#20 Snow

by Alison DeLuca

I felt Snow’s breath on my neck after class. “Prince is mine,” she breathed. “Watch your ass.” I turned to say something, but she was already in motion, followed by her fangirls. Or boys—it was hard to tell.

Apples. I had to research apples for a science project. Besides, the library would be a safe place. AC splintered on my cheeks as I sat at a table and opened a book.

Apple trees take five years to produce their first fruit.

Another breath on my neck, but it was warm and male. “Hey,” Prince said. I concentrated on the page in front of me as he sat in the chair across from me.

The science of apple-growing is called pomology.

His foot nudged mine. I closed my notebook. Prince looked up and started to say something. I ignored him.

There was a bathroom in the far corner of the library. The air was even colder in there. I entered the last stall, opened my purse, and took it out. The mirror.

Apples belong to the rose family.

The baggie was small and half-filled with a white powder. I cut out two lines, rolled up a twenty, and snorted.

My own face looked back at me, dusted with snow. “Get rid of her,” the girl in the mirror whispered.

The rush hit me, and I dropped the mirror on the floor. Dark blood streaked down my skin when the silver glass shattered. Red on white. Snow.

5 comments:

Connie J Jasperson said...

Awesome, Alison!

amessoffeathers said...

Very clever. Nicely done!

Sam Knight said...

Very evocative! Nice use of the familiar to go to new places, and very nice images and descriptions.

Jade said...

I like the interlacing of apples and blossoms with your imagery.

Alison DeLuca said...

Thanks so much for the wonderful feedback, as well as the chance to showcase our work. I love reading all the different stories and responses to the original prompt!