“Can I see?”
Scarlet slid the sketchpad to her chest and shook her head. “Not yet.”
She shrugged and took another bite of her apple. Honor wouldn’t push her sister; she understood how important one’s privacy was.
“How was school?” her mom asked, glancing at her.
Cassie Rochester was a mature version of her oldest daughter with her ebony hair, pale skin, and blue eyes. She always smelled like cinnamon and sugar, and was taller than Honor at five feet five inches but not as thin, although at Honor’s age she had been. Hands perpetually red and cracked from all the manual labor she did between her two jobs that no amount of lotion could change. Honor was always buying different kinds for her to try, but nothing had been able to heal her mother’s hands yet.
There was weariness to her mother she tried to camouflage behind bright smiles and animated chatter. The smiles didn’t quite reach her eyes and the exuberance in her voice was a little flat. Cassie was a housekeeper at the nursing home in town and she worked in the bakery at the local grocery store. She worked seven days a week, but she always made sure she was home at night for her girls. There was a warm meal for them every day at supper time, clothes laundered, and her mother’s presence when they got home from school. She tried so hard to make up for the loss of a parent by doing twice the work she should.
“Fine. It was school.” Honor avoided her mother’s gaze.
She and her mother were pretty close and talked about most things, but something held her back from mentioning the odd occurrence during class and later. She’ll think I’m being melodramatic and exaggerating. Plus Honor didn’t really know what had happened. Maybe they had simply been helping Christian because he was sick. Then why had he tried to fight them off? Had he really? She didn’t know. Honor shifted uncomfortably, the apple like lead in her stomach. She set the uneaten portion down and pushed away from the counter.
“ Is everything okay?” Cassie’s eyes were trained on her daughter.
She worried too much, about everything. Cassie worried about not being there for her daughters, she worried about their health, she worried that something bad might happen to them. Honor understood why her mother was the way she was, but sometimes, she wished she wasn’t. It was exhausting, continuously trying to deflect apprehension from her mother’s conscience, and it had to be fatiguing to her mom as well, trying to live under that suffocating weight of never knowing what the future held. That was thing— no one knew what the future held. People had to live with that knowledge and make the most of the time they had, because they never knew when it would be gone. They didn’t know if tomorrow would always come, for them anyway.
“Yeah. Everything’s fine. I gotta get ready for work.” Honor tossed the apple in the wastebasket beside the fridge and went to her room.
The third step groaned as Honor rushed up the stairs, opening the first door on the left. The walls were pale pink from Honor’s younger days when she was infatuated with fairies, princesses, and the myth of a happily ever after. The room smelled faintly of the vanilla lotion she favored. Sheer white curtains covered the two windows in the room. She’d glued swirls of glitter on them that sparkled when the sun hit them. Iridescent butterflies attached by string hung at different lengths from the ceiling and a small bookcase full of anything from science-fiction to romance to horror books was beside her bed.
Honor quickly undressed, kicked her clothes toward the laundry basket, and rummaged through the dresser drawers for her work uniform. Dressed in a burnt orange polo shirt that read McDermott’s and black slacks, Honor pulled on a pair of black socks and dug black tennis shoes out of the back of her closet. She braided her hair and was ready to go, pounding down the steps.
“Mom, I’m leaving. ‘Bye
Scarlet slid the sketchpad to her chest and shook her head. “Not yet.”
She shrugged and took another bite of her apple. Honor wouldn’t push her sister; she understood how important one’s privacy was.
“How was school?” her mom asked, glancing at her.
Cassie Rochester was a mature version of her oldest daughter with her ebony hair, pale skin, and blue eyes. She always smelled like cinnamon and sugar, and was taller than Honor at five feet five inches but not as thin, although at Honor’s age she had been. Hands perpetually red and cracked from all the manual labor she did between her two jobs that no amount of lotion could change. Honor was always buying different kinds for her to try, but nothing had been able to heal her mother’s hands yet.
There was weariness to her mother she tried to camouflage behind bright smiles and animated chatter. The smiles didn’t quite reach her eyes and the exuberance in her voice was a little flat. Cassie was a housekeeper at the nursing home in town and she worked in the bakery at the local grocery store. She worked seven days a week, but she always made sure she was home at night for her girls. There was a warm meal for them every day at supper time, clothes laundered, and her mother’s presence when they got home from school. She tried so hard to make up for the loss of a parent by doing twice the work she should.
“Fine. It was school.” Honor avoided her mother’s gaze.
She and her mother were pretty close and talked about most things, but something held her back from mentioning the odd occurrence during class and later. She’ll think I’m being melodramatic and exaggerating. Plus Honor didn’t really know what had happened. Maybe they had simply been helping Christian because he was sick. Then why had he tried to fight them off? Had he really? She didn’t know. Honor shifted uncomfortably, the apple like lead in her stomach. She set the uneaten portion down and pushed away from the counter.
“ Is everything okay?” Cassie’s eyes were trained on her daughter.
She worried too much, about everything. Cassie worried about not being there for her daughters, she worried about their health, she worried that something bad might happen to them. Honor understood why her mother was the way she was, but sometimes, she wished she wasn’t. It was exhausting, continuously trying to deflect apprehension from her mother’s conscience, and it had to be fatiguing to her mom as well, trying to live under that suffocating weight of never knowing what the future held. That was thing— no one knew what the future held. People had to live with that knowledge and make the most of the time they had, because they never knew when it would be gone. They didn’t know if tomorrow would always come, for them anyway.
“Yeah. Everything’s fine. I gotta get ready for work.” Honor tossed the apple in the wastebasket beside the fridge and went to her room.
The third step groaned as Honor rushed up the stairs, opening the first door on the left. The walls were pale pink from Honor’s younger days when she was infatuated with fairies, princesses, and the myth of a happily ever after. The room smelled faintly of the vanilla lotion she favored. Sheer white curtains covered the two windows in the room. She’d glued swirls of glitter on them that sparkled when the sun hit them. Iridescent butterflies attached by string hung at different lengths from the ceiling and a small bookcase full of anything from science-fiction to romance to horror books was beside her bed.
Honor quickly undressed, kicked her clothes toward the laundry basket, and rummaged through the dresser drawers for her work uniform. Dressed in a burnt orange polo shirt that read McDermott’s and black slacks, Honor pulled on a pair of black socks and dug black tennis shoes out of the back of her closet. She braided her hair and was ready to go, pounding down the steps.
“Mom, I’m leaving. ‘Bye
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