Clockwork Heart | ✓

unus.

Los Angeles, 2015

Brooklyn Mathis ducked her head and covered her book with her jacket as she hurried down a busy Los Angeles street. Normally it was hotter than hell in June in California, but that day? That day was stormy and cold, and if there was one thing Brooklyn hated, it was stormy and cold weather. She pushed through crowds of people that were walking at the pace of snails and checked her phone. Five o'clock. Man, her parents were going to kill her.

Brooklyn, of course, hadn't woken up until half past noon, and hadn't finished showering and getting dressed until one. That left very little time for her to run down to her favorite book store, and it took her hours to pick a good book. She hadn't realized the time until she left the store.

When she got home, she dropped her book and her bag on a chair. "Mom!" She yelled. "I'm home!"

The house was eerily silent. Everything was turned off. Her mother always left the TV on.

Brooklyn checked her phone again. No missed calls, and her parents were usually home at five-thirty. She unlocked her phone and called her dad. The call went straight to voicemail. Her mom's disconnected. Brooklyn sighed and took a seat on the couch. She wished she had actual friends to call and maybe go over to their house until she figured out what was going on, but everyone she knows aren't really friends.

"Whatever," she mumbled. She picked up the remote and hit the button to turn on the TV. Nothing. She clicked it a few more times, smacked the remote against her hand, then clicked it some more. Completely dead. She'd just changed the batteries yesterday!

Another call to each of her parents sent her straight back to voicemail. Finally a call came on the landline--what was going on, she didn't know. But she didn't get to the phone in time and then had to sit, waiting to listen to what the caller said.

Hi, Brooklyn. Your father and I went on a day trip, so you'll be home alone until later tonight. Don't wait up sweetheart! We left you some money for pizza or takeout. See you when we get home! I love you!

She let out a huff. Great. No parents.

She ordered pizza and waited around for it to come, playing games on her phone and reading until it came. She blasted music as she ate to cover the silence of the house and then wrapped up the leftovers and put them in the fridge. She stayed up until ten and then went up to bed, collapsing onto it in her skinny jeans, boots, and jacket. Her phone buzzed on the table next to her bed, and her book hit the floor, but she was too far gone to bother reaching for either.