Antumbra - A Lost Cause

Guardian - Chapter One

Arva tried carefully to open the door as quietly as she could, wary of the old hinges that squealed if you swung it too fast, and creaked if you went too slow. There was a sweet spot she had to hit if she wanted to get the garbage out without anyone noticing, and stepped out onto the patio shoeless, the bag held at her side. She propped the door open with the plastic trash can and pulled off the lid, holding her breath as she quickly dumped it in. She tried not to make a sound- or gag -and returned back inside, shutting the door behind her with the same delicate touch. She stopped for a moment to look to the skies. There was only one clear view of the sky from inside their tiny house, and it was out the back. They were calling for storms, though Arva couldn't see any dark clouds. Just the same white, serene layer of fluff she'd always known. She silently hoped the forecast would be wrong, and stepped back inside.

"I'm telling," a squeaky little voice from behind made Arva flinch. She turned around to see Hannah, already dressed for school, wearing an accusing face. "You were supposed to do the garbage last night."

"Shhh!" Arva held her finger to her mouth. "It's fine, the garbage guys didn't even come yet. We're fine, it's fine."

"You said you did it yesterday," Hannah said, her hands on her hips, looking as intimidating as a five year old could. "You lied!"

"Just go to school," scolded Arva, unimpressed with her little sister's bluster. "And don't tell Gramma, or I'm flushing Josh while you're gone!"

"You wouldn't!" the little girl suddenly looked petrified.

"Get!" Arva snapped, and Hannah scampered off with a childish wail. Arva crossed her arms until she heard the front door close. Normally she would've walked her younger sister to school, but Hannah insisted she was "big enough" to walk the two blocks by herself. That suited Arva just fine. She walked through the kitchen and back towards the stairwell, stopping just short of it to peek into the fish tank sat atop a bookshelf.

"Don't worry little guy, I'd never do it," she said to the little crustacean that scuttled across the bottom. She pinched some food flakes from the small container next to the tank and sprinkled them in, the animal quickly gobbling them up as they drifted within his reach. Arva couldn't help but grin at the tiny creature going about his business, then hopped back upstairs to her room. Though technically she'd been sharing it for five years now, Arva still remembered when it wasn't cluttered with toys and junk. But Gramma never could say no to anybody in need, so even though Arva really didn't want to be, she was a big sister. She had to deal with all the responsibilities and frustrations that came with it, even if it meant sacrificing some living space. Today Arva felt that more than ever as she rooted around her drawers through the few outfits she had, wanting to pick something that looked nice. Going into town warranted dressing fancy, she didn't want to come across as just another unwashed Hybrid bubbling up from the Lows.

After deliberation, she settled on the plain white dress and green cardigan combo she'd worn at her graduation. They were the only two articles of clothing she had that weren't worn out, discoloured, or oversized, and after slipping them on she knelt in front of the mirror. Said mirror was too short to see herself standing in, and the room was too small to get distance enough to counteract that, but from the knees up at least she thought she looked acceptable. The white of the dress went with her "hair," while the green was an acceptable contrast to her pale blue skin. Hybrids were often at a disadvantage to fashion, and Arva's own unusual tone exacerbated that struggle. Consulting the mirror one last time, she still felt something was missing. She turned to Hannah's side of the room and immediately searched the remnants of a tornado that was the child's mound of disorganized clothes, sheets, and toys. Eventually she found the box of pretend jewelry, gifted to her by a neighbour last year, and selected a pair of earrings. Up close they were revealed to be the unconvincing pieces of painted plastic they were, held onto her ears by weak colourless clear clips, but from a distance Arva thought they looked like the real thing. Enough, at least, to complete her look. Heck, Arva thought, if today went well she may one day be wearing the genuine articles.