Thursday, January 27, 2011

Ice Maidens

in-class writing prompt


“I’m cold,” she whined.  I rolled my eyes, trying to keep calm.
            “I could have told you that would happen,” I snapped, digging even deeper into the locker I was half inside.  “If you would have worn practical clothing, something warmer—”
            “You never said it’d be this cold.”  Her tone was on the verge of tearful, and I sighed, rolling back to squat on my heels.
            “Listen.  It’s been a very bad, very long day for both of us, all right?  Your complaining is not helping anything.”  As I ground out the last words, I glanced out of the corner of my eye at her.  In a few seconds, her face went from crumpled and weepy to furious.
            “Well, excuse me, Miss Grumpy,” she snarled.  “It’s not my fault that my poor excuse for a sister—”
            “Like you’re one to talk!”
            “—my sister drags me all the way out here, to the middle of God-knows-where—”
            “I told you where we were going!”
            “Whatever!  You didn’t explain worth anything!”
            “Lissie!” I barked.
            “Hannah!” she shrieked back at me.  Her voice was as piercing as it’d ever been.  “You’re the one with the brains, the education!  You know I don’t know peas about geography!  When you said you had to make a quick stop at Antartica, I thought you meant somewhere exotic on the European mainland!”
            “What?!?”
            “Well, excuse me.”  She made a juvenile face at me and crossed her legs.  “It is somehow my fault that I happen to work in a job where beauty is the most important aspect?”  Tossing her perfect hair back from her eyes, she pursed her lips.  “You’re just jealous.”  I felt myself flush as I rose.
            “Jealous?  Of what?  Of a sister who can’t support herself in a legitimate employment situation?”
            “Oh, please.”  Her eyes rolled to the ceiling and she heaved a dramatic sigh.  “Here we go again.  The Mama speech.”
            “Maybe if you’d listened to her, you’d be better off!”
            “I’m doing fine for myself, thank you!”
            “Lissie, no one in their right mind thinks that undressing for a roomful of strangers is ‘doing fine’!”
            “Not true!”
            “Yes, it is, and you know it, or you wouldn’t be arguing with me.”
            “I can’t believe your arrogance.”
            “My arrogance?  My arrogance?”  Everything about her enraged me.  “What makes you even say that, Lissie?  Shame?  You know as well as I do that if you hadn’t gone into your ‘profession’—”  I made exaggerated quote marks in the air.  “—if you had listened to Mama, to Papa, to me, that maybe – maybe- maybe Mama would still be alive!”  The last words slipped out of my mouth before I could reel them back.  I stopped, horrified, and stared down at my sister.  Her lips went white, then red, as she pressed them together.  I watched her eyes narrow as they’d done when we were children.  I braced myself for her wails, the tears.  Instead, my little sister got herself to her high-heeled feet, looked me straight in the eyes, and slapped me across the face.
            “That,” she said between her teeth, “is for looking down on me.”  She slapped me again, on the other side of my face.  “And that,” she snarled, “is for telling me lies and trying to shame me.”  My face smarted, but not as badly as my heart.  Lissie turned her back to me, displaying the long shining hair and slender waist that made her so famous in her profession.  “Did you know,” she said, apparently addressing the wall.  “That Mama called me before she died?”  I blinked, shocked.  “Oh, yes,” she added, turning a little sideways and sliding her eyes toward me.  “She did.  And where were you, Miss Hannah?”  She turned all the way around, her red lips curving in a mocking smile, revealing her perfect shining teeth.  “Off running some errand for the president, is that right, sweetie?”  She laughed, the sound beautiful even though I hated her.  “Yes, Hannah, your stripper sister was the one cooling Mama’s fevered brow and holding her hand in her last days.  Papa—yes, your papa!—even sat and talked with me.  Imagine that!  And you know what they said to me, Hannah, dear?”   She stopped, blinking her large green eyes at me.  I waited.  She waited.  The silence lengthened.
            “What?” I croaked, surrendering.  She nodded, as if proud of a puppy for learning a new trick.
            “They told me they were proud of me.”
            “You’re lying!”
            “Oh, no, Hannah.  They did express regret for the way my life turned at the beginning, but they saw that I’ve made a name for myself.”  She smiled, her eyes glinting with pride.  “And you, Hannah, darling?  When have you ever heard that from them?”  I was all too familiar with the disdain her face flashed at me, and I turned away, swallowing the lump in my throat and trying to hide the traitor tears that welled up without warning.
            “Lissie, you know my job is mostly classified.”
            “That’s what you say.  But I believe you do nothing of importance.”
            I was silent.  She took my silence as surrender and changed the subject.
            “I’m hungry.”  At the words, my stomach grumbled.  I knelt back down, sticking my head and shoulders back into the locker I’d been searching before our argument.
            “I thought there should be something in here.”  My voice echoed back into my own ears, but I kept talking, wishing to block out the snarling of the past few minutes.  “The doctor told me—”
            “The doctor!” Lissie snorted.
            “—the doctor,” I persisted,  “told me that the base tries to keep some food on hand at all times—ah!”
            “What?!?  What did you find?!?”  The eagerness in her voice was poorly masked, and I smiled to myself as I drew myself out of the locker.
            “Meat,” I told her, dangling a cage in my hand.  Her eyes widened in horror as she took in the situation.
            “Hannah, you can’t mean—”
            “Lissie, what else is our choice?”
            “But the poor little bunny . . .” Her eyes misted as she reached out a manicured hand, and touched the soft fur through the wires of the cage.  The pink nose, surrounded by gray fur, twitched as she stroked his fur.  I ignored her eyes and the rabbit’s.
            “We’re going to starve,” I insisted.  “We’ve been stranded here three days already, with no radio signal, no food, minimal water—”
            “This is all your fault!” She lashed out at me, and I felt a stab of satisfaction. My sister had always been in control of her life, perhaps, making it go how she wanted, but my secret victory was always being able to manipulate her.

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