Darling Clementine

Four

The morning after spring break had ended was the second hardest morning of my life.

Vivian came banging down my door at the crack of dawn. I awakened in my bundle of blankets on the floor with stiff muscles and a dizzying headache. My eyelids fluttered, fighting to stay open, and my hair hung in my eyes in tangled waves.

“Clementine, wake up. School starts in an hour.” Vivian called from the other side of the closed door, her knuckles still rapping loudly on the wood.

I groaned in response and pulled the blankets over my head. I closed my eyes and felt myself being pulled back into unconsciousness.

“I mean it Clementine Blythe. If you ain’t ready in the next hour, you’ll be goin’ to school in what you got on now.” She banged on the door once more. “Get up!”

I grunted and threw the blankets from my face. I stared up at the black ceiling of the pitch dark room, blinking the sleep from my dry eyes. Minutes later, I was in the shower, already loathing the day. As the water beaded down on me, I couldn’t help but feel apprehensive and sick to my stomach. I thought my new beginning started four weeks ago when the plane touched down in the small airport just outside the town’s limits, but my new beginning was starting now, in a new school.

After ten minutes, my fingertips were starting to wrinkle, and I turned off the water, wrapped myself in a towel and stepped out of the tub. I hurriedly dressed in corduroy khaki capris, a green band tee shirt and a grey hoodie before assembling my arm in the sling.

Two weeks. I thought as I tightened the adjustment on the sling. Two more weeks and I will be getting this dreadful thing off. I was counting the minutes.

I leaned forward in the mirror and ran my fingers through my drenched hair. I prodded at my roots which were fading back to a light honey blonde.

Shit. I added buy more hair dye to my mental checklist.

I blow dried my hair, letting my fringe hang in my face, and bushed my teeth. I gave one last glance in the mirror and left the bathroom.

Vivian was sitting at the breakfast table, eating a bowl of Cheerios when I walked in. She looked up and scanned her eyes up and down. She frowned. “That’s what you’re wearing for your first day?” She snorted. “If you’re trying to make a lasting impression, don’t even bother.”

I scowled and poured my own bowl of Cheerios with two spoonfuls of sugar. “Unlike you, I couldn’t give two shits what people think of me.” I grumbled.

“You watch that language of yours Child. No granddaughter of mine is going to use her tongue that way.” She sounded mortified talking with all those cheerios in her big mouth.

I chuckled as I took a seat at the table. “Oh Grandma, if you think that’s bad, then you would be mortified to know about the other things I use my tongue for.”

Vivian gasped, inhaling her cereal into her throat. She choked for a good ten seconds, while I was fighting back laughter. Her face red and her eyes full of tears, she banished me from the house.

Amused, I grabbed my backpack I had languidly prepared the night before with a binder, loose leaf paper, and a pencil, and headed out the door.

Jezebel met me on the corner of my street just like she had promised me, and I listened to her yap about how great Rockefeller High School was.

 We walked side by side on a manmade path of light brown cobble on the side of the road. The sun was just edging over the horizon―the sky made of varying shades of purples pinks and oranges. Wispy clouds stretched along the sky like a sheer thin blanket. There was a light salty breeze burning my nose, making it difficult to execute even breaths. Or maybe it was the panicked feeling sinking into the marrow of my bones. I dug a cigarette out of my coat pocket and lit it up.