Pondering

4 | lemonade

『 Chapter Four: Lemonade 』

THE INFINITE PAIN ONE feels after an intense workout is a mixture of being ran over by a bus and squashed by an elephant. The muscles are so worn out due to the fact on how poorly one regularly uses them. It's as if the muscle tissue is screaming for help, the body altogether accumulating soreness; a true pain in the ass.

Track season had officially started and Clara Dante, the great sprinter, had lost her pazzaz. Her legs ached, along with her ribs, the familiar feeling of soreness overtaking her body. Entering her first class for the day, she groaned as she took a seat. A sigh of annoyance escaped her lips, her torso twisting in order to get her bag and taking out her proper items.

The day consisted of the same boring classes: physics, calculus, economics, and the most boring of all, and English Literature. Clara didn't mind the rest of her classes, but she dreaded arriving to class to find her teacher ready for the class to pop open a textbook and read it for the rest of the period. Fortunately, she was average and well dedicated student who defied the school system and receive early release as a senior.

"CQ! How was your first day of practice yesterday?" A ray of sunshine, or more commonly know as Maple Summit, asked. A fresh smile of pearly white flashed, wavy brown locks portraying her symmetrical face. It seemed as if the girl got even prettier by the day, which Clara envied a bit.

Another sigh. "Horrible, I'm so out of shape that I thought I was having a stroke yesterday."

A small frown formed on, the creases at the edges of her eyes and her scultped eyebrows scrunching together. Taken aback in confusion, the girl tilted her head. "What do you mean horrible? Aren't you like All-Star Track Team Extraordinare?"

Clara chuckled. "I haven't been working out much off-season," she explained. "It seemed as if I was a started yesterday afternoon."

As Maple was about speak, the late bell rung and the teacher quickly stood, ready to start the lesson. Clara huffed, her attention on what never-ending torture was going to take place today.

❁

The heat of the afternoon was one of the factors in which Clara dreaded running. It was meant to be cool, but in good, old California, that never happened. The sole of her shows were hot and her shoulder ached, her duffel bag feeling as if it weighed tons.

Walking up her driveway, Clara could see her mother at work on the front yard garden. Frowning, the girl approached cautiously.

"Mom?" She asked.

In a bit of a surprise, the blonde haired woman gasped. "Clara! Well you're home early." A smile curled onto her lips, something she rarely did often.

"Yeah, it was too hot to run. What are you doing?"

"Gardening." Clara's mother, Sophia, explained. "I decided to be, er-- productive."

A nervous chuckle came from the young girl, trying to hide her confusion. "Uh, yeah, I can see that."

"Do you want some lemonade?" Sophia asked, tilting her head in question. A straw hat was helping her sheild the sun's rays, a few stray rays hitting her blonde hair; a trait Clara wish she had gotten from her.

"You...made lemonade?" It felt as if a bucket of cold water fell on her, her tone full of suprise. "Not that I'm saying it's a bad thing! You can make lemonade, it's just--"

Clara's mother laughed. "I know it's a bit of a shock, it's just that I felt a bit motivated." The woman stood up, dusting off her faded blue jeans and looked at het daughter. "So, are you coming in or roasting yourself out here?"