Piece Three
1430 Words
“Give it back!”
“You'll have to try harder than that”, the red-haired girl said, holding Clara’s note up high. She giggled loudly as Clara tried to jump to her level. She was way shorter than her
Clara then noticed Rowan passing by, she swallowed hard, they had not crossed paths ever since what happened, she had tried all her best to avoid him, it worked, but now she had to ask him for his help. No one else was around, besides no one would even care to help out. Atlas was not at school. After much thought, she finally called out to him.
“Rowan…help me”
“Hand it over Flora” he said calmly to the red-haired girl,
“What?” Rowan Randolph definitely wouldn't be on Clara’s side, would he?
“Give it”. He stretched out his hands to her. She reluctantly gave it to him. He took the paper from Flora and tore it into pieces.
“That was my poetry, Rowan!” she tried so hard to fight her tears.
“Thanks for the information, but I don't care, come on Flora.”
He began to walk away like nothing had happened. Flora followed.
Clara bent down to look at almost one million pieces of her note. It looked like it had been shredded by a shredder
“By the way…. Rowan started interrupting her
“..you look hideous in that oversize dress you always have, and your glasses make it worse”. Her face was turning red, he took out his phone and then took a shot.
“Hashtag nerd is red” Flora said, chuckling.
After they had left, she was quiet for some minutes, then she screamed so loudly the surrounding birds flew away in fear.
“Arrghhh!!!!!”
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She could not wait to vent to Atlas. Clara did not know where to start from.
“Just think of how you write and speak that way.”
“I don't!....I don't speak? How could she explain to him, that if she had not written the spoken poetry she would not have known what to talk about?
“You are the best Clara and I know you'll pull this off”, he saw how she had been working effortlessly on poetry for the past weeks. He understood there was little or no time for her to start all over.
“It is easier said than done.”
“I see your room's neater”. Atlas was glad he didn't see any tissues scattered around her room.
“Really, Atlas, is that what you can say”? She narrowed her eyes at him.
They both heard a knock on her room door.
“Someone's at the door, no one else has access to this house except….”
“It's me Ruby”
“Hi ruby”
“Hey, hey what's wrong?” she rushed to her side.
“I lost my note where I wrote my spoken poetry”
“What?”
“Yeah”
“Omg that's bad, right?, but you could just speak without writing.”
“I don't want to talk about it, no one gets it; now why are you here Ruby?”
She still wondered what her cousin was doing in her room, of all places.
“I actually came here for something important, since you're about to face the whole school at your competition…”
“And choke on my saliva while trying to speak.”
“Clara let me finish, so how about a makeover?”
“A what now?”
“You really need this, and then the bill's on me, okay?
“I'm not interested” she muttered dryly.
“I am not asking.”
“Thank you, Ruby, you're an angel” Atlas blurted.
“Ignore Atlas, he's a weirdo.”
“Says the girl who is afraid to speak in front of the whole school….oops I'm sorry Clara”, he covered his mouth with his hands immediately.
“No you're not.”
She rolled her eyes at him and then continued
“Ruby look, you've ignored me ever since we were little, basically only Atlas here knows we're related, and now you show up all of a sudden acting like you care?”
“It's not an act. I know I've not been the best sister to you…”
“Cough, cough ,cousin”
“You really are good at interrupting Clara, aren't you?”
Atlas was about to mutter something, but he kept quiet immediately.
“As I was saying, I'm ready to make it up to you.”
“By giving me a makeover? Come on, you can do better than this.”
“Trust me, this is the best thing you need right now. You know appearance matters, the judges wouldn't just look at what you wrote or how you spoke, but they'd look at your demeanor. Please, Clara, just trust me.”
“But I'm fine just the way I am.”
“No you're not…uhhm I mean you are, but an improvement is needed. Okay, see it as an upgrade.”
She looked at both Atlas and Ruby and then sighed.
“Fine, an upgrade it is.”
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“Now let's see how she plans to win this competition” she smirked. She explained to her friends how Rowan had destroyed Clara's note.
“Flora, how do you know this would slow her down?”
One of her friends asked if they were three in the group.
“Trust me, I've been observing her these past weeks and I know she writes more than she speaks..Okay tell me, why in the world would you write spoken poetry?”
“True, you do have a point.”
The other girl added
“Send me what you've written by the end of the day, so I can proofread it before I submit it.”
“Like you know what you're doing, Flora.”
Maria understood that Flora wasn't really interested in the competition, but she was only doing it to please her father(who thinks she's spoiled and good for nothing since she doesn't do well in class), she wondered why she'd also sabotage someone else's chances of winning, but she didn't care she was not that good either, so she'd play along
“I'll take that as a joke, but next time I'll drag your hair, till every strand falls off.”
“And do you know what to say?”
“I'll think of something. It can't be that hard, right?”
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Clara had little dinner that night. Her mother had a shift that night, so it was just her and her dad. She tried as much as possible to hide her feelings, she didn't want him to notice.
“Start talking to Clara”, her father said to her after dinner.
“I'm sorry, but I don't think I can do this anymore. I lost my note, it took me weeks to get it all together, and now it's gone.”
“You have a brain, Clara.”
“You know it doesn't work that way.”
“Okay, okay, let's do it this way, there's one secret writers have. Do you know a writer has a story in his/her head about anyone?”
“I don't get it”
“Let me make this explicit, say you're at a café by the roadside. You just sit there waiting for your coffee, and then you start to pay attention to everyone that passes by. Gradually you begin to form a story in your head about them, am I right?”
“Yes, yes, I do that subconsciously.”
“That's it, that's what being a writer is, there might be some challenges like your note being stolen… but there's always a story up there. It is there, just reach out and write well …in this case speak!”
“I totally get it now. It's one thing getting an idea, but it's another, facing the crowd, dad.”
“And what did I tell you about fear?”
“It is only an illusion.”
“Good, now keep saying that till your subconscious gets it.”
She looked at her dad. What would she do without him? But then a thought lingered in her head…
But then it's one thing facing the crowd, but it's another, knowing Rowan is one of those people…. Oh no
- Writer
