Oh Clara, her brain said. You’re too big to hide under a rock. But maybe we can turn you into a bug. Would you like that? You could be a ladybug because you’re so pretty and ladybugs are pretty, and then you can hide under a rock for as long as you like. Would you like that?
“Yes, I’d like that,” Clara replied to her brain.
“Good,” her mother said. There was relief evident in her voice. “Her name is Dr. Morton, and she’s very nice.”
“Huh?” Clara asked.
Ellen looked at her daughter patiently.
“Clara, get dressed for school.”
***
She walked down the hallway sweating profusely. She was sure it showed right through her shirt. The hallway swayed just slightly, and she put her arm out for balance.
They can’t see you if you can’t see them, her brain said, and she bent her head as low as she could.
“Apparently they broke up,” she heard someone say.
“Just as well. That was such a weird relationship anyway,” was the reply.
“What did he ever see in her?”
Clara walked faster. She bumped into someone as she rounded the corner for health class.
“Watch it,” he growled.
She drew in her breath and entered the classroom. She walked to her seat, shaking violently. She heard voices coming from behind her.
“Amy was mortified,” a girl said. “Just mortified that Evan would do that to her. I mean, her dress. Taking another girl to prom in her special dress.”
“Well, how special was it if she donated it to a consignment shop?” someone asked.
“You’re totally missing the point here,” the girl huffed. “It was their dress from last year. She wore it just for him.”
“Okay, I see what you’re saying.”
Clara pulled out her notebook.
Clara, maybe you should turn around and scream at those girls, her brain suggested.
She shook her head. She tried to focus on fifty minutes. Just fifty minutes and then she could run out and be alone for the rest of the day. No other shared classes with him. Corner table in the cafeteria. A new book.
He walked in and glanced her way. She looked at him and he averted his eyes.
“But Amy’s forgiven him,” the girl continued. “She’s got such a forgiving heart. I guess he apologized to her or something. I heard they had sex and they’re back together.”
“They always belonged together.”
Now Clara, are you going to let them say those things? her brain asked. They don’t belong together. Amy is a whore. Go ahead and turn around and say that she’s a whore.
“No,” Clara said softly.
“What did you say?” came a sharp voice from behind her.
Clara froze.
The two girls walked over to her desk. One sat on it.
“Did you say something to us?” she asked. “Because you weren’t part of the conversation.”
“You w . . . were t-talking about m-me,” Clara stuttered, her face lowered.
“What is wrong with you?”
Clara didn’t respond, wouldn’t look up at the girls. She was afraid of them. She was afraid of Amy. Of Evan. She was afraid of everyone.
“You are such a goddamn weirdo,” the girl said after a moment, and they walked away back to their desks.
Well, she does have a point, Clara, her brain said. You are a little weird. I wouldn’t say a goddamn weirdo, but weird, yes. Go on and run away. Remember we talked about turning you into a ladybug?
***
Clara heard Beatrice talking at the dinner table, but she was unsure if it was important.
“Beatrice, hold on,” Ellen said. She turned to Clara. “Two weeks, Clara. What’s going on? You’ve lost six pounds and you’re not doing your homework.”
Clara looked at her plate. “May I be excused?”
“No, you may not be excused,” her mother snapped. “Now I know you got your feelings hurt. What Evan did was terrible, but you’ve got to get over it.”
This is rich coming from her, Clara’s brain said. She lay in bed for a month before disappearing. Go ahead and tell her that, Clara. Ask her why you can’t lay in bed for a month and then disappear. We can make you a ladybug.
“Everything out on the table,” her mother said. “We know what’s not being said.”
Beatrice looked over at Clara. Clara’s eyes stayed glued to her plate.
“I was depressed. I stayed in bed for weeks,” Ellen said impatiently. “We all know it.” She looked at Clara. “Clara, look at me right now,” she demanded.
Clara looked up from her plate.
“Do you think for a second I’m going to let you do what I did?” her mother asked, but her tone wasn’t harsh. It was gentle and pleading. “I hurt you.” She looked at Beatrice. “And I hurt you, honey.”
Beatrice smiled tentatively.
“It hurts people,” their mother went on. “When you sink down like that. You hurt yourself. But the pain you cause others is worse. And I’m so sorry, girls. I’m so sorry for what I did to you. And I won’t let you do it, Clara. I won’t.”
Tell your mother to go fuck herself, Clara.
“Okay, Mom,” Clara said without a trace of humanity in her voice.
***
She only had a few steps left to take. She was eating alone again, now that Evan was gone, now that she effectively pushed Florence away. She didn’t mean to. She couldn’t help it. She had retreated into herself. And Florence wanted nothing more to do with her because she was just seventeen and didn’t know how to handle a friend who was losing her mind.
The tray had become too heavy, and she knew if she didn’t move fast she would drop it. She shook with a new violence and watched in horror as the tray tipped, spilling everything onto the floor in a loud crash.
People seated at the nearby table looked over and rolled their eyes. She was a nuisance, and they didn’t want spilled food sitting on the floor next to them.
Clara, look what you did, her brain said. We talked about being invisible, didn’t we? Now you have all of these people looking at you. Aren’t you embarrassed?