Survival Of The Fittest

Well, damn.

Ten-year-old Clarice was so very lost, and it was so very dark.

Normally, when her parents were shouting at each other about something or other—and it seemed like that happened a lot lately—Clarice would quietly slip out of the house and go sit down a street or two over, where she couldn't hear them. Normally that was fine. But she hadn't been paying attention that night, and now she was in some neighbourhood she was sure she hadn't seen before, with no clue on which way she came in.

Damn. Damn, damn.

Clarice trotted along, frowning at the unfamiliar houses. This was not good. She couldn't just go knocking on a random stranger's door and asking to use their phone to call her parents. Strangers could be bad. Especially at night. She should have thought this through. Or at least paid attention to where her feet took her. She wasn't frightened, exactly, but she did feel uneasy.

Wait. Wait, wait, wait. She knew that house. She'd never walked there, but it was familiar. She remembered that house when her mother would occasionally drive her to Conrad's, so this way must be…

Clarice sped up, looking at each house. They got slowly more familiar, until she hit the right one. Yeah, that was definitely Conrad's house. And the lights were on in the room she knew to be Conrad's.

Not one to debate action for too long, Clarice trotted around to that window and tapped her knuckles against the window.

"Psst! Conrad! You there?"

Conrad was leaning with his blond hair against the wall, while sitting on his bed. His eyes were fixated on the television. His back was supported by his soft pillows.

Time passed as he watched and nothing unusual happened, until he heard knocks from his window. He was shocked, scared, for a second. Mama warned him about robbers, about bad people, breaking into their house. Never let a stranger into your house, when they knock on the door!

But what about windows? Conrad knew what to do in case that happened. No, not violence. He wouldn't take a book and smash it into a stranger's face. He knew that a kid wasn't as powerful as an adult.

He dreamed, that if something this surreal happened, he would not run away or scream like a baby. No, he would persuade the robber! There's always the good side of people! They probably need money to survive, robbers are probably poor beggars who steal to buy food, to not starve. Conrad could calmly talk to robbers. He could counsel them and maybe, if mum allowed him, lend him money so they can buy food. There was no need to be mean to thieves, when they just did the stealing out of necessity. They are broken people who need help and Conrad would love to help them.

But, fortunately for Conrad, he recognised the voice and it was no stranger at all. So it was no home intruder. He looked at the window...

"Clarice?"

Opening the window to let Clarice, whose face was on the window, in, he was confused.

"What are doing? Why are you here?"

Clarice hoisted herself in through the window with a little 'hup!' She only narrowly avoided knocking over some of the furniture.

"Thanks. It's so dark out there!"

She rocked on her feet a little, considering her answers. Because really, what was she doing here? That was as much a mystery to her as it was to Conrad.

She wasn't really sure how much she was meant to say about what happened at home. She knew rude words turned up in her parent's arguments—she made the mistake of repeating at least one—and she also knew people got super awkward if she talked about it.

Clarice frowned at the wall for a moment. "Oh, I was just… walking. Walks are awesome. So's jogging. But I got lost and I didn't want to go knocking on random doors, because that's how people get kidnapped."

She fiddled with her fingers for a moment, looking around. She noticed the television was on and zoned in on that instead.

"Ooh, whatcha watching?"

"I am watching James Bond!", Conrad happily exclaimed. He offered a pillow next to him for her to lean on. "Come, sit here!"

She apparently...jogged? Walked? Now? Conrad doubted that. He could not believe her to walk at this time alone. No sane parent would allow that. At least he wouldn't as a dad.

Oh, kidnapping. Right, yeah it was not safe in Kingman to go out at this time. His dad said that people kidnap people to steal organs to sell them. That was mean and greedy. And it was a horrible thought of it happening.

He did not look at the TV any longer, but looked at Clarice instead. She was lost and couldn't find home. He had to tell that mum and dad, then!

"Maybe we can tell my parents to call your parents, because. Because you are lost."

"Nice. Scooch over."

Clarice sat down on the bed, curling up her legs and wrapping her arms around her legs. She was always up for any film-watching, even if she wasn't that much a fan of James Bond in particular.

"And yeah, I was lost, but I'm not lost now! I mean, I'm here and all. Uh... don't have to call my parents yet, though. They're probably busy."

Clarice had figured out, through careful observation, that sometimes telling people about the things her parents said to each other was a terrible idea. Her mother, in particular, had a tendency to swear a lot, and sometimes words that Clarice was never, EVER to repeat happened. She still wasn't sure what a 'cunt' was, but she wasn't allowed to say that. Her mother had been very specific about it. Even if she left out the swearing, bringing it up always made things awkward and it never actually helped.

"I mean, maybe calling my parents eventually would be a good idea. Just not right now. Or I can just sleep on your floor! That'd be fun." It'd probably be a lot quieter.

After scooching to the side, Conrad listened to Clarice.

She didn't want to call her parents. But he really had to tell mom. Or else she'd be mad if she found out that somebody went into his room without her knowing.

So Clarice suggested either to call the parents later, or for her to sleepover.

Conrad had no idea what to do, as he never thought of this happening. Home intruders, yes. But a friend of him coming to his house during the night? Definitely not.

"I guess...you should do whatever you think would be the best idea."

He did not want to be mean by sending her out of his house, but he didn't want her to sleep on the floor.

Floors aren't as soft as beds.

"I mean, if you want, you can sleep in my bed and I could sleep on the couch in the living room."

"Floors are fine, though. It's good to sleep on a hard surface sometimes. I think. I read that somewhere, maybe." As if to prove her point, Clarice climbed off the bed to lie on the floor. "Yeah, this is a comfy floor. Besides, I can't just kick you out of your bed. I'm not a jerk."

She tucked her hands under her head and stared at the ceiling. Maybe she was being a bit ridiculous, starting a sleepover so abruptly. And if she stayed here all night, her parents might get worried once they noticed she was gone.

"You're right, though. I probably should call my parents. They don't even know I left the house. Just… aaagh."

She flopped her arms back, spreading them across the floor, before looking at Conrad. She could probably tell him about the fighting, right? They'd known each other for aaaaages. So it probably wouldn't be too weird.

"Do your parents ever shout at each other? I mean, I heard all parents do that, but if they do I don't know how anyone else stands it."

Beds were more comfortable than floors. Conrad knew that, at least. Okay, maybe it was good to sleep on hard surface. People did that before beds were invented, after all. And Clarice was also a bit a native american and they had no beds in their tents either.

Clarice seemed to be sad and confused, as the 'walking thing' was apparently a lie (surprise!). She escaped her house without her parents knowing.

"Yeah, sometimes they shout at each other. Everybody does. I mean, if you live with a person for a long time, it's normal to get into fights."

Hmm, but now that he thought of it, the last occurence of his parents fighting was some time ago. What was more common...

"My parents don't have time to shout at each other, though. They are too busy at shouting at me and my siblings."

Hmm, did that help?

"Uh, and you get used to it, I suppose. That's a way to stand it. Though it's absolutely annoyyying."

He tried to smile. No, he smiled to try to make her less sad.

"That doesn't sound good either," Clarice said in response to Conrad's comments about him and his siblings getting yelled at. She didn't get yelled at much. Sometimes she got into arguments with her parents, but they weren't the sorts of screaming matches her parents got into by themselves. "Do your parents shout at you? Like, scolding or actual 'shouting' shouting?"

Clarice folded her arms underneath her head, frowning at the ceiling, before looking at Conrad.

"I just don't get it. Why would anyone marry someone that they do nothing but shout at? That's not what love is meant to be, is it? Some arguing, sure, but..."

She trailed off.

"...It's stupid, anyway. Sorry for dropping this on you. Awkward, huh?"

Conrad had to think. He really had to. These were hard questions. He waited, till he thought of a reply.

"Sometimes they scold, sometimes they scream. Depends on how serious our actions are."

Why marry somebody you scream at? That is a tough one.

"Uh, no, it's no problem to talk with me about it. That is a very interesting thing to talk about. Uhm, but I honestly don't know the answer, though. Like, I'd never scream at the person I love...Maybe it's just a bad day for both of them? You know that when you have bad mood and want to be a sour person?"

"Every day is a bad day, then. Why would every day be a bad day?"

After all, every day was different. Maybe she could say they hated their work, but Dad liked being a firefighter and Mom didn't have a job. So, really, the only consistent thing was each other. And Clarice.

Clarice sat up and pulled her legs closer to her chest, frowning.

...Was Clarice the bad thing?

Was it all the running off whenever she saw something interesting? All the times she used to punch other kids when she got into fights with them? She knew not to punch kids anymore, and she tried not to randomly run off but sometimes there were interesting things in the way that her parents weren't going and who was she kidding she had literally run off in the last half an hour that's why she was here--

Maybe normally she could consider this properly, realise there might be other factors. But she was cold, and her feet hurt, and all the things her parents yelled at each other were going through her head.

So instead she started crying. She tried not to show it, turning her face away, but she couldn't hide the shaking shoulders or the little hitches in her breathing.

That was awkward. Clarice had this- oh, she was...crying?

She was. Conrad could not just sit there and stare. He sat up, went to Clarice and hugged her. To her ears, quietly he said:

"...It will be okay. Tell me what happened."

This was not a random visit of Clarice to his house. This was serious. Conrad was scared.

She shouldn't be crying. She wasn't supposed to cry. Crying was for babies. Not tough wrestlers like herself. She was meant to be super strong like those guys on the television, not like… this.

The hugging was nice, though. Comforting. Clarice sniffled and returned the hug, trying not to accidentally wipe her nose on his clothes.

Conrad was listening, he said he wanted to listen, and it was just nice to have someone who actually wanted to listen. It wasn't like she could tell her parents this, even if she could get the words out over the shouting. What was she supposed to tell them?

"I… I did tell you what happened. They were shouting. They're always shouting. It used to just be like every week or so but now it's almost every day, they can't have one damn conversation without it turning into screaming arguments of things that happened forever ago! Or it's about Dad never visiting family, or Mom visiting family too much, or about chores that weren't done or 'why are you giving me that look' or—it's just everything! They can't talk without raising their voices!

"It's just… so… noisy." Clarice wiped her eyes and nose, before wiping her hands off on her pants. "Shouldn't hurt. I thought it was supposed to be, y'know… 'sticks and stones may break my bones, but…' I mean, the words aren't even aimed at me."

They still hurt a lot, though.

"I just… I don't want to go home yet. Soon. Just not yet."

That was terrible to hear. Conrad was happy that his parents did not argue that often. Did not argue every day. It was hard to imagine for him.

"I'm sorry..."

He had no idea what to say. He was overchallenged. That was a problem with no solution. Talk with the parents, maybe. Make them like each other more. Conrad wanted to say that things like arguing about the small stuff like chores is normal. But that was the problem of the problem, wasn't it? Arguing about everything, including the small things.

"You can stay here for as long as you wish."

"Thanks..."

Clarice wiped her nose again before wrapping one arm around Conrad and turning the hug into a brief noogie. A half-hearted one, mostly there to convince Conrad that everything was fine. Then she shifted away and back towards the television.

"...Okay, I haven't seen this James Bond before. How long's it got until the end?"

Maybe she could just stay until the end of the movie.