PROLOGUE
Claire Ortega was, in the eyes of everyone, a model child. Her parents were aware of that. They had made sure of that. Throughout their lives, Andrew and Hannah Ortega had done everything society expects from a human being born into a nice family: they had finished high school, started dating during their first year at college, graduated without difficulty, got good jobs, got married, got their own house and had Claire; and Eddie and Frankie a few years later. Nobody would dare contradict anyone who said the Ortegas were the perfect family. Both parents made sure to make breakfast for their kids and together, as a family, enjoyed the beginning of a new day. With plenty of time before work, Andrew got in the family vehicle, ready to drop off Claire, Eddie, and Frankie at school. Then, he dropped his wife off at the clinic where she worked as a doctor, to then go to the Channel 4 building, where he worked as a reporter. The only moment where the perfect family routine broke was at the time the kids got out of school. Claire and her brothers made their way back home with Kristian’s mother; Kristian being one of Claire’s best friends and, luckily, her neighbor. At Kristian’s, Claire and her brothers could do their homework and play (always behaving exceptionally well) until Claire’s parents would pick them up to begin their afternoon routine. Of course, they all had dinner together and, when finished, Andrew and Hannah made time to help their kids with their homework so that they could later have a good time in the living room watching the afternoon news or a TV show. Eddie and Frankie, being six-year-olds, enjoyed their simple lives with no worries. But Claire, being ten, was aware of how lucky she was. She had gotten a good family. At school, one could see students with different stories and varied backgrounds. Claire knew students from other classes who were not as lucky as she was. Some came from poor families, others had alcoholic or drug addict parents, others received free beatings courtesy of several relatives, and some others had won the big one and suffered from everything. Oh, yes. Dad had done an exceptional job, Claire thought. “Public schools offer a complete vision of the crude reality, Claire,” her father said. And as far as she could see, it was true. She had seen everything, and that’s why she knew she was lucky. She had a roof, food for every moment of the day, and a family that loved her. Yes, lucky. And the little ten-year-old, who in the eyes of everyone was a model child, knew how to be thankful. She always helped her father doing whatever he needed, she always helped her mother doing whatever she needed, and she always played with her brothers whenever they wanted. She dedicated a considerable portion of her day to study, and her grades were almost impeccable. Since her first year at school, Claire had always won consecutively and unanimously the award for best classmate. In the eyes of her classmates, nobody was friendlier than Claire, always lending her materials and helping others with the difficult contents. In the eyes of the teachers, nobody was a better student than Claire, always participating in class and doing her homework diligently. Claire Ortega was, in the eyes of everyone, a model child.
Now, Claire was just leaving school after a pretty uneventful day. To her right, she was holding Frankie’s hand, to her left she was holding Eddie’s. Next to the three of them, Kristian was skipping lines on the sidewalk. The kids were under Kristian’s mother’s care, on the way to her house.
“What game are we gonna play today, Kris?” Claire asked, rolling her eyes, anticipating what her friend’s answer would be.
“A war game, of course!” Kristian exclaimed with a loud volume. He always overacted that part, according to Claire; although Jonathan, their other best friend, disagreed.
“But we always play those! It’s not fair!” Claire voiced, with a perfect tone of contained frustration suddenly being freed, for which she allowed herself a faint little smile.
“Kristian, don’t be like that. You know…” his mother intervened with a warning.
“Fine… We’ll play your stupid dance game. But we’ll take turns!” the boy conceded.
So, it’s a dance game now, Claire thought. Kristian had taken some creative liberties with that day’s script.
The group stopped at a corner, waiting for the streetlight to change. Claire started tapping her shoe on the sidewalk impatiently, but unnoticed. Lately, she had been feeling hyperactive. She didn’t have to look at Kristian’s feet to know he was doing the same thing with his shoe. It had already been a month. The group was waiting patiently when a sedan car appeared, dashing through the street.
“Good lord, where’s a cop when you need one?” Kristian’s mother said, making both kids smile.
The wheels were rolling furiously on the pavement, emitting a sound that would have woken up the entire neighborhood at night. The driver had the obvious intention of crossing the intersection in the exact second the traffic light turned its yellow light into a red one. The man in the fancy car lowered his sight to his right, divorcing his eyes from the road, to check what was probably his cellphone. A text. A notification. A tweet. Or, simply, the anxiety of not having a screen in front of his eyes for the past half-hour, which was common in the humans of the new times. Claire looked to her right and saw Frankie, who looked back at her with an innocent smile. The girl smiled back to then look to her left. Eddie was distracted by a stray dog pooping near a bush. Oh, it’d be so easy, she thought. With any of them. The two boys had a blind trust in the protective hands of their sister. It would only take a second. A pull. And then the windshield of the car would turn red. A deadly red. If it wasn’t because Claire was a decent lady, her mouth would have given away the fact that she was salivating. The girl looked at her best friend and found him concentrated with his eyes between the car and the dog in the bush, lost in his own fantasies, which weren’t very different from Claire’s. A dog, the girl thought, snorting. Kristian had always been known for lacking… sophistication. Well, she reminded herself that it had been a month. The car with the distracted driver crossed the intersection three seconds after the light turned red and the group led by Kristian’s mom carried on with no worries.
A few miles from Kristian’s home, Claire looked to the blue house that was two houses down from his best friend’s. It was their Spanish teacher’s house. The girl, who had been around a week with the thirst, smiled. Claire, who in the eyes of everyone was a model child, started to come up with a plan.
