The Iceberg Tipping
Lucky.
“Emma, honey, you should eat some cake,” her mother’s voice was the softest. It should have soothed her like a warm blanket and fond memories. Birthday cake was on the table in front of her and she vaguely remembered a friend telling her how lucky she was to even get one. Last year her parents had forgotten, she’d mumbled and kicked a rock. Emma had placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled, ‘I remembered, Hanna.’ They’d hugged and promised to meet up later for cake and ice cream in the club house.
indent Emma wasn’t hungry. She was still thinking about why she couldn’t be the one with the issues, but was startled to find how odd of a thought that really was. She shook her head towards her mother before lying about feeling sick and slipping her way back into her attic room. An only child, she was, and so lucky.
indent Luck had nothing to do with it, she pushed her bangs out of her face. “Full fringe,” she muttered, angrily shoving the hair so it was back laying against her forehead. She tugged at them, puling them straight and in front of her eyes. The rest of her hair was choppy and not long enough past her shoulders. She internally promised not to go back to the same little shop later, but she knew she would. Luck had nothing to do with the fact that she broke every promise she ever made.
indent More than anything, Emma wanted to go back out to the abandoned pond, where she could sit and think forever. Where she was safe with herself and only herself and there was no threat of opening her mouth to say something she would always regret. “Full fringe,” she said again, and this time laughed. The straightener started heating up at her desk and soon enough she was pulling small bits of her hair through it so they came out in odd directions, her full fringe the straightest bit of her body.
indent She slipped on a tan sweater and a knitted hat. The worn pair of gloves remained where they’d started at her bedside table and her new pair of red Chucks slipped easily over her heels, skin tight jeans pulling the cold further inside her body. Slowly, she slipped out the window, the only thoughts on her mind were those about luck and promises. She would keep her first one tonight, no matter how dead she felt.
indent No, Emma thought, I am not lucky.
indent Emma wasn’t hungry. She was still thinking about why she couldn’t be the one with the issues, but was startled to find how odd of a thought that really was. She shook her head towards her mother before lying about feeling sick and slipping her way back into her attic room. An only child, she was, and so lucky.
indent Luck had nothing to do with it, she pushed her bangs out of her face. “Full fringe,” she muttered, angrily shoving the hair so it was back laying against her forehead. She tugged at them, puling them straight and in front of her eyes. The rest of her hair was choppy and not long enough past her shoulders. She internally promised not to go back to the same little shop later, but she knew she would. Luck had nothing to do with the fact that she broke every promise she ever made.
indent More than anything, Emma wanted to go back out to the abandoned pond, where she could sit and think forever. Where she was safe with herself and only herself and there was no threat of opening her mouth to say something she would always regret. “Full fringe,” she said again, and this time laughed. The straightener started heating up at her desk and soon enough she was pulling small bits of her hair through it so they came out in odd directions, her full fringe the straightest bit of her body.
indent She slipped on a tan sweater and a knitted hat. The worn pair of gloves remained where they’d started at her bedside table and her new pair of red Chucks slipped easily over her heels, skin tight jeans pulling the cold further inside her body. Slowly, she slipped out the window, the only thoughts on her mind were those about luck and promises. She would keep her first one tonight, no matter how dead she felt.
indent No, Emma thought, I am not lucky.