numbers

Numbers

Eight
Common but not too common. Clarissa. Clar-is-sa. Marks. In English, I am Clarissa. Around the world, I am Clarissa. No hidden meanings, no reasons, just Clarissa.
Perhaps my parents are confused. Claire or Sarah? They can’t choose. A compromise is made, and Clarissa becomes my name. Clarissa Marks, leave a mark or don’t even bother living.
Eight letters are all I get. Add on marks and that’s thirteen. But a last name is the last word in the word search you’re too lazy to find. Eight letters to show who I really am. Eight ways to mess it up or to do something amazing, memorable, or legendary. Legend. Six letter. I have two to spare.
Abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyandz. Twenty-six letters in all. Only six unique ones for me. S and a are calling me out for a challenge. I’d like to buy a vowel or spin the wheel, please. X, y, or z? Clair-is-ya or Clair-is-za?
Clarissa pours cement down on your lips, down your face, and through your hips. You fall weakly at the sound of this pitch. Every syllable must sing. Let every letter be heard. And there’s me, Clarissa Marks.
My teachers scream Clarissa Clarissa in the class. Kids whisper about me behind my back. I am what I am. Deal. I’m here to say.
Outside my window, the moon is sleeping wondrous dreams and wishes me to do the same. The summer vacation moon never changes. Tomorrow is the day. The day I start another mission, another little adventure…

Clarissa Marks
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Three
Across the street from me lives Zoe Volts. Her and I have been friends ever since we both understood what are eyes saw day to day. Zoe lives with her two, twin older brothers because her parents are never home to turn the lights off.
They’re probably having dinner right now. A different time zone across the street. Through the vertical blinds, I can see the lights and blurs dancing back and forth. They always try to have dinner in the dinning room. Everything is ok, they’re normal, they’re normal kids…
Zoe cooks dinner every night. The house would be burned to the ground if she didn’t. She’d probably be happy though, could start the house over. The yard is battlefield of holes, and one side definitely lost it big. The paint is crying and the door holds back tears. One of this days though, John and Scott will fix it, will make everything better…
John and Scott are the brothers. Mom and dad must have been home when they were little because the boys don’t miss them much. Zoe must still miss them then. Doubt her parents stayed around when she was little…
Together, you couldn’t tell they all are related. John and Scott are tall, lean trees while Zoe is the little tree for the fat squirrels with bird nests scattered in her hair. Yes, Zoe is the runt of her family. She’s proud of it though. Her and her brothers full of rare pride.
Many in the neighborhood believe the parents abandoned their children. Ran off on a permanent vacation. Zoe believes her parents didn’t abandoned them, but abandoned parent hood. “How can you be abandoned if your parents send money in the mail for you?” Zoe always defends. And probably the only good thing the parents did and ever will do for their children. The three of them are mature. Not a bunch of kids who depend on their parents for everything. I mean, John and Scott are only two years older than Zoe, and anyone could mistake them for being so much older. Comes in handy sometimes… Zoe cooks and buys groceries and the boys pay the bills. The three really don’t need their parents. If their parents ever came home, I doubt it would make a difference in the three’s lives.
Zoe likes to invent. She can make anything out of everything. Her mind sees the world as a giant blueprint, in desperate need of a person like her. Her room is in the basement, full of tools and parts of machines mankind forgot about. A junkyard of history. Zoe, my friend, the inventor, can invent anything except new parents…

Clarissa Marks
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Ten
Friday morning shines her way through my window and settles upon my eyelids. I bounce out of bed, full of the sunlight’s energy. The neighborhood is still asleep though and the birds are trying their gosh darn hardest to wake them up.
After breakfast, I head over to Zoe’s. The door is unlocked; anyone who wants to steal something here would be crazy to take the invitation. John and Scott are going to be bodyguards when they grow up. I just knew it. I let myself in.
Inside, the house is moderately clean. Furniture, worn down with age still manages to live on and on. Stairs lead upstairs to where the twins sleep. The living room is to my right and the dinning and kitchen are to my left. The living room does what it is told; those who are living in the house spend most of their time here. The dinning room hangs on to the smell of last night’s dinner, spaghetti. Pasta night, of course. The kitchen is an organizer’s paradise, with only the sink being filled with dishes that need to be cleaned. Down the hall from the kitchen are where the doors to the basement are and the room. No one has entered the room since the parents left. The door to the room is an ancient one, with a dull lust buried in dust. The final remains of a civilization that once stood long ago…
Down the stairs in the basement is where I find Zoe, crashed on the bed in her dark blue night printed pajamas. Her bed is a futon, and last night she obviously decided to sleep on a couch. “Zoe, Zoe, pull yourself together girl, it’s 10:30 in the morning,” I say, shaking her.
“Yeah, well it’s 3am somewhere in the world…” she mumbles, batting at me. I begin to pull the couch into bed form, when Zoe rolls off. “Alright, I’m up.” Together we head upstairs so Zoe can have breakfast, and I again. The twins are watching TV in the living room. “Bout time you’re up,” says Scott.
“Yeah, we’re practically starving over here,” adds John.
“What’s the matter, you two can’t make cold cereal?” mumbles Zoe in the kitchen.
“If there is anyone who can make things go cold, we believed we should let a professional handle it,” jokes John.
After wrestling the twins for breakfast, Zoe and I head outside to roam the neighborhood. Zoe is still in her pajamas, summer vacationitis. Zoe always had the tendency to catch it more often than me.
Walking along the sidewalk, we stroll by the Frightmen’s residence. The name is right on the money. The two adults in that prison are afraid of anything with more than two legs, and anything that hasn’t be properly sanitized. Poor choice moving to Subview then. They have a son named Oliver, yes; his parents really didn’t give him a chance. Oliver’s head lay flat against his window, as if the window would magically disappear someday. He glasses are slanted and his brown bangs hang over them. I wave at Oliver, “Hey Al!” I shout to the window. Oliver smiles and waves back, and we continue on our way.
“It must suck being locked up there all day,” says Zoe.
“School will start soon, at least he’ll be outside a little for that.”
“That’s sad…”
We walk and walk till we are out of the neighborhood, and walking down the sidewalk, staring into the many windows of the stores we pass. None of these stores matter. I stop in front of the window with the heavenly glow, Mr.Sole’s shoe store. In the window, slapping me in face are the new blue mercurys. Mercury is a brand of shoes that only a few have the power to wear. Luckily, I have kept myself to this standard. “Zoe, I must have them,” I say, hypnotized by the glow.
“Alright, one problem.” Zoe points to the door, where the red bark of the closed sign had bite me. The store opened at night, pretty strange, but the store still had tons of business. I guess the store is run by a bunch of possums. The problem isn’t the fact the store opens at night. It’s the fact my curfew is ten. “Tonight still on?”
“Yeah Zoe, tonight is definitely still on.”

Clarissa Marks
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Two
Clarissa and I are going to sneak up to the store at 10:45, just in case her folks aren’t sure Clarissa is fully asleep yet. We walk down the same sidewalk, staring at the same houses, but with a nighttime twist. Amazing how things look different. Everything now could turn into a monster and eat us. We pass the Frightmen’s house when we hear the noise we wish we hadn’t heard. Out from the bushes came Al. He is still in his pajamas, as am I, but at least mine are fashionable. Clean, pressed, white pajamas. Poor sap. “What are you doing out here, Al? You gonna catch a cold, and there is now way in beep I’m explaining it to your folks,” I say.
“You guys are going to the shoe store? Can I come?”
“No, where did you get an idea like that?” I ask.
“Scott and John let me buy a secrete off of them, only four dollars.”
“Four dollars?” ask Clarissa, turning to me.
“Hey, it splits two ways,” I explained.
“Look, Al, we can’t let you go with us. You’re too little; I don’t want you getting in trouble with your parents and all. It’s not like I don’t want you to come. Maybe we can hang out tomorrow…wait, how did you get out of the house?” ask Clarissa. Al points up to his window, where a conveniently placed rope made out of sheets hangs. I give him an A for sticking with the basics. “Al, you have to go home,” says Clarissa.
“Alright.” Al trudges back to the rope and begins to climb it. Pretty strong for a little, always believed to be sick guy. Once he was in the window, Clarissa waves, and I wave too. Not his fault his parents are nuts. Hope he doesn’t go nuts either. Rash decisions by a kid like him could be deadly.
With Al safe in bed, we track on. In no time flat, we are at Sole’s with Clarissa buying a new pair of Mercurys. Sole is a strange looking man, like one of those guys in the movies you know has a bad history. But nevertheless, he has good shoes.
We leave with our treasure. The walk back home is slower, as Clarissa walks slower to admire the shoes in the box. I think she has a Mercury fetish or something. Who am I to judge? She must have at least ten pairs of those shoes, all in different colors, of course. Waste of money. One pair is all I need. Heck, I’d use that money to buy me a new set of bolts for my drill or a rocket launcher.
Once we hit our street, we stop. Something isn’t right in the air. And the sirens and flashing lights don’t help either. Something is wrong. Clarissa runs through backyards till she’s home. She hides the box behind a broken back step that pulls out. Her parents didn’t have a clue. It is here that we split up. I go home and Clarissa walks out, acting like she just woke up. Well, of course she did. What kind of kid would ever think about disobeying her parents? I stand on the sidewalk with the other onlookers to try to figure out what went wrong. People are getting taller, I swear. I didn’t need to try hard for long. The ambulance finally came. Only in America are the ambulances so slow. It is then that I see Clarissa with her folks. They’re looking at the Frightmens, tears and all. Clarissa’s face is blank, no life once so ever. Her eyes just green marbles. He didn’t.
Scott and John show up and each stands on one side of me, as if making sure I didn’t vaporize into thin air. I rest my head against Scott’s chest. Now, I really know something is wrong.
The stretcher is pulled out and taken to the scene. The car smashed in the tree in front of Mr.H’s yard is still giving off smoke. The stretcher is put back in the ambulance. But they forgot something. On the side of the street lay a pile of twisted wire that was a pair of glasses. Al didn’t listen. He made a rash decision and left his house again after we were far away. Two headlights and Al was gone, along with Clarissa…

Zoe Volts