Well. Michael was right.
She did wake up feeling like a completely different person.
Although sleep was a loose term, Clara drifted awake sometime right before her alarm was set to go off. It wasn't until the snooze button had been hit twice, however, that Clara finally managed to get herself out of bed.
"Take the apple for now," Aaron told her at the breakfast table, once she'd found her way downstairs. He added more peanut butter to his toast. "You can eat the bar once it gets closer to race time, but you shouldn't have much in your stomach once it starts... at least, if you want it to stay there."
The car ride to the school was quiet, mostly because it was just the two of them. Pearl and the kids were following at a less ungodly hour, but that didn't mean that the dark, early morning was without their support; a small handmade card rested in Clara's lap: signed, hearted, and with the words 'Do your best!' scribbled in blue crayon. There was even a small stick figure of Clara racing across the finish line, a gold medal already hanging around her neck, and despite everything, Clara was finally feeling like it could happen. She glanced down one more time at the triumphant smile on the drawing's oblong face, and smirked.
Anything could happen.
@_@_@_@_@
To: Cal (D:)
Please don't delete this without reading it first. Calder, I'm so sorry. I was in the middle of writing you an apology when I accidentally fell asleep, and I didn't get your text until it was too late. I am SO sorry. Look, I know you're probably wondering what the hell is going on, but you've got your race to focus on too, so I promise that I'll explain everything after you win today. If you still want me to, that is.
Sent: Saturday, Oct 19 6:48am
To: Cal (D:)
And just in case you wait until after the race to read these, well... I'm still hoping there's a chance that you're not too busy to keep your offer for tonight.
Sent: Saturday, Oct 19 6:49am
@_@_@_@_@
Clara flopped onto the bus seat with a sigh, hoping that she'd done the right thing. She hadn't agonized much over what to say—it'd all just come out in a rush, like her fingers had known exactly what she'd needed to say the most—but instead what she did agonize over was whether or not her little attempts at damage control might potentially make things worse. She certainly didn't want him to think that she was just acting on a guilty conscience. She wasn't. Was she? But if she didn't text him at all, then he might think that she really was still angry with him, or that she was avoiding him, which could be just as harmful and—really, it was awfully presumptuous of her to think that he might be thinking about any of this at all, especially today of all days, but—whatever. She couldn't think about this anymore. There was too much thinking. And she had her own race to focus on, too.
Which I'm gonna frickin' dominate, she stared out into the dark parking lot, watching as the dawn began to break. Just you wait.
A weight dropped onto the space at her side, breaking Clara's gaze from the hold of the brightening sky. She expected Ben out of habit and Michael out of hope, but found Alexandria instead. Her surprise must have been obvious.
"Michael told me," Alexandria whispered.
Blind panic seized her, rocketing a million and one excuses and pleading apologies to the forefront of Clara's hay-wiring mind, but it was unnecessary. "I'm sorry, Clara," she quietly apologized, effectively shutting down all mental operations just a foot to her right. "I wouldn't have teased you so much about getting asked to the dance if I'd known about Ben."
