I am Clara

Heat Strokes

I'm not sure why I had the sudden change of heart, but I had finally begun to take the Terpilih thing seriously. Mimpi and I were on better terms. I suppose I had begun to take her more seriously as well. I had even learned that her real name was Guanli, though I continued to call her Mimpi. Despite her protest, I knew she enjoyed the nickname. Especially considering the mix up with the translation.

      Don't mistake my sudden respect for Mimpi for a budding friendship. She still annoyed me beyond my wits, and I her, but we had developed some extent of mutual respect. It was as though we came to the conclusion that we needed each other. Both our lives depended on the other's survival. It was about time we started acting like we were on the same team. It was about time that I stopped acting like this was some big prank. I wanted to live. And if I wanted to live, I had to win, and winning would not be easy. No more messing around.

      Much to everyone's surprise, I had taken up jogging. My foot was still green, but I had gotten used to the pain and had long ago ditched the crutches.

      "Where are you going?" Andrews asked.

     Our tension had eased. Though he remained suspicious, he dropped his investigation... or he was at least hiding it better. Whichever it was, I didn't mind. I knew him well enough to know that this question was out of pure curiosity.

      "Just going for a jog."

      "Again?" His brows pinched together ridiculously, coming together into one wanky line. "Did you not go this morning?"

      I had gone that morning, but Mimpi had mentioned a short free period in her schedule and offered to help me train. Andrews' yard was out of the question, so we agreed to meet at the park.

       "It's a nice day," I said. "And I've got a lot of energy to spend."

      "It's 30 degrees out."

      "The heat feels great." I jogged in place as I started to stretch.

      "You've been so... pleasant, lately?" His tone of question in his voice made it seem as if my pleasant mood was implausible.

      "I do tend to be happy when my life doesn't turn to shit," I said. I hadn't been attacked in weeks, Mimpi hadn't shared any warnings and the Sphere had been slowing down with the injections. "I suppose I'm feeling better now that I've come to terms with the fact that both my father and my mother have abandoned me."

      Andrews made a face at my cheerful tone. He shook his head in exasperation and managed a small chuckle. "Just drink some water," he advised, disappearing behind the kitchen door. "I don't want you getting a heatstroke."

      "Yes, mom."

      "I heard that," he complained through the door.

      "You were meant to."

      I was strangely looking forward to Mimpi's training, it finally felt as though she was going to teach me something useful. Though she explained that she couldn't teach me proper fighting skills without help, whatever that meant, she promised to teach me her warriors' routines. From my understanding, she was going to walk me through a workout. Upon reconsideration, I didn't understand where the excitement came from. I was likely to regret our agreement.

      I was indeed correct to conclude that I would regret it. It seemed Mimpi's warriors had no lives outside of training. I had been out for four hours, and the only way I convinced Mimpi to let me go, without angry protests, was by informing her that if I didn't return before supper, a search party would be ordered by Andrews and our secret spot in the woods would be found.

      Muttering something that sounded like stupid boy, she let me go.

      For once I was grateful for my mother hen/best friend. Sweaty and muddy from head to toe, I doubt I could have handled another minute of the torture Mimpi called exercise. My body was wrecked; I may as well have been attacked by one of Kundanskie's ninjas. She had started with common exercises like push-ups, and though she expected an excessive amount, I held my own until that point. I got my ass served on a silver platter when she convinced me to include my surroundings. She made me run outside of the regular, smooth path, instructing me to throw the odd heavy rock, crawl through the prickly dirt and climb and jump from trees as though I was Tarzan. Long story short, I was an aching mess and Mimpi was losing her mind at the thought of my new potential boyfriend named Tarzan. No explanations sufficed to ease her mind.

      Though I had spent the entire afternoon with it, the Sphere waited moments before I opened the Andrews' front door to give me an injection. Swearing at the rock, the door swung open, revealing Andrews with a phone to his ear. Eyes locked on me, he hung up. I shot him my best apologetic smile, newly cramped chest forcing a rigid posture upon me.

      "Are you going to come in?" he asked, after a long silence. He didn't bother to question my muddy state.

      I nodded, once again grateful that he dropped his act of interrogation. Though I nodded I barely moved; body immobile as my top half remained locked in place. Andrews frowned, approaching me with his light brown investigative eyes.

      "You're not breathing properly," he noted, eyes prickling with urgency. "Your posture is slouched, you look sweaty, your skin is red." He placed the back of his hand to my head. "You're burning up."

       Having tried to dodge his touch, I inhaled sharpy, sudden movement stealing my breath. "I – I Just. Finished. Working out."

      "Is your vision blurred?" He shoved three fingers in front of my face.

      Swatting his hand away led to another sharp intake of breath, which really did nothing to ease his frantic state. He walked past me, muttering under his breath. It took me so long to turn his way, that I had no time to protest his stupidities. Before I knew it, I was hit by a strong jet of freezing cold water.

      "Easton Samuel Andrews!" I shrieked, unsuccessfully shielding myself from the stream of water with my hands.

      "A four-hour workout!" he cried out in outrage. "In this heat? I told you not to overdo it."

      "I'm not having a stroke." I spit water as I made my way towards him. Cramps and aches forgotten we wrestled for the hose.

     "You're right," he said, huffing indignantly when I managed to spray his chest. "Thanks to my quick thinking."

      "That hose attack did nothing to help me."

      "Really? Seems to me like you're feeling much better." He shut the water off with satisfaction, and then regarded me with narrowed eyes when he took notice of his wet shirt.

       I didn't even know what to say. I blinked at him, hair sticking to my face and water dripping from the clothes sticking to my cool skin. I had no words for him. Leaving a trail of water behind me, I walked past Andrews, through the kitchen and up to my room to forget about the idiot that I had chosen as my person.