In the Image of Grace (22 page)

I tried to open my eyes, but my whole head pounded. I
had absolutely no concept of what time it was, or where I even was.
I couldn’t feel the ground, that’s if I was on the ground at all.
If I was in my bed I couldn’t feel my pillow. I just felt the
beating of the drum that somebody put in my head. I lay there
trying to remember anything. I remembered being at the warehouse,
on stage, the crowd and then taking the microphone and saying
something. Then after that it went straight to the pounding.

I started to hear something between the beats;
voices, my sisters’ voices perhaps. Then I felt something on my
back. My back which I didn’t even realize was there because I was
so focused on trying to get away from the pounding. It felt like a
hand, a nice warm palm, with the gentlest of touch. “Charlotte,” I
heard behind the drum. Then I heard it again and again, “Charlotte,
Charlotte.” The Charlotte started getting louder and the beating of
the drum started to quite down some and I fluttered my eyes open. I
blinked hard a couple times to try to clear my vision of the fog I
was looking through. Up close was Isabelle’s face. She was lying
next to me and I’m pretty sure that was her hand on my back.

“Charlotte,” she bleated with great excitement.

“Huh,” was all I had in me at that moment. I was
lying on my stomach, on my bed, with my head turned to the side. I
pressed the side of my face into my pillow.

“Thank God you’re okay,” Isabelle sighed giving me a
wonderfully warm smile.

“What time is it?”

“It’s the morning. We’re supposed to be getting
ready. I was told to come and wake you up.”

“What!” I shouted or attempted to shout. It actually
came out quite quiet. I sat up and almost tipped over.

“Careful,” Isabelle said steadying me by the
shoulder.

“What happened?” I asked grabbing my head in both my
hands. I was spinning like crazy.

Isabelle grinned. “I was so proud of you, but Mr.
Carl stopped you short.”

“How,” I inquired realizing that there was also a
small throbbing in the back of my neck.

“He stuck you in the neck with something, stopped you
mid sentence. I guess they were prepared for that situation.”

“How did I get here?”

“Somehow Mr. Carl made it look very natural. He said
something about you being nervous and a little confused and led you
right off stage. He then carried you and stuck you in the car. He
just laid you across one of the seats and when we got home he
carried you inside and plopped you on the bed. He said you were
going to be okay and said, “Let that be a lesson for the two of
you.” Like he was threatening us. I guess we’re supposed to keep
our mouths shut.”

I rubbed my hands over my face. “When will this all
end?”

“Not soon enough,” Isabelle moaned picking at a
string on my comforter. “Before school we’re going to a press
conference. At least that’s what Ms. Dunderfeltz says. A car will
be here to pick us up.”

“Serious?” I asked just in case Isabelle somehow
contracted an odd sense of humor.

“Yes.”

I lay back down on my pillow. “Oh God,” I cried. “All
this craziness just brings us further away from finding out answers
about our mother.”

Isabelle’s face lit up for some reason. As if not
finding answers was a good thing. “This came for us,” she chirped
reaching to the foot of the bed and grabbing something.

She handed me what she grabbed. It was a small
envelope, white and about the size of an invitation. “Are we
invited to a birthday party?” I asked.

“Just open it.”

I opened it and inside was a piece of stationary
paper folded in half. I unfolded it and a picture fell out. It was
wallet sized and looked like a school photo. Our mother’s beautiful
teenage face smiled at me.

“Helen sent it to us. She says hopefully we’ll be
able to get together again soon and that picture is when our mother
was sixteen.”

“Just like me,” I beamed holding the photo carefully
in my fingers. It seemed so precious. I didn’t want to endanger it
at all with a grip that was too tight. “It’s me. It’s us.”

“It’s just like a photo of you Charlotte. Look she’s
even wearing a gray sweater. That kind of made me laugh,” Isabelle
said softly.

“This is wonderful. We’ll have to send Helen a thank
you card.”

“Most definitely.”

“Hey, where’s Clarissa?” I asked noticing her absence
from my room.

“She’s primping. Going to be on camera and all, says
she has to look her best.”

“Can we pretend that you can’t wake me up?” I asked
hopeful.

Isabelle shook her head. “Mr. Carl seems to know the
lasting effects of whatever it was he gave you because he did
assure me that you were going to be okay by morning.”

“Well pooh,” I groaned in frustration.

“Oh, Jeremy called you a couple times,” Isabelle
informed me. “I checked your phone because I heard it ring. I
answered it the second time. I hope you don’t mind. I filled him in
on what was happening.”

“Thanks.”

“He sounded really pissed over what Mr. Carl did to
you. I told him you would be okay, but he still sounded really
worried.”

“Girls,” we heard from downstairs. “The car will be
here shortly,” Ms. Dunderfeltz yelled.

“Great,” I sighed wincing, noticing that the drum was
still beating, but at least I didn’t wake up with screaming in my
head.

“Want me to get you something for that?” Isabelle
asked getting up.

“If you can, please,” I said rubbing my temples.

Isabelle left to find something for my head. I slowly
got off my bed and headed to my dresser to find something to wear.
I pulled out some jeans, a tee-shirt and a cardigan. The cardigan
was my version of dressing up. I put the picture of our mother in
my pocket. Isabelle then came back with something for my head and I
thanked her till there was no end. Then we met up with Clarissa in
the hall and went to meet the mob and all.

We pulled on our coats, hats and bags and went out
the front door. I felt like crap. The drum still beat in my head,
but I almost didn’t mind it that much since the screaming was
silenced.

There were rough waves outside in the flood. People
shouted things and others reached their hands through the fence. It
seemed like that morning they were all trying to get us. The
current was strong, but I was going to try to not let it pull us
under.

“Ignore them,” I whispered to Clarissa and Isabelle
as we neared the gate. I held a sister in each hand. Mr. Carl
appeared out of the crowd and cleared space so we could open the
gate. I gave him a scowl as we walked through the gate and he
parted the sea.

“A little faster girls,” he urged.

Cameras were closing in on us. I didn’t want it to
seem like I was listening to Mr. Carl, but we needed to get into
the safety of the car. While I was mad at the car for where it was
taking us I was also grateful that it swallowed us up and was
driving us away from the tumultuous waters. I petted the smooth
leather seat thanking it. We were being driven downtown. I closed
my eyes the whole ride, even with what Isabelle gave me for my head
it still pounded.

It didn’t take too long to get where we were going,
rush hour traffic hadn’t kicked into full swing yet. We pulled up
in front of one of the fancy downtown hotels where the crowds
awaited. Getting out of the car and walking into the hotel was
pretty much the same, people screaming questions, microphones
shoved in our faces, cameras staring at us. Only difference was
that it was unseasonably warm. As we walked into the hotel I pulled
off my hat. Mr. Carl guided us to a room where we waited and it was
all pretty much the same as the day before. I made a decision to
keep my mouth shut that morning.

After a while the three of us were shuffled into an
expansive room with large crystal chandeliers and finely, carved
crown molding and textured fabric on the walls. Reginald was behind
a podium with microphones all over it and all the sharks were in
the audience waiting. The water was slightly calmer for many of
them sat.

Everybody was dressed in nice suits and skirts and
sat with their hands in their laps and for a moment they looked
calm. Then once Reginald started excepting questions the sharks got
hungry and they all fought against each other trying to get their
question in. We sat on folding chairs off to the side of the stage
with our ankles crossed and our backs straight, looking like proper
young ladies. I was still in somewhat of a fog, so I just kind of
went along. I looked over at my sisters. Isabelle nervously bopped
up and down in her seat. She dressed accordingly. She wore a
buttoned down shirt and slacks. Clarissa looked perfect with every
hair in place, but her face was a pale shade of white. There was
security all around, but we still didn’t feel safe sitting there.
It seemed like everybody in the world wanted at us.

It all kind of went with a blur, but pretty much what
we already knew was answered. I perked up when somebody asked about
Grace. Reginald skirted around that one and somehow ended up
talking about ethnic makeup. I actually found out something new
then. I knew we were half Filipino and for the other half I always
said German and Polish because that’s what Reginald was, but then I
forgot to consider that he actually did not contribute to our
genetic makeup, so Robert gave us the Filipino and Helen gave us
Dutch and Norwegian, it explained our extremely pale skin.

A lot of the questions had to do with ethics or
bioethics as many called it. Others asked what gave him the right
to play God and some were concerned with our development as
individuals, were we exactly alike, or were we able to become our
own separate persons. Some of the questions were about how we felt
about being clones, how were we dealing with all the pressure, were
we going to do our own interviews and so on and so forth. Pretty
much Reginald said we were happy well adjusted individuals and we
were doing fine with everything. Besides the people that belonged
to The Children of Grace, nobody ever mentioned Elizabeth, not just
at that moment in particular, but not on any of the previous days.
It was like she never existed. She was flawed. I guessed word of
that couldn’t get out since supposedly we were perfect and all.

………………………………………………

After the press conference, which I’m sure aired on
every single television station worldwide, we were dumped at
school. Since the press conference was so early we only missed the
first class. Word was floating about the halls. It seemed more so
than the days before. I heard some girls arguing if we were
actually that perfect. One of them said she actually didn’t think
we were that pretty. Maybe she was right, but she seemed to be in
the minority on that one. Some kids near my locker were trying to
dissect the process in which we were made. They didn’t really seem
to care that I was standing next to them. I slammed my locker. They
shut up.

In division I slumped in a desk next to Rain, who had
a look of sympathy on her face. “How ya doin,” she asked cringing
as if it was a painful question to ask.

“Getting by I guess,” I replied rubbing the sore spot
on my neck.

“I listened to the press conference on the radio this
morning on the way to school. It’s a lot to take in. I can’t even
begin to imagine how it is for you,” Rain said giving me a
comforting smile.

“Yeah,” I sighed with my mind kind of wandering off.
How it was for me.

How was it possible that my sisters and I were
individuals, were we? I thought we were, but maybe that’s because
we developed our sense of self before we knew we were clones. Were
we being held to some kind of standard that would stand in the way
of our individuality? Were people expecting us to be any different
or better than the average teenager? Then I was thinking about how
most normal people are conceived. Conceived, that was the big word.
We really weren’t. We were copied and that genetic material was
then stuck in an egg from our mother and then placed in somebody’s
uterus. That wasn’t being conceived, that wasn’t how human life was
to begin, and so once again I was back to what did that make us? If
there was a God did we not count because neither he nor nature made
us? Rain was right. It was a lot to take in.

………………………………………….…..

During study hall I went and sought out the in-school
suspension classroom because that was where Jeremy was. I stared
with the main hall on the first floor, looking in all the windows
to the doors to the classrooms, or just through the open classroom
doors. After the main hall turned up empty I went down the hall
that ran down the right hand side of the school. I got to the very
end and did not find what I was looking for, but at the end of that
hallway to the right was a short hallway and the last door on that
hallway was it. I wasn’t supposed to be there because I wasn’t in
in-school suspension and the kids in there weren’t to socialize
with the ones who weren’t, but I figured why not. I quietly walked
into the classroom.

The classroom had about fifteen kids in it which all
looked half asleep. Many had their foreheads propped in their hands
looking as if they were reading, a couple just had their heads on
their desks, and one had his mouth hanging slightly with his head
bent back, which was Jeremy, so needless to say nobody seemed to
notice me when I came in the room, not even the teacher that was in
there at the time. He was busy reading some fantasy novel with a
picture of a woman with super long red wavy hair and a mermaid on
the front cover.

I did a fake clearing of my throat and the teacher
looked up. He had a bushy tan mustache and some hair sticking out
of his nose. He didn’t say anything. He just looked at me, like how
dare you interrupt my story.