The metal BB’s hit the targets with what Clara thinks is the most satisfying sound she knows (next to perhaps the sound Wally Mack’s nose made when she broke it a few months ago). Usually, just disappearing down into her storeroom and shooting for a few minutes calms her down. Not tonight, however. Tonight, she’s shaking and her eyes are teary in frustration and embarrassment and not even imagining Christine Kendall’s face on the targets gets rid of these feelings.
She hadn’t even wanted to go to prom! Clara had been perfectly content and resigned to a night in alone. Her father and Amata had their own plans for her. Amata had showed up with a dress and a whole bag full of things to tame Clara’s short, curly hair. After three hours, one for convincing and two for primping, Clara was dragged away from her bed in a too-pink dress and heels that hurt her feet. The one thing she couldn’t complain about, however, was her hair. Ever since Wally Mack thought it’d be funny to snip her ponytail off months ago, Clara had given up on her hair. Amata refused to, however, and the end result was soft red curls that bobbed just along Clara’s jawline.
Clara wouldn’t say it out loud but she felt pretty, and when she walked into the Atrium and saw all the string lights and heard the music she was glad Amata had forced her to come.
And then Christine Kendall decided that it’d be good to splash spiked punch all over Clara’s face and dress and hair. The momentary silence that followed was embarrassing, the encouraging laughter from Wally and Susie Mack even worse. Clara had clenched her fists and pushed past Christine Kendall in her red dress so roughly that the girl nearly fell over.
Clara had wanted to hit Christine right square in her face, still does in fact, but the Overseer was literally watching from his office window above. Since Clara wasn’t exactly itching to go through the trouble punching Wally Mack in the nose got her all over again, she walked away.
She’s so frustrated and angry with a dozen things that she can hardly steady her fingers when she goes to reload. Her face is tear damp and sugar sticky. She probably looks crazy…
As Time Goes By [F!LW/Butch]
The metal BB’s hit the targets with what Clara thinks is the most satisfying sound she knows (next to perhaps the sound Wally Mack’s nose made when she broke it a few months ago). Usually, just disappearing down into her storeroom and shooting for a few minutes calms her down. Not tonight, however. Tonight, she’s shaking and her eyes are teary in frustration and embarrassment and not even imagining Christine Kendall’s face on the targets gets rid of these feelings.
She hadn’t even wanted to go to prom! Clara had been perfectly content and resigned to a night in alone. Her father and Amata had their own plans for her. Amata had showed up with a dress and a whole bag full of things to tame Clara’s short, curly hair. After three hours, one for convincing and two for primping, Clara was dragged away from her bed in a too-pink dress and heels that hurt her feet. The one thing she couldn’t complain about, however, was her hair. Ever since Wally Mack thought it’d be funny to snip her ponytail off months ago, Clara had given up on her hair. Amata refused to, however, and the end result was soft red curls that bobbed just along Clara’s jawline.
Clara wouldn’t say it out loud but she felt pretty, and when she walked into the Atrium and saw all the string lights and heard the music she was glad Amata had forced her to come.
And then Christine Kendall decided that it’d be good to splash spiked punch all over Clara’s face and dress and hair. The momentary silence that followed was embarrassing, the encouraging laughter from Wally and Susie Mack even worse. Clara had clenched her fists and pushed past Christine Kendall in her red dress so roughly that the girl nearly fell over.
Clara had wanted to hit Christine right square in her face, still does in fact, but the Overseer was literally watching from his office window above. Since Clara wasn’t exactly itching to go through the trouble punching Wally Mack in the nose got her all over again, she walked away.
She’s so frustrated and angry with a dozen things that she can hardly steady her fingers when she goes to reload. Her face is tear damp and sugar sticky. She probably looks crazy…
“You look like you need a drink, Red.”