Chapter One

         Mom was still curled under the raggedy blanket in the left hand corner of the attic, but both Dad and Francois were gone. I stretched and felt my bones popping and muscles aching in the most delightful way. I repressed the urge to yawn and got out of my bed, hunched over as to avoid scraping the top of the ceiling. My blanket was made with patches of blue, green, pink, red and pretty much all the colors of the rainbow. I savored the varying textures as I folded it up. Running my fingers along the cotton and felt, and the small small scrap of satin making up a pinched corner. I lay it on top of my bed and tip toed to the center of the room. A smooth circle with a ladder in the middle that led to the back of the shop resided in the exact center of the attic. And like every morning I carefully crawled down. Noting the placement of my feet and what weak spots to avoid. Then about 2/3 down hopped off without looking and landed on the cement floor of the shop.

         Dad was holding Francois and sketching a design for a customer. The new one who stumbled in yesterday I think. She asked for peacock feathers as a hem and somehow I don't imagine she will be a regular customer. Dad heard me come up and turned around, charcoal smudged along the bridge of his nose, from when he rubs his nose in thought or frustration. Somehow I imagine it was from the latter.

          "Daphne, can you take Francois and go get some breakfast?" He said while shoving a lethargic messy haired child in my arms. Then turned around and began lifting papers and moving fabric until he found a small stack of coins. He then shoved them in my other free hand and turned back furiously to his design. Of which I saw copious extravagances. We would have to take out a few loans if she approved of the design but a large sum had been promised, so we coped.

          The store front was slightly illuminated. Somehow a light covering of dust had settled already. I had dusted yesterday morning, but it seemed no matter how often I cleaned our little store was destined to be dirty. And I, would just have to keep fighting fate in the meantime. I went through the creaky door and left it for dad o lock up behind me. I grimaced my usual grimace when I saw the mess in front of the store. At night the store was small and rarely noticed, people would just toss their trash in here as if we were actually an alleyway. I would have to clean that before breakfast, and an unusual stench made me think it would be a little worse than most days.

          The streets were already bustling with people and smells and noises. The scents were scintillating and blended together making my stomach growl. I clenched the coins and little tighter and walked with the rest of the warm crowd. The sun beat down upon my hair and François started shifting around. Uncomfortable out in the bright sun. His light red wisps of hair stuck up everywhere and I gently smoothed them down. At last, pushing through the people I took a hard right and went to the small market. Not many people went here because the products weren't very great, but I didn't go to the others because the prices weren't that great.

My favorite vendor was out, Corrine . She was always an easy haggler. But she was also very kind.

"Hello Daphne" She greeted me with a slight accent. I could never pace it but it sounded Italian.

"Hello Ms. Bisset, How are you today?"

"Good, Good. But please. For the last time call me Corrine." She gave me a mock stern look. She had asked me to do this a thousand times before, but my parents raised me a certain way and she would always be Ms. Bisset to me.

"Yes, Ms. Bisset."

She chuckled heartily at this and started to pull her thick glossy black hair back by a ribbon.

"How can I help you today, Daphne?"

I looked behind her and based off of the few selections

"Six eggs and a fruit for François here." I patted Francois who seemed to be getting more aware of the day. I shifted him to my left hip as my arms were killing me.

"No fruits today, Daphne. But I have some Sweet Potatoes." I sighed.

"Okay how much for 6 eggs and a sweet potato?"

"8 bronze."

"No no no. I will give you 5" I said clutching my 6 nervously.

"7 bronze"

"6'

"Fine, but I can't give you a bag for 6"

I felt my heart drop a little. I would have to be very careful on the walk home.

"Fine."

I handed over the 6 bronze which Ms. Bisset counted out carefully before turning and picking up the eggs and sweet potato. She handed me the eggs two at a time which I carefully placed in my pockets, lifting François higher so he wouldn't accidentally break the eggs. I turned and started to walk away when Ms. Bisset called out

"Daphne? Isn't tomorrow your birthday?" A note of worry hung in her voice.

I didn't turn around, just nodded.

"17th?"

One more curt nod.

Silence then a soft whisper "Good Luck."

I did not reply just walked away again. This time faster.

          By the time I reached home again the eggs were intact by sheer luck. I tried to open the door but it would not budge. I knocked firmly as Francois squirmed and began to suck on his fingers. The door opened to a slim woman with fiery red hair marred by silver strands. Bags dragged her face down, but her eyes sparkled as if the whole world lay before her. Ripe for the taking and she was my mom. Mom let me in and as I went inside I smiled as I thought of the stories of ow she was raised. Her Mother had always told her "we may not be in a great position regarding any aspect of society, but that does not debilitate you. You have all the power in the world, so seize it!"

          Her mother's name was also Daphne. Mom told me whenever she looked at me I reminded her of this. One time I asked why she didn't change anything then, and she told me: "I already have everything I want. A family and a home made up of love. What else do I need?"

          She tells me to follow my dreams no matter how high or low they are because true happiness isn't made of money. Sometimes I doubt that. But I try to stay true to her. I followed mom into the small kitchen area we have cleared in the back and set down the 6 eggs and Sweet Potato. Mom bit her lip for a small second and then smiled.

           "Honey, can you put François down and then help me with breakfast?" Her back turned as she clanked out a pot, pan, knife, and peeler. I nodded, fully aware she couldn't see me and climbed back upstairs. With one hand on the rungs and the other fearfully clutching Francois. I settled him in his cradle and put a very small raggedy purple giraffe in his hand before leaving. Halfway down the ladder he started to fuss and I heard the thump of the giraffe being thrown across the room as the wailing ensued.

Mom looked annoyed at Francois wailing upstairs, but motioned me over to stir the eggs while she finished chopping the sweet potato.

"Sorry mom, but he gets fussy in the morning."

          "I know, hun. It's just a touch of bad blood. You always was that way in the afternoon when Your Father and I had to switch off taking care of you during store hours." But the vein in her neck pulsed a little. Don't get me wrong. Mom was happy no doubt, but sometimes I think she still doubted herself and wondered if she would be happier with money. Seeing those doubts kind of fueled mine as well. I mean, I didn't even know what my "dream" was. How was I supposed to know how money fit in to it?

------------------------------------ Mom

          Daphne cracked the eggs lightly against the side of the pan, her light red brows furrowed in thought. Francois' wailing was piercing and bit into me making my headache much worse. Our large pan barely fit all six eggs inside when the edges turned white Daphne took the knife and her nimble fingers carefully separated the eggs edges. Stepping back she looked at me.

"Do you need help?" She said staring at the boiling water and sweet potato.

"No." I said. I turned at tossed the chunks into the boiling water putting the lid on top. When I turned back around I saw Daphne and her worn shoes disappearing up the ladder.

Francois' face was red and his mouth was a gaping hole of sound. I saw the limp form of the purple giraffe on mom and dad's bed its long neck twisted from being thrown. I picked Francois up and cradled him, wrapping his blanket tightly around him. He quieted down and when I put the tiny giraffe in his hand he curled it up to his chest and closed his eyes. I continued to walk around the room, cradling Francois and quietly humming.

"Daphne! Breakfast." Mom called up. At the noise Francois immediately began to fuss again. I briefly tried to calm him when I realized that going down the stairs and being fed was going to undo any progress I made anyway. At the table Dad had his drawing half on and half off. The ridiculous lady's design was still his primary focus. How many things had she asked for? Mom and I switched off between feeding François. And it was mostly quiet except for the spewing of mashed sweet potato and small sighs of frustration until

"Daphne don't be nervous about tomorrow." Mom said, before shoving food in Francois' mouth. "It'll be fine."

I saw Dad pause in the middle of his sketches. Hesitating, as if he was wondering whether he should join the conversation or not. After a brief moment it seemed he decided against it and continued on. I decided not to reply. Everyone felt the need to comment on this. As is my turning of age somehow opened my life up to them. I didn't need that. Good or bad.

"Daphne?"

"What?"

"Did you hear me?"

"Yah, I heard you Mom." Shoving some egg into my mouth. Unfortunately that didn't cure her from talking.

"What do you think?" I looked up. Mom had abandoned trying to feed Francois and was staring at me. Dad had dropped his pencil and tilted his head towards us.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, it matters. Some people say expectations make reality." Her face was beginning to flush.

"Yeah well some people are also wrong. It just happens Mom. I don't want it to but setting yourself up for a letdown only makes it worse."

"Daphne! Don't think that way."

I shoved my plate away, my stomach churning with the thought of what may come tomorrow. Why did she have to bring it up? Why couldn't I just ignore it? This dread only diminished my appetite. "I have chores to do." And stalked away. Each footstep pounding on the cement.

"Daphne come back." Mom's voice was raised. Interspersed with the whispers of my Father.

"Liliane please, she's right."

I paused to hear her reply before exiting,

"But Marin, I don't want to lose her."

Angrily I slammed the door behind me and ran out on the streets in search of solitude. 

Author's Note

First draft. I am trying to ignore my revision urges and editing urges so that I can just get the first draft out. Revision will be added later.

Reviews

[Olessandre]

Love it, think it’s really good keep it up :)