A Pocketful of Gems

Chapter 1: sing a song of six pence - Part 1

I own an alarm clock, but can't honestly say the last time I've woken to it. Both of my parents have day jobs and rise early for the commute, even though it's a short one. I've gotten in the habit of leaving my door cracked slightly; so I can hear when their shouting matches start. It usually comes in as muffled shouts of words and phrases I can't identify and half the time I can't tell mom's voice from dad, yet the sound of something breaking was unmistakable. It created a loll in the voices before they started back at full force.

I sat up in bed and stared at the hairline path in my curtains that cast a hazy gleam of streetlight across my room bisecting me vertically. The universe was clearly mocking me. I looked at the green glare of the bedside clock. 6:45AM. I sneered and looked away, having thought my first self debasing thought of the day.

I had to shift over twice to get my legs off the bed. I threw my feet over and got up to start what was sure to be a long, tiring day. Sigh.

With the high volume the shouting had escalated to I opt for a cowboy shower and dressed damp. I pulled on my favourite hoodie, a white and gray striped thing with a huge front pocket, tucked my lighthouse charm bracelet carefully inside the sleeve and bounded down the stairs ten minutes later, feeling my thick messy twin braids slapping my back and shoulders. I almost made it out the door.

"It's a bit early to be leaving for school, Gemma."

Think fast kiddo. Meeting up with friends? What friends? Studying at the library? Really? What the hell is Google for, then? Who even goes to libraries anymore? Catching the Trig teacher to get her to correct an answer she marked wrong, but was correct? Pure gold.

I turned to look at my dad. He wore only his PJ bottoms, but looked like he'd not slept a wink in days.

"Ms. Gore marked me wrong on a test question," I told him, "I want to catch her before school so she can correct it."

"Okay," the thin smile said he wasn't buying it, but he didn't voice it. He scratched his chin, the few days worth of stubble looked good on him, and asked, "need a ride?"

I looked pass him, his body partially blocked my view into the living-room but mom, in the background, moved and I glimpsed her for just a moment then she was gone, hidden from view by dad's broad shoulders, but I'd seen her hiding the broom and mop behind the sofa.

"No, I'm fine walking." The walk would give me time to think, clear my head. I turned for the door.

"You not gonna have any breakfast, Kitten?" I paused, good thing too; I almost stepped on a shard of vase. It must have bounced its way out the living room when it face planted with the floor. I toed the piece, picked it up and turning back looked at my mother standing in the living-room entrance, one hand on her hip the other behind her back. She looked relaxed but her chocolate skin glistened with perspiration.

"That'd be great, what'd you make?"

"Oh, um," she glanced at dad; he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away rocking on the balls of his feet, "nothing...yet."

I held the ceramic shard out to her. She stared at me awhile before producing a bin from behind her back. I dropped the shard in, listening for the clatter when it hit the other pieces.

"I'll get something at the Sunshine Bakery," I half turned, stopped and hugged them together before heading out the door. A stuttering of "I love you" trailed after me.

                                                                                            -

It had rained briefly during the night. The early morning haze hadn't completely dissipated and swirled like wisps of fluffy cotton candy around my long skirt. I snapped a picture of it with my phone, for later, but it was chilly and feeling the cold ache in the tips of my fingers I shoved them into my hoodie's kangaroo pocket and walked with quicker longer strides making sure to lift my feet. No matter how emotionally bogged down I felt I never drag my feet; my shoes are way too nice and way too expensive. I was wearing my favourite Gucci booties today –jade green with faux silver buckles and rhinestone heels. I walked with purpose, kept my eyes straight ahead and tried not to venture into anyone's personal space, mostly to ensure no one ended up in mine, which would obligate me to greet them.