Glitches (Book 1)

Chapter 1: Claire

The picture on this chapter is Claire when she was younger.

....................

Ten years ago...

I scratched at my neck, trying in vain to get the coagulating clumps of sticky moisture off my upper back as I flipped through a picture book. The heat of the sultry summer day felt like a physical entity, seeping through my clothes and into my bones. Even with two fans on and my feet in a bucket of cold water, my skin ached for relief from the penetrating rays of the sun.

Almost like an answer to my prayers, my mom instantly popped her head through the door of the room I shared with my four-year-old brother, Justin.

"This heat is killing me," she shook her head, wiping the sweat off her brow. "How would you two like a quick trip to the pool?"

"Pool?" Justin, who had been obliviously playing with a toy train, looked up, suddenly interested.

"Let's go to the pool!" we simultaneously yelled, running up to Mom. I straightened my back proudly, displaying my newfound height. If I kept growing at this rate, I would come up to Mom's shoulders by my seventh birthday!

"Wow, you guys are excited," she laughed, clapping her hands. "Come on!"

Neither of us could wait to be in the water. Stuffing our personalized towels into bags, we put on our flip-flops and rushed to the door.

"Look at that butterfly!" I yelled excitedly, pointing out the window, once we were in the car. "Look at the green numbers. They're controlling its flight! It's so pretty!"

A large monarch butterfly that looked to be about the size of my palm flitted around above a brightly colored sunflower that rose from a patch of grass to the right of the road. Every pattern on its brilliant, orange and black wings was outlined by thin lines of glowing, green letters, numbers, and symbols. The symbols on each wing were identical to those on the other, making the two sides of the butterfly exact mirror images of each other.

The numbers were not stationary, which further added to their ability to mesmerize my six-year-old self. They moved up and down in never ending circles, as if some invisible person was eternally scrolling through them.

"What green numbers?" Mom frowned.

Frustration filled my young mind as the object of my fascination was once again discredited. I found myself unable to wrap my developing brain around the fact that something that was so important to me did not even exist in the eyes of others. It was in moments like those that I felt truly alone- robbed of the sense of togetherness and community that most humans knew and loved. Though the numbers were not particularly significant to my own life, they were such a basic and essential part of my day to day existence that not being able to discuss them with anyone but myself was downright infuriating.

"You know...the little floaty numbers and letters. They're on everything!" I said with as much conviction as I could muster, hoping with all my might that, finally, my mother would see what I saw. While I waited for her response, I looked out the window, marveling at the gorgeous, intricate patterns of green digits that filled the landscape outside. Even though I saw them every second of my life, I never tired of them. They added color and flavor to what was otherwise dull and mundane. They were the wonder, the beauty, and the imagination in a world that was all hard, dry reality.

"Oh," she sighed. "We've talked about this before, Claire. Your pretend numbers aren't real!"

This statement went straight to my heart, sending a pang of pain through my chest. They were real. I could see them! I saw them as clearly as I saw anything else! There were thousands of them, floating above the treetops, in Justin's hair, and in my fishbowl.

Despite the fact that they blended in quite well with whatever setting they were placed in, even my six-year-old mind could deduce that they weren't randomly spread out. They always formed patterns. These geometric, usually linear arrangements were quite similar to those of the computer code I often watched my dad working with on his laptop.

Yes!

An epiphanic realization dawned upon me. I would call the numbers the Floaty Computer.

After all, it made sense. My dad's numbers appeared on the screen of his computer, while mine floated in the air around me. The Floaty Computer's newfound appellation filled me with a strange sense of confidence in what I saw. The fact that the numbers now had a proper name made them seem more real.

Don't worry, Floaty Computer. I know you're there.

If the Floaty Computer had any kind of reaction to the mental assurance I had granted it, it didn't show it.

"Okay guys, we're almost there!" My mom smiled, looking back at us from the front of the car. She faked enthusiasm, but the part of the Floaty Computer that spelled her emotions out across her face didn't lie. I knew that she was actually exhausted.

That was one of the many things I liked about the Floaty Computer. It was honest. And, unlike people, it understood. It didn't tell me what it thought; it told me what was. My family lied to me, trying to convince me that the Floaty Computer didn't exist, but the Floaty Computer itself, on the other hand, never attempted to persuade me of anything. It told me what I needed to know, and nothing else. It was the perfect companion. My only friend.

Yet, sometimes, when they're really good, one friend is enough.

After we pulled into the parking lot, all thoughts of the Floaty Computer and the question of its existence began to fade from my mind, replaced by more immediate excitement regarding my imminent trip to the pool.

Justin and I excitedly hopped out of the car and got our towels out of the trunk. Mine was pink and sported my name, Claire, with a flower underneath it. His was orange, with a couple of legos under his name.

As soon as we had them in our hands, we began to run, zooming past our parents, through the gate and into the water. Consumed by our childish glee, we didn't even bother to take our shoes off.

I immediately headed for the big, red waterslide, running to the top and letting the current of water, driven, as usual, by Floaty Computer numbers, carry me gently back into the water. No events of particular significance took place until my third time on the waterslide, at the end of which I began to hear my brother's voice coming in the distance. Curious as to whom he was speaking to, I raised my head, searching with my eyes in the direction of the voice.

Justin had spotted some of his friends.

It was not this coincidence itself that alarmed me, but the fact that the group of boys was on the deeper side of the pool. It was the place our parents had specifically told us not to go. After all, neither of us were very good swimmers, and it was better to be safe than sorry. Before I could remind Justin of the rule, however, he was already jogging over to them.

"Hey, guys!" he waved happily.

"Hey, Justin," came their unsynchronized replies.

"Come on, let's go!" said the de facto leader of the group, a blond six-year-old with a wide grin, gesturing to the water. He jumped in, and was quickly followed by the rest of the boys.

All except Justin.