Hidden Under Perfection

Prologue: Five Years Earlier

I listen to the morning birds' chirp and the new leaves rustle while staring up at the clouds, trying to make out shapes in the white mist. My dark hair fanned out behind me a contrast to my ivory skin. The green grass is soft beneath my fingers, matching the color of my eyes, Tiny blades that sway in the breeze and brush up against my legs. "Claire!" Shouts John, my older brother, from the gate to the back yard, "look what I found."

He runs over, stumbling over his feet, towards my relaxed figure on the grass. John holds his hand over my face, waiting for me to sit up and take a look. When I finally relent I see a dusty old book, the kind that has a thick leather spine. I run my hand over the cover and the feel of aged leather is enough to make my heart flutter. When I take a closer look I see that the pages are yellow and wrinkled, like it was taken out in the rain and didn't dry right. "This is a journal, and it looks well-worn. Where did you find it?" I questioned while showing him the lack of a title.

"I found it while I was in the city library. Studying for my upcoming exam." My brother was in 10th grade at St. Albans- four years ahead of me- in Washington D.C.

"Have you looked through it?"

"No I was waiting for you, because you are the one who loves to read,"

"Okay, well, let's take a look," I stated while slowly opening the cover. "Whoa!"

" What do you think that is?" John asks looking at the device depicted on the page. It looked like an old projector, but there was a smart matter manipulator attached. The manipulator holds smart matter and changes it to the texture and color of anything on earth. The page was dated October 27, no mention of a year

" I have no clue," I whispered in bewilderment.

" Who wants sna- what are you looking at guys?" My mom asks as she walks out the back door holding my little sister, Jennifer, who is eight. She looks like a miniature version of me, her hair is the color of bark from an old oak tree and her eyes are the color of bright new spring leaves. Her face is just a little more tan than an eggshell.

" I think it's a journal, and it looks really old. There are blueprints of something with a smart matter manipulator, so it couldn't be that old." I answered still looking at the pages. "It says 'projector of texture and light.' What does that mean?"

" I don't know honey but I don't think you should be looking at that any more."

"Why not?"

"Because, things are not always what they seem." She says with a far off look in her eyes like she was thinking about the past. Snapping back to the present she asks, "Will you and John watch Jennifer while I have a conversation with your father?"

Mom walks over and takes the book out of john and my hands, with much protest on my part. She goes inside the talk to my dad, I faintly hear her say something about how the kids are being immature. Jen walks over - more like skips, her dark locks floating behind her in the wind - and asks us if we want to play monopoly. The board we own has lost half of the holo-pieces and the glass money has teeth marks on it from when Johnny was teething. We play because we know that it will make Jennifer happy and that means that mom will be happy. Everything about the journal was forgotten including the device and what it was.

When I woke up the next morning my mom was gone, I thought she had gone to work so I made myself breakfast. My meal consisted of protein cereal that had little to no sugar and orange juice. It tasted the same as it always does bland and boring so; I dumped the food remnants in the sink and left for school. I go to school at NCS the companion school to St. Albans and it's about a mile away from our house. I hop on my red bicycle, it is the perfect size and the paint is the color of a dark red cherry, and I am on my way to school. The roads are smooth and the trees are thriving and the sky is bright blue, the city is perfect.

The school building is white marble and there are glass walls on the side of every classroom. That is how every building looks in this city. The lockers are a light blue color and wide enough to fit everything you need to have. I go to homeroom and take out what I need for the day.

The front door is open when I gethome and I expect to see my mom in the kitchen making me a snack but she's notthere. I look for her in the office on the second floor, the master bedroom onground level, the library, I look everywhere but she is nowhere to befound. I call her cell, and I wait untilthe voicemail message plays. I do the same with her work number and she doesn'tpick up, she must be busy. I turn on the television and the news is the fistthing I see, it reads, 'Nora Willis reported missing and presumed dead.' I juststand and gape at the screen in disbelief. Her words keep replaying in my headover and over; things are not always what they seem.