Clarette
by ~schnazzleberry– Oh, God! Someone call the police!
– Is he dead? Help! He’s bleeding everywhere!
– She’s blocking the door! You, break the window! We need to get out of here!
Whoops, maybe we should back up a little bit.
The time is 10 o’clock in the morning. A blonde girl rolls over in her bed smacking the “RESET” button on her beeping alarm clock. How’s about we call her Clarette? Don’t you think that’s a nice name? Clarette stretches and yawns as she throws her legs over the edge of her bed. It’s time to go on her daily morning run. There are still 3 hours until she has to show up at the soccer field to practice cheering for the big tournament. Clarette considers her schedule for the day.
**I really feel like taking a shower. I think I’ll skip my run today.
She walks into the bathroom and closes the door behind her. The sound of rushing water fills the air. Let’s give her some privacy and take a glance around her bedroom to learn a bit more about her. Looks like Clarette is a charitable figure in her community. There’s an entire wall covered in framed certificates of service achievement from her school and letters from various non-profit organizations, soup kitchens, and elderly homes around the area. Downstairs is a trophy case proudly displaying all of Clarette’s cheerleading, volleyball, and swimming achievements since she was five years old. She seems like a very busy girl. Her parents are both out of town on business, leaving her to take care of her dog and her 10-year-old brother, Soren.
Back upstairs, Clarette dries off and puts on her favorite jeans, an old t-shirt and one of those just-a-little-too-big-for-her sweatshirts. She walks over to her desk to attend to the low buzzing of her phone. She opens up the latest text from her best friend who, according to the message, is “soooo excited 4 the game 2day!!1!” She rolls her eyes at the horrid grammar and spelling and laughs inwardly as she responds “So am I! I think we’re going to win.”
**I’m hungry. I think I’ll go out to breakfast. There’s that new place on the way to school that I’ve been wanting to try out. What’s it called? Robert’s?
She goes to her desk and opens up her wallet only to find that there’s no money in it. She recalls that she spent the rest of her cash last night at the dry cleaners when she picked up her cheer uniform.
**Oh well, I’ll just use some of that emergency money Dad left in his closet.
She starts down the hallway and walks into her parents’ bedroom. Opening the closet door, Clarette reaches down and unlocks the small safe tucked away in the corner. In it, she finds an envelope full of cash. She grabs a couple of $20 bills and stuffs them in her pants pocket. While she puts the rest of the money back, she notices her father’s loaded 9mm. Cocking her head a bit to the side, Clarette cautiously picks up the weapon to get a better look at it.
– Huh. Cool.
Without thinking any further, she turns on the safety and slides the gun into her sweatshirt pocket. After closing and locking the safe, she heads downstairs. Grabbing her keys off of the kitchen counter, she shouts up the stairs to her brother.
– Soren! I’m heading out! I’ll be back in a little while. I’ll bring you something for breakfast.
She starts the car and pulls out of the driveway, listening to her favorite radio station the whole way. With every speed bump she drives over, her heavy pocket bounces off of her thigh.
Finally, Clarette arrives at her destination, parks and begins walking toward the restaurant’s front door. Humming a tune, she sees thin clouds of mist escape her lips.
**Jeez, I didn’t realize how cold it was.
She puts her hands in her pockets to warm them and runs her fingers along the trigger of the concealed firearm. A young woman with dreadlocks in her hair holds the door open as she steps out to smoke a cigarette. Clarette smiles at her kindness and walks into Robert’s.
– Good morning, miss! Table for one?
Clarette’s hand pulled the clunky contents out of her sweatshirt.
– Miss? Are you okay?
She clicks off the safety and raises her weapon up to the host’s forehead. Before he can protest, she pulls the trigger.
**I really like the décor of this place. It’s nice.
Scanning the room, Clarette makes eye contact with a thirty-something year old man sitting by himself at a booth. She notices a stain on his jacket. The bang of a gunshot precedes her next thought.
**Did I remember to put in the laundry before I left? Shoot, I should do that.
BANG. Down goes a waiter.
**Ooo, what dish was he carrying? It looks good.
BANG. A couple celebrating their first (and last) anniversary is blown away.
**I wonder where she got her nails done. I should’ve asked her.
One by one, people in the restaurant fall to the ground in crumpled heaps. Someone breaks a window, others pull out their cell phones. Their cries and pleas don’t seem to make their way through to Clarette. In fact, she does not move from the door even when she runs out of bullets. She simply keeps shooting until nothing comes out. She looks at the gun, drops it on the ground and walks outside.
**I’ll pick something up for Soren at IHOP or something. I don’t think he’d like anything from Robert’s.
Sirens sound and lights flash as Clarette walks to her car. As she drives away, she runs over a still-smoldering cigarette butt.
