Snippet #1173722

Claudia sat Indian-style in an armchair, slumped over her guitar, her fingers strummed absentmindedly on the strings. The simplicity of the notes and vibrations from the instrument soothed her in times of chaos and confusion, of which there were many in the Warehouse. Guitar was her vice like technology was her vice. If she strummed string one, she would get an E. And if she didn’t, by turning the tuning pegs at the top of the neck she could either make it more sharp or more flat until it was an E. No confusing, emotional decisions. Just turn the peg left or right. Strum the string. Wha-la, problem solved.

Life might be confusing. But guitar—like math and technology—would always be as plain and simple as guitar.

In fact, no. Life was confusing. There was no confusion about that matter, for Claudia. The Warehouse was still the Warehouse. Todd was still gone. And now Myka had run out on them. For Claudia, it felt worse than that. It felt like Myka had run out on her. Yeah, she knew the whole team was hurting. No one knew how to respond to it. Artie had been even more irritable ever since the initial reading of the letter. Pete was just…lost. Yet Claudia felt personally abandoned. For the first time, she allowed herself to admit—if only to herself—that Myka had been the closest thing she had to a big sister. Myka had comforted her and given her advice and aid in times when it seemed like no one really cared. Now she was gone. Claudia felt betrayed.

Strumming harder, Claudia dropped her head, letting her red hair fall into her eyes. Looking out, past the streak of deep, plum purple amidst the ginger, Claudia found her eyes burning. She let her hands fall limp on the guitar and shut her eyes tight, refusing to let any tears seep through. She was done being a baby and crying about it. Myka was gone; that was her own damn choice.

“CLAUDIA!”

Her head snapped upright again at the sound of Artie’s voice booming from another part of the Warehouse. She quickly brushed any moisture from her eyes and lifted the guitar from her lap, setting it aside before leaping to her feet. Trotting toward the source of the grouchy alarm, Claudia found Artie sitting at the computer, staring dumbfounded at the screen, which was practically going berserk. It flashed like crazy and the “ping” alarm continued to sound. It would sound ten times before pausing and sounding another ten times. She could do nothing but gawk at the screen, her eyes wide and her mouth ajar.

“That’s not good.”