Mr. I Don't Smile

24. worth it

24. worth it

Ciera

The day had finally arrived. Thanks-give-me-food.

While I was watching reruns of Kim Possible the door opened. I ignored it until Clara, who had come through the door, stood in front of the TV blocking my entire view. She was holding a box. "What?" I sighed, pausing the show.

"Don't you want to know what's in here?" She wriggled the box around.

"Not really."

Clara rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm going to tell you anyway. I bought pie. Cherry pie. From Mama Lotus." I gasped and stood up, rushing over to Clara. Mama Lotus was this elderly woman who lived a few blocks away. She was always making fresh pies and selling them, but it was hard to get them near holidays. They were absolutely delicious and forever in demand.

Clara set it on the table and went to the kitchen. She returned back with a knife, forks, two plates, and whip cream. "Don't tell anyone you got pie until we've each eaten at least two slices," I said. Clara nodded eagerly.

After we had the slices on our plates, I shook up the whipped cream before putting it all over. I took a bite and groaned. "Oh my goodness, this is so good."

I looked to Clara but her eyes were closed and she had a small smile on her face. "I feel like I just took a bite out of heaven."

"How about we just save it for later and tell no one about this?" I suggested.

"Mhmm," she murmured, taking another bite.

I. Loved. Pie.

)()(

After the short high of a savory treat wore off, I switched to deductive mode.

I was sure I could prove the mural was in my home, considering that I painted it on my wall. But I still wanted to know who the culprit was.

Someone was in my home last night. Jeremy and his idiot friends would be the ones to know who, but I doubt they would admit it. I would try when I returned to school, but until then, I was on my own.

I went to my bedroom, searching for signs of anything off. My room wasn't necessarily clean and organized, but I knew how it was, and there would be a telltale difference somewhere.

The window was open when I arrived home that day and I knew they had escaped through there.

I went over the to windowsill, searching around it. And sure enough, a pink piece of floral fabric was caught between the sash lock. I hadn't it noticed that day. It was small and I wasn't searching. But the evidence was right here.

"Got you," I murmured. I had seen this before. A gaping blank was left as to where, but that was okay. It'd come back to me. And then I would know.

I then recorded a video showing that the mural was in my house, but that might not be enough. I needed as much proof as I could get.

I hadn't turned in my birth certificate. I hadn't even told my parents because I'd be eighteen by the time of the trip and they'd have no hold over me. Besides, they wouldn't care anyway. But I needed my birth certificate.

It was somewhere in their gigantic file cabinet in here.

But I would look for it another time.