The Evolution of Normal

Chapter 4

It was a good morning. I woke up, for once, on the right side of the bed. It was the only time since being bitten. Not a day have I woken since in a decent mood, and that makes me bitter. But anyway, it was a good morning, the last week of winter break of my eleventh year of school. Now, this was before I had changed at all physically from the venom. It was cold and snowy. The winters in Seattle often brought snow, Mom and Dad always said it hardly ever did before the eruption. I awoke with the covers over my head, warm and I had pleasant dreams. I was refreshed and surprised at this. Without grumbling or dread, I pulled the covers off, shivering before I wrapped myself in my robe. I went into the bathroom and relieved myself. My hair was a tangle of brown. It had pieces that were sticking sideways and pieces that were sticking almost vertical. It was quite comical. Turning the light off, I walked downstairs and got a bowl from the cabinet. I set it on the counter as I looked for a cereal I wanted to eat. Of course, I didn't want anything we had. I was starting to grumble and tastefully think about how I wanted to rip someone's spine out when my thoughts were cut off.

"Good morning, Chlo." It was my mom. Only she called me Chlo.

"Hey Mom. How are you?" Normally, we didn't converse in the morning. Normally, I didn't ask her how she was. She seemed surprised I still cared about her. She seemed pleased.

"I'm good. How did you sleep?"

"Great," I said.

"Good to hear it."

Things were never right between us after I was bit. She didn't believe my spider story. But she could tell I was different somehow. She knew I wasn't the Chloe she raised. I could sense the fear. I could sense the loathe she had for how I was acting. For what I was becoming. No matter how small, or even trivial, a feeling it was, I could sense it. How sad that would make me.

I looked back to the cereals. Sighing, I settled on Life. I poured my milk, grabbed a spoon, and sat at the table. Scotty, our dog, trotted into the kitchen. He came up to me, tail wagging. I shook my head and started petting him. He was a strange dog, a Terrier mutt, black and white with one brown paw. He was always trying to play and always in my way, begging for attention constantly. I really didn't like Scotty. After petting him resentfully I went back to my cereal, ignoring him. I don't like Life cereal, I realized then. I stood and dumped the rest down the sink, washing out my bowl. Mom looked at me pointedly. If I were normal, she would have said something. She would have chided me for wasting cereal. I didn't care. I wasn't normal. She knew I would probably yell at her if she said something, so she stayed quiet.

"I hate Life," I said, turning and laughing, looking at Mom. It took her a minute to get it, but then she laughed, too. It was funny. I've always liked puns. Looking back, that was the only real connection me and my mother shared after I had changed.

The morning went by without event. I got dressed, did a few chores. My Dad was at work, so it was pretty boring for most of the day. He wouldn't get home until six, at the earliest. It was only eleven, so I grabbed a book and fell onto my favorite chair by the fireplace. After an hour, I looked up and rubbed my eyes. That was enough reading for the day. I set the book in my lap, stretched my arms. Scotty was sitting by the chair, looking up at me expectantly and whining. I really didn't like that dog. He was needy, annoying, and pissed on the carpet constantly. I kicked at him as I stood. He jumped back, getting out of my way. I walked upstairs to my room and laid on my bed. I had a TV, though I didn't like watching it. But I watched it anyway, there was nothing else to do. I ended up drifting into a pleasant sleep.

I heard a strange and horribly infuriating noise. I opened my eyes. The stupid dog was standing on my bed—standing on me—and looking expectantly at me. As if I owed him something. He was whining, howling, and barking at me. I shoved him off my bed. He landed on his feet, of course, and kept yelping at me from the floor. I gritted my teeth and sat up.