rapidly in school. I am thinking out problems in so many different ways than before. I am thinking about new strategies in Chess and I am thinking about how amazing it is to be a part of this experiment. 

I hit send. Okay so sure I left out quite a bit. But how would they react if I told them that ever since I have taken the pill my thoughts about a girl are increasing. I blush at the thought. I quickly cap the bottle for the pills and hide them in my dresser. My parents can’t know that I agreed to such a thing. They would kill me to know that I participated in such a perilous activity. 

I plop down beside Aberdeen; the small gray seat moans in protest. She doesn’t even look away from the window I think that she is still upset. I take a minute to study her.  Her short glossy brown hair is pulled up into its usual ponytail. She has her arms crossed over her chest. Her navy-blue fingernails are digging into her arm making tiny half circles. She turns around and rolls her eyes. Her fingernails release her arm and they leave tiny droplets of blood pooling around the wound. I wince at the sight of the crimson on her snow-white skin. 

“What do you want?” She asks sounding irritated. I smile. I feel as if I am finally getting to her… 

“I want another chance,” I say. Her honey brown eyes seem to bore into my soul as she just stares at me. 

“You never quit do you?” I feel my grin expanding.

“Why no, I do not.” She scowls and goes back to the window. Huh, she is being more of a jerk than usual. Although as much as she wants it to it doesn’t faze me it actually kind of makes me worry about her. She stays silent for a while. She narrows her eyes watching the trees as they fly past in a green blur. I can tell that something is troubling her. I can feel the confidence bubbling up inside of me as I put my hand over hers. She shoots me a look that tells me I better have a good explanation. What surprises me though is that she doesn’t jerk her hand away like I thought that she would.  

“Are you…alright?” She doesn’t respond lost in her thoughts once again. I think about interlacing her fingers with mine but quickly remind myself that would probably get me murdered and this isn’t even my own confidence…this is just the effect that the pills have on me. Don’t be stupid, Hugo. I steal another glance at Aberdeen but she catches me. She looks down at our hands and snatches hers back, her face is flushed. 

“When you got stopped the other day…on your way to study with me…who stopped you?” I look at her, she senses that I am taken aback and she doesn’t take pride in it. In fact she continues to ask me more bizarre questions. I fumble for answers seeing as Dr.Rothchild told me not to tell anybody about anything that happened that day.  I take a minute to decide whether or not to tell her. I decide to change the subject.

“Are you ready for the test on Tuesday?” I ask her. She stares at me, searching my face. I shift a little uncomfortably  

“You’re perkier than usual; you have no Periorbital dark circles under your eyes so that means that you are not sleep deprived like normal. Peculiar. Very peculiar indeed.” She talks like I am not even sitting beside her. Her hand rests under her chin as she continues to analyze my face. 

“You’re a weird one,” I mutter. She rolls her eyes and I know that she is back. But something is different. It’s something that I saw in her eyes that makes me terrified even if it was for a split second. She knows about everything.

I wrap my lips around the white and red straw leaving a hint of lip-gloss on the plastic as I pull away. This would have to be my third …. Okay I am lying … my fifth, cherry flavored Sprite that I have had in a matter of twenty minutes. 

“Celine!? … Could you please get off of your butt and help us out there?  We are swamped.” I nod and slowly get up; cradling my enormous swollen belly. This is not what I wanted for myself. If it weren’t for this “setback” I would have been taking Collage classes by now on my way to earning my Batcheler’s degree and one step closer to achieving my dream of becoming a neurosurgeon. But instead I am working at a fast food restaurant with a growing baby in my belly. Not at all a part of the plan. 

I pull on my drab apron and walk out to the register. Our jobs rotate every day because we barley have enough staff to fill all of the positions. Yesterday I was at the grill today I am at the register.  I hate both but it pays the bills. I smile as I feel my baby move. I haven’t come up with any names yet. To be honest I have never even been to an ultrasound but I can picture my baby. She is perfect (Of course I am only assuming that the baby will be a girl.) curly black hair like her mother and amber eyes like her father. Of course, she will never meet her father. I would never trust him around this baby. Around my baby.

 A customer comes up; I smile the sweetest smile that I can muster. He smiles back. He looks to be about twenty-one or so. I study him while he places his order. He is pretty fine but to my dismay I spot a wedding band on his finger. My face falls as I recite his order to him. You are not looking for a guy not now and not ever. The voice in my head scolds me. I refocus and try not to fall asleep while I continue on with my shift.

Bzzzzzz. 

I sigh loudly as I get up to go answer the call. I press down on the button to the intercom.

“Who is it?” I say, my words laced with what the kids that I grew up with called a “street accent.” Of course, I have learned to speak properly; I have changed a lot. The thirteen-year-old me would have called somebody “Whack” if they told her how her sixteen-year-old self behaves.

 No response from the other end. I hear a loud knock at my door and flinch. Calm down, it’s not Keith it can’t be. I take a deep breath and open the creaky door. To my surprise, it is a woman she looks to be in her early twenties. Her blond hair is tied up into a tight bun and her clothing looks like she took a long time ironing it. No wrinkles or dog hair. Just perfection. I gulp immediately feeling intimidated by her and her flawless appearance. 

“Celine Fitzpatrick. Hello, I am Dr. Rothchild.” 

The grenades tear into the lofty buildings, causing them to crumble down into ruble at the feet of my black boots. “Run!” I want to yell at Clarity but the word doesn’t come out. I run a hand through my dark hair in frustration as I stand petrified. 

It’s my fault that we are in this mess. If I hadn’t insisted that we move farther North… A scream rings out from behind me and I watch as Clarity pulls a long piece of glass out of her left arm. Tears fill her bright eyes and crimson stains her palms as she throws the blood-streaked piece of glass to the ground. I rush over to her and rip off the bottom of my shirt. I wrap it around the wound and tie it tight. Clarity winces. 

I grab her hand and we run as pieces of the tall structures fall down all around us. Suddenly, I hear heavy footsteps behind us. I turn around and sure enough it is the patrols. They reach us quickly. 

They tear Clarity and I apart. I reach for her; I fight the soldiers with all my might but it is useless. Another explosion rings out in the distance. Flames surround the building; radiant red, blue, and orange memorize me but also send a shiver of horror down my spine. 

Clarity is being cuffed and dragged away. Her face is ghost pale and her eyes terror-stricken. Tears sting my eyes; blurring my vision. A sharp pain stabs my chest at the sight of my best friend being loaded into a truck and taken away. I will never see her again. And then the world explodes. 

I bolt up from my bed. Sweat pours down from my face. I have been having nightmares like this for about a week now. All of them include Clarity. Man do I miss her. She was the only family that I had but she’s gone. I figure that she’s dead or working with the rebels. That is my best bet. If she is with the rebels at least she is safe from the government’s clutches. Me on the other hand I get to go to their high school. But luckily I am not in trouble with the law…not anymore.

 I shake my head clearing away the horrid memories of the past. But Clarity still lingers. I roll my eyes. She has always been stubborn. I pull on my fleece jacket and go to the only place where I can think. 

I sit down on the ledge of the roof and pull my jacket tighter around me. It must be at least 24 degrees out here. I take pleasure in the fresh air though; it helps me to clear my head. I gaze at the stars. Clarity is the one who got me interested in constellations. We used to lay on our backs in the dark alleyway and I would point out a constellation Clarity would tell me what it was. She wasn’t an orphan like I was, at least not at first. 

She actually went to Junior high and got through 7th grade and some of 8th. Then her mother died of a rare case of infuenza. And then the same monster took her father. She stayed in school for a few months after that, scrounging up enough money to pay for rent and education. And then one day she ran out. She stopped going to school and she was kicked out of her house. It took her a long time to tell me all of that… she didn’t trust me for a while. But somehow, I finally got through to her. 

“Chicago, what are you doing up there?” I jump startled by Kamilla’s voice. I look down and see her standing on the porch looking up at me. I roll my eyes of course she knew that I would be up here. 

“Just getting some fresh air.” I say standing up. 

“It’s a school night.” She says. Even from here I can see the irritated expression on her face. 

“Yeah, yeah.” I step off of the roof and swing into my open window. I don’t get a lick of sleep. 

Kamilla’s loud voice fills the tiny room as she yells at me to get up. I get dressed quickly in a simple black t-shirt and jeans. I rush down the stairs and decline the breakfast that Kamilla offers me. I step outside and breathe in the refreshing morning breeze. I watch as the bus zooms down the road at an unsafe speed. Joe is probably driving. One of the reasons that I stopped riding the bus (this is going to sound ridiculous) was because it went to fast…it reminded me of memories that I choose to keep locked up. So, I walk the two miles to school. I have gotten used to the strain in my legs and the protests of my feet. 

I smile. Something good is going to happen today. As soon as the thought enters my mind, my face falls. Since when have I been an optimist? I finally get to school and enter my homeroom. Mr. Barnaby is sitting down at his desk. His bushy eyebrows cover half of his eyes and his short gray hair is tangled he doesn’t look that intimidating. But take my word for it…do not get on his bad side. 

I notice an empty desk right next to me. My eyes grown wide at the reality of it. Caspian, he’s gone. My eyesight is hindered by on coming tears. He was my best friend. He must have failed the test. The government aims for perfection. If that’s not what they get then why should they waste their time? They will dispose of you and replace you. We aren’t considered humans we are simply lab rats and if we don’t calculate the right results, they will get rid of us. Memories of Caspian come flooding back. When we first met, when he punched a kid for making fun of me, when his mother died and I was there for him, and finally all those nights that we stayed up talking and studying. My hands form into a fist. How could they do this? To a kid? We live in a sick and twisted world, full of devious people who will stop at nothing to get- 

“Class we have a new student joining us.” I look up, expecting to loathe whoever it is that is replacing Caspian. I run a hand through my dark hair; willing it to get out of my eyes.

 Black lace-up boots, denim blue jeans, and a buttercup yellow wool sweater. Big bright blue eyes, and long silky wavy red hair that used to be kept short. Clarity’s eyes bore into mine as I take her in. She is taller than she used to be stands at about 5’5, her hair is much longer, and her eyes have lost their twinkle. She is not dead or with the rebels, she like me is now in the clutches of the government. I can’t tell if I like that idea or not. 

“Class this is Claire Viola.” I cock an eyebrow at the nickname. She has changed. She looks more like a… woman and not like a small teenage girl. But that isn’t the only thing that’s different. Clarity swiftly walks over to the vacant desk and plops down beside me. Her face is emotionless as she listens to the teacher’s instructions. 

“Clarity,” I whisper. She turns her head and looks at me. I study her for a moment. A sheen of gloss covers her pink lips, freckles dot the bridge of her nose, her bright blue eyes search mine in a hesitant way. Then she looks away and shakes her head. I feel my face grow warm. Why is she so…guarded? The way that she looks at me as if I am a stranger. Does she remember me? She must, she has to remember me. 

“Clarity,” I whisper again, this is all so surreal. She looks at me again with that same expression in her eyes. 

“Chandler, I- “She shakes her head again and for a split second, I see a flicker of sadness cross her breathtaking face. But she quickly masks it. This isn’t the Clarity that I know. I am going to find out what happened. 

I could remember nothing at first. Nope, nothing. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Then piece by piece my memories came back to me. It was little things at first...things that didn’t quite make sense. 

Broken test tubes; green liquid oozing onto the white tile floor, a harsh scolding from a young woman in a lab coat, a boy with dark hair and intense eyes making a tourniquet for my bleeding arm. Holding a dying child; the pain of guilt building up in my chest making it unbearable to breathe. 

Random memories that didn’t seem to correspond with each other. And then they started coming together. 

My gloved hands pour green liquid into the fragile test beakers. So many thoughts are swirling around in my mind. I am still giddy with joy that I was the one that Dr.Rothchild chose to conduct this experiment. And then my arm bumps into a test beaker causing the clear glass to shatter onto the cold tiled floor and I know that I have made a huge mistake. 

Dr. Rothchild tearing me down as I pick up the broken glass. I wasn’t listening, of course, meanwhile my mind traveled elsewhere; to Chandler, then a stinging slap across my face snapped me back to my reality. 

Chandler making a tourniquet out of his worn-out gray shirt for my arm.  Which had been impaled by a large shard of glass; his extreme brown eyes boring into my own. 

When the puzzle pieces of my lost past fell into place, I felt guilty and stupid and I couldn’t forgive myself for what I did. I willingly volunteered to do. The memory of the dying boy was the hardest to endure. I screamed at the top of my lungs when I realized what a monster I had become, and I remain unwilling to forgive myself. 

So now I am here at the government’s high school. Those vile people wiped my memory and put me in one of their schools hoping for a “re-do.” I had been their top student. 

I wasn’t supposed to remember and I honestly wish that I couldn’t. I wish that I could be a new person with a new past and a new identity.  

Seeing Chandler for the first time in three years was uncomfortable. Yeah, that’s the best way to put it. 

I could barely pay attention to what the teacher was saying. His unwavering stare distracted me, made my cheeks grow warm for the first time in months. But if he knew who I had become he wouldn’t even look at me. The thought makes me want to sob. Leave him alone. A voice in my head whispers. I decided its best to listen, no matter how much it hurts. 

I shudder underneath the minimal warmth of the tattered old jacket. I knew that this day was coming…I just hadn’t put a lot of thought into it. Two children run by; snowflakes resting in their auburn hair. One bumps into me; he is shivering way worse than I am.

“I am so sorry.” He mutters. The look of terror in his eyes tears my heart in half. I grab his wrist right as he goes running off. He looks at me pleading with his eyes. 

“Please don’t turn me in.” His voice cracks with oncoming tears. I simply shake my head and shrug off my coat. Goosebumps rise on my arms the moment that my skin is exposed to the cold. I hand it to him; his giant green eyes fill with relief. 

“Thank you, miss.” He runs off again and disappears down the alley. I feel a small smile tug at the corner of my lips. 

That night I decided to go hungry rather than dig from the trash.

The scene fades and is instantaneously replaced by another. 

He sits beside me; so close that our legs touch. I flinch but don’t move away. I just sit beside him and silently relish the warmth. He slides something long and silver out from his pocket. The object catches the light and I tense up as I realize that he is holding a jagged dagger. A terrified shriek escapes me as he plunges the blade into a can of peaches. He looks at me from the corner of his eye. 

“Calm down I’m not going to hurt you.” He says. He lifts the lid of the can; skewers one of the yellow fruits and offers it to me. 

“Thanks,” I murmur. The grin that he gives me lights up his face making his brown eyes soften a tiny bit. 

“So…you can speak then?” I feel a tiny smile starting to form on my lips. I nod and take a bite of the peach. 

“My name is Chandler. Chandler Arrowood.” He holds his hand out for me to take it. I don’t and after a few seconds of waiting he slowly puts it down. His face is a little flustered. 

“My mother died when I was ten. My father shared the same fate when I was twelve. I had a brother too…I don’t remember him though. I just feel his absence.”

 My jaw drops in shock. We just met this morning and he is pouring his heart and soul out to me. He anxiously runs a hand through his dark hair.

“I guess what I am saying is that…you can trust me.” He throws his hands up; gesturing to the vacant alleyway. “You are the only one that I have now- “He stops himself and casts a glance at me. I feel a blush rising as I realize that he is waiting for me to say my name. I smile again.

“Clarity. Clarity Viola.” He smiles again.

“Well, you can tell me anything, Clarity Viola.” 

My eyes snap open. The memory of Chandler brings a fresh wave of pain to my heart. How many times have I had to do this? How many times have I had to remind myself that it is over? How many times have I had to take the needle and sew my bleeding heart back up? I guess the wound never really healed. The scar never sealed shut. 

You can tell me anything Clarity Viola. I run my hands through my tangled hair and then throw the blanket off of my lap. I pull on a black jacket and silently slip out from my window. Hopefully, Shawn and Lacy won’t notice my absence.  My feet hit the extended tree branch and I swiftly make my way down the rough tree. Finally, my feet hit the pavement. And an uncomfortable wave of déjà vu rolls through me. 

My boots slap the pavement as I run down the alleyway. The orange that I stole sits heavily in the pocket of my jet-black coat as I make my way towards our rendezvous point. 

Before I know it, I break into a sprint. The hood falls off of my head, exposing my vibrant red mane. My feet hit the sidewalk in a rhythmic pace. I relish the way the wind whips through my hair. I slow down some as I near a light blue house. I see a lonely silhouette perched on the top of the roof. Chandler. My heartbeat quickens. Geez, Clarity calm down.

 Without a sound I make my way to the top of the roof. He doesn’t see me at first but when he does, he nearly loses his balance. I rush over to him. A sense of warmth courses through me as I help him up to his feet.

“Thanks.” He whispers. I let go of him and we stand there silently. I study him. He stands at about 5’7; his hair still softly grazes his intense eyes. He seems more…masculine than I remembered. 

My heart skips a beat as he pulls me into a tight embrace. Despite the warm feeling intensifying I tense up. My arms remain at my side. A piece of me wants to run, run as fast as I can board a bus, and never look back. Well, the other wants to wrap my arms around him and stay in this moment forever. 

“I can’t believe that you’re here. It’s you.” Tears roll down my cheeks. The girl that he is holding isn’t the girl that he remembers. I resist the urge to flee and return the embrace. He pulls back and I take a long moment to study his face up close. Then I notice something that makes my blood run cold. 

Dark purple half moons lay across the bottom of his eyes. He stares up at the stars asking me all sorts of questions about constellations. I smile as I answer all of his questions with an intelligent answer. Something prideful swells up in my chest. I was one of the lucky children who actually got to go to junior high.

 But then I see the sad look on Chandler’s face when he fails to understand what I told him. I quickly swallow my pride and the feeling is replaced by guilt. I take my eyes off of the sky and take another glance at him. 

“You should get some sleep,” I whisper. 

“Yeah, and why’s that?” He says followed by a yawn. A smile creeps onto my face as I reply. 

“Well, for one you’re loud yawning is going to wake up everybody on the block and we will be caught for sure.” I tease. He grins and then slowly drifts off. 

His peaceful face is replaced by Dr. Rothchild. 

“One of the first signs of the use of Anti lassitudinem is the disappearance of Periorbital dark circles.”  

He has no Periorbital dark circles under his eyes.