The sharp blades stung her bare legs as she raced after him. She scrambled over the hill into the golden meadow and his laugh rang like wind chimes, and Clare thought the tall grass was laughing with him. Her own laugh bubbled up from her chest and she broke into a sprint over the uneven ground after his bouncing brown curls. That familiar weight of her backpack pressing on her shoulders was somewhere far below her, at the bottom of that hill where the square brick siding of the high school was still visible, but up here on the meadow she could only see the sunlight reflecting off the gently swaying grass and the flash of Jesse’s smile as he ran ahead of her. A new excitement was twisting up her insides, making her heart pound like a hummingbird’s as her white dress danced around her knees.



The light turns green and the car jolts forward. Clare’s fingers are still absently playing with the hem of her white dress. There’s a green streak on one side that reminds her of a lightning bolt. She places her finger over the stain and feels the coolness of the grass instead of the sticky leather on her back. Her mother’s voice swells like a wave in the seat next to her and Clare closes her eyes in anticipation of the crash.

“Are you listening to a word I say?!”

The first pause in the barrage. Clare’s eyelids slowly part to reveal the fiery hazel eyes framed by deep blue-black circles, the lips pressed into a thin line, the hands clenched white on the black steering wheel. Rather than respond, Clare turns to the sky outside the fogged car window, where angry storm clouds are rolling over the clear blue.


Clare had run until her lungs burned. She collapsed onto a bed of grass, pulling Jesse down next to her. The meadow parted around the arcs of their bodies as they’d laid, heads together, naming shapes in the clouds. They’d talked about the future and how many days until summer and Mrs. Cooper’s mole that looked like a beetle. They’d listened to the grass whispering secrets and Clare felt as though she could melt into the cool ground under the dancing sun. Then Jesse rolled over onto his forearms and looked at Clare with eyes as blue as the sky and said he’d love her forever. Then he’d rolled back over and laughed like the Sunday bells in the old church tower and clasped her hand in his, two half-pieces of the universe made whole. Nothing, not the shattered mirror on her mother’s dresser, or the sound of her father’s old truck kicking up dust down the long driveway, or the fear that choked her voice when she opened her mouth to speak, could steal this from her. Clare closed her eyes and inhaled the sweet smell of bliss as an easy smile played across her lips.


“I just don’t know what you were thinking!” The strained voice rises a few more octaves. It reminds Clare of the baby lion she saw on that National Geographic channel, how it had just cried and cried, becoming more and more desperate for some response as it felt the mother steadily moving further and further away. Clare’s mother turns to the passenger side and Clare can feel the expectation of a response burning into the back of her head. She defiantly keeps her eyes trained out the misty car window, where spindly tree branches rush by, blurring together into a watercolor painting. In the reflection on the glass her mother’s blazing eyes dull, and her chest deflates just a little beneath gray hospital scrubs. Her voice is like a dying fire.

“What happened to my baby girl?”

Clare looks up at the sky to keep her eyes from stinging just as fat raindrops begin to fall.


They were only holding hands, still gazing up at the blue sky where they’d collapsed in the meadow, when the principal found them. He had only uttered an ominous “you are in so much trouble” before roughly grabbing each by one arm and leading them like calves to slaughter. Clare’s mother was already waiting in the stained office chair, a stethoscope still hanging from her neck, the lines around her mouth as deep as a river. Clare stumbled into the office behind the principal and her mother’s eyes flooded with relief as she bolted out of her chair. Then Jesse followed from behind the heavy oak door, his beautiful blue eyes cast down, and Clare watched the relief ice over into cool fury.

“What the hell is going on?!”

And from there it had not stopped. The shame flooded Clare’s face as her mother scolded her in front of Jesse, as though she were a child that had just broken the glass vase. Then Jesse’s father came. He didn’t say anything, but the rage in his eyes was meaner than a bull’s and Clare saw fear mar Jesse’s angelic face, despite how hard he tried to look brave. As he pointed for Jesse to go to the car, Clare reached out for one last touch of his hand, one last reminder of how whole and strong they had once felt, but instead her arm was seized by her mother’s bright fingernails as she was wrenched away.


Now the raindrops are fat like Mrs. Cooper’s mole, tiny grenades that explode on the fogged car window by Clare’s face. Outside the small town rolls by like a movie reel. First the old white church where Clare’s parents were married on the first day in June. Then the brick courthouse where they’d gone to file papers that bitter day in February. The graveyard where her grandmother lay. All the colors washed away by the rain, running into the gutter on the side of the street.

“I don’t know where this is coming from Clare, but it needs to stop. I just can’t deal with this right now, with work and…” Clare’s mother pauses and shakes her head, then fixes her eyes steadfastly on the road ahead. “I think it would be best if you go live with your father for a while…”

Something rises up from within her, a tiny monster clawing its way up to her throat. “No! Dad lives two hours away! When will I get to see Jesse?”

Her mother sits back a bit at this first outburst, the first words from her daughter all afternoon. “I…I think it would be best…”

“For who? For me? What the hell makes you think you know what’s best for me? You’ve never cared about me, it’s always been about yourself!”

Her mother’s eyes glower and the muscles in her jaw tense. “This is exactly the disobedience I’m talking about! Now you listen here, that boy has been nothing but trouble for you since you met him! First cutting class, now disrespecting your mother!” The car jerks to a halt in front of their peeling white farmhouse. Clare’s mother turns to her daughter, the fire rekindled in her hazel eyes and a command in her voice. “I don’t want you seeing that boy again!”

Clare feels the blow to her ribs as the air is forced out of her lungs and leaves her mouth gaping. She fumbles with the car door handle before kicking it open. Mud splashes into the sores from sharp blades of grass on her bare legs as she runs through the puddles to the front door, away from those poisonous words. She flies up the wooden stairs and takes two steps to reach the first door on the right before collapsing onto her bed. Her whole body shakes as she watches the pieces of her world around her crumble like a shattered mirror and she struggles to find air in a room that is suddenly under water. A burst of thunder rumbles outside the walls like a ravenous bear and the windows rattle in their panes. Clare hiccups and unburies her face in the old quilt with a jolt. A dull thud and a sharp crunch pierce the sound of her gasps. Her grandmother’s looking glass lies in pieces on the oak floor beneath where it once stood on the nightstand, shattered lightning bolts of silver atop the splintered handle. Clare quietly reaches down and grasps a jagged piece shaped like a knife. The thin blade slides beneath the skin of her thumb as though it were butter and draws a bead of blood, crimson as a rose. The sting is a sweet kiss to take the pain from her heart.

She slowly turns the glass in her hand and gazes at her reflection in the quivering blade.