Everybody's Fool

2 | Ice Queen

ICE QUEEN

"I have so much to say to you that I'm afraid I shall tell you nothing."

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

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I WOKE UP thirty minutes before my alarm was supposed to ring, dread building up in me like bubbles before they explode out of a soda can. As I dragged my eyes open, it hit me square in my empty stomach. School. I felt my face contort into a grimace, my throat tightening as the sobs sitting low in my chest threatened a resurgence. Clamping my pillow over my face, I forced myself to lie still. I wasn't going to cry anymore.

After a few minutes of doing nothing but breathing and trying not to think, I sat up. My chest ached and my stomach still felt hollow - but at least I wasn't hungry. Dread will do that to you, I guess.

At least there's a silver lining, I thought mockingly.

Pulling my clothes off, I wrapped myself in my bathrobe and headed to the bathroom. The house seemed cold, grey, and bleak in the early morning without the sounds of Dad rummaging about in the kitchen downstairs. I briefly contemplated returning to bed. But I knew I wouldn't be going back to sleep so what was the point?

In the bathroom, I turned on the water in the shower. While I waited for it to heat up, I pulled off my rings and lined them up along the mirror. I had like eight of them and more in my room. Delia had given me the two I wore on my index finger and the one on my pinky. The thumb rings I'd found at a garage sale and the others I'd collected from relatives and family members. I liked the way they looked: edgy, and like I was maybe a part of a band.

In the shower, I stood under the burning water and squeezed my eyes shut. I still wasn't used to it - the luxury of it.

I guess you could say that hot water was another oddly placed silver lining. Back in Albany, we could never get it working. The heater was broken or service was poor in our neighborhood - there was always some reason and for the majority of my childhood, whenever one of us wanted to takes a hot bath, we had to boil water on the stove and lug it across the house to the bathtub. Mom used to do it for Jake and I when we were younger but when we hit twelve, she told us we had to either learn how to do it ourselves (without getting burnt) or shiver through a cold shower. And because me and Jake are quintessentially a lazy pair, we couldn't be bothered with all the lugging around of hot pots; it was always cold showers after that.

When Jake banged on the door and told me to hurry up, I realized I must've showered a good thirty minutes because he would only wake up when his alarm went off and not a minute sooner. Slowly, I switched off the water and climbed out. I hoped I hadn't used up all the hot water.

The room resembled a sauna with condensation sliding down the walls and steam covering the mirror. I wrapped my robe around me and reluctantly met my reflection in the mirror. I was a big, white, miserable blob. All the crying hadn't helped either. My eyes were puffy and swollen, my nose rivaling that of Rudolph.

Ugh.

Jake banged again, calling my name. I grabbed my toothbrush, squeezed out some toothpaste, and started to stab at my teeth.

"Gimme a minute," I said around a mouthful of lather.

There was a long pause and then Jake said, quietly, "You okay, Marli?"

The concern in his voice sparked something I wasn't ready to feel yet. Rinsing my mouth, I tossed my toothbrush down, cinched my robe tighter, and opened the door. Jake stood there, looking wary and a little awkward. His mouth snapped close when he met my eyes.