I am Clara

Shower Guest

I woke up not to Andrews' loud snoring or endless flailing, nor to the sounds of chirping birds, but rather to an uncomfortable feeling: a feeling that someone was watching me. Whole body stiff, I didn't even bother moving. Slowly tearing my eyes open, I slid my gaze from the white ceiling to the height of the top of my bed post. Batter covered spatula in hand and cocked brow, Anna stood at the foot of my bed, eyes poring directly into my own.

     "Do I even want to know what happened to your face?"

     "No."

      "Just promise me you're not in any sort of danger."

      "I'm not in any sort of danger," I repeated.

      Briefly closing her eyes, she shot me the same exasperated look her son had shot me most of last night.

      "I'm going to ignore the fact that your words didn't sound sincere and let you know that breakfast or lunch is ready." She was already walking towards the door. "Please wake my daft son before coming down."

      I waited until the door was fully closed. I elbowed Andrews, sending him bouncing off the bed. Laughing at the way his last snore cut off sharply, I forced myself to my elbows, peering down at him on the floor.

      Tired eyes squinted at me from the floor. Coming to a sitting position, he launched an abandoned sandal my way.

      "How are you feeling?" he asked, caring for my well-being, despite having been thrown off my bed.

      "I'm fantastic," I replied, words laced with sarcasm. "How are you?"

      "Great," he mimicked my tone, coming to a stand. "What the hell?" he shouted, reaching for his back pocket. He brought his hand towards his face, staring at the black goo in a mixture of shock and confusion. Attempting to spread his fingers and shake the substance off, he groaned as it was made clear that the twins' prank wouldn't be easily removed. There was no question that this was their doing.

      "Stop laughing," he whined. "I am so coming with you on your next visit. The little shits won't know what hit them."

      "I highly advise you to reconsider starting a pranking war with Tyler and Tyson Molino."

      Deciding to ignore my warning and determined look on his face, he marched towards the door.

      "Hey!" I shouted, ungracefully jumping out of bed, running crookedly from my bodies aching wounds. "Do not touch my door. I don't want any goo on my stuff."

      "It's not funny." It was my turn to complain.

       Amused, Andrews watched me put away my plate, as he continued to eat his ham sandwich with his now clean but slightly stained hands. Messy pants also abandoned, he sat in his blue plaid boxer shorts and plain grey T-shirt.

      "I probably killed him."

      "Sure, that kind of sucks but he tried to kill you first," he pointed out through a mouthful. "It's really impressive. You're strong enough to accidentally push a grown man off a bridge."

      "Not so loud." I shot a weary glance towards the living room.

     Andrews paid little attention to my warning. Excitedly bouncing his leg, he continued to ramble on. "Don't you feel invincible?"

      "Are you kidding me?" I snorted wryly. "Invincible? Do I look invincible?" Pointedly I looked down at all my wounds.

     "Despite coming out of them a little banged up, you've still won all your fights."