I heard Clara’s alarm go off in her bedroom. A high-pitched repetition of squeaking and squealing at the foot of her bed. There was a rustle of blankets and some heavy footsteps as she swung herself onto the floor and stood for a moment in the center of the room, blurry-eyed and confused. The noise continued. There was no snooze button. Her guinea pigs were awake and they were dancing for their breakfast, hopping up and down at the edge of their cage, begging for food. I groaned and covered my head, trying to ignore them until my own alarm was set to go off, but after a few minutes, this proved to be impossible. By the time I got to her room, she…