No, I'm Not Ready For Finals

Clara

I lead Clara around the corner to the hall closet. “Thank you! I never could have done this without you.” I scream whisper.

“You’re welcome” Clara whispers back. “Where’s the cleaning stuff. We should get back to the kitchen.”

I opened the door and pulled out the tools we needed. We head back to the kitchen and went to work. After what seemed like forever the kitchen was as good as physically possible after that much mud.

I look at the clock. And take a deep breath. It’s been almost two hours since my mom left. Everything is clean just in time. I turn to Clara. “Sugar?” I ask.

“Right.” Clara agrees. I lead her to the kitchen cabinets. Way up high just under our nine and a half foot ceiling was moms baking stuff. Kept in plastic tubs. I look around for the step latter that mom uses. “Mom has this step later but I have no idea where it is.”

“Just reach. You’re tall” Clara says.

“Fine.” I agree. I reach but it was a bit too high. All the bins fall, pouring fluffy powder all over us.

“What’s that sound?” Clara asks. I stop and listen. “That’s my phone!” I exclaim. As I run upstairs I check the time on the big wall clock in the stair well. I get a rush of panic when I realize that mom could be home at any second. At the almost last second I answer my phone.

“Mom?” I ask.

“Hey honey. Your sister’s plane was delayed. It will be about ten minutes until she lands. Sorry but you’re going to have to hold down the fort a bit longer. How is everything?” Mom explains.

“Everything's fine.” I say.

“I know its agents my rules but if it would help you study you can put on Dora for Lilia.”

“Thanks mom.” I respond “I will see you when you get home.” I hang up the phone.

I glance at my desk. My study guides are missing. I run down the stairs. “Clara? Have you seen my study guides?” I holler.

“No” Clara responds from the kitchen. “I can work on this mess if you want to look for them. I know how important grades are to you.” she pauses for a moment. “Maybe Lilia took them?”

“It’s possible” I say.

“Lilia! Lilia where are you?” My voice echoing through the house.

“I'm here, Anna Beth,” came a muffled voice from behind mom’s bedroom door. I fling the door open. To my horror Lilia has mom’s lipstick all over her face, hands and moms bedding. Lilia was sprawled across mom’s bed using the lipstick as a crayon on my study guides! All I can do is start crying. “Anna Beth, what’s wrong?”

“Clara!” I call helplessly. We hear running feet up the stairs. Then Clara was at the door. “Help...” was all I could say.