𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡, 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡, 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍
JUNE 30TH, 1985

The sweet, creamy allure of ice cream was an irresistible siren call for Scarlette. Each scoop held the promise of childhood joy, its cold embrace a fleeting escape from reality. If only she could indulge in it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner without the watchful gaze of her mother, who'd surely raise an eyebrow at such extravagance. But now, with Steve slinging cones at Scoops Ahoy, she could savor the magic of ice cream while stealing moments with her brother and Robin, her partner in summer mischief.

Every visit to the shop felt like a mini adventure. The air was thick with the aroma of freshly made waffle cones and the playful chatter of customers, each one lured in by the vibrant colors of the ice cream on display. Scarlette would often lean against the counter, her eyes sparkling as she listened to Steve and Robin banter, their laughter ringing like bells. With each shared scoop, Scarlette felt like she was living in a sweet dream, each bite of ice cream a reminder that summer was not just a season but a chapter filled with friendship, laughter, and the simple pleasure of a melting cone.

FEBRUARY 23RD, 1985

Scarlette sat at the kitchen table, her spoon hovering over a half-eaten bowl of vanilla ice cream. The sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the room, but the warmth felt cold in her heart. Just then, her mother swept into the room, a whirlwind of perfectly pressed clothing and disapproving glances.

"Scarlette, is that ice cream again?" Her mother's voice sliced through the air like a knife. "How many times have I told you about that? You're going to ruin your appetite."

Scarlette dropped her spoon, the clatter echoing in the suddenly silent kitchen. "But Mom, it's just a little," she mumbled, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Her mother crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. "You call that just a little? You should be more mindful of what you eat. You don't want to end up like—" she hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words, "—like those girls who think they can eat whatever they want and still fit into their clothes. You have to take care of yourself, Scarlette."

The sting of those words hit Scarlette harder than any physical blow. She felt her heart sink as the shadows of self-doubt crept in. "I'm not like them," she protested weakly, but her mother's dismissive wave cut her off.

"Just promise me you'll think twice before diving into the ice cream again. You want to look good in those summer clothes, don't you?"

Scarlette nodded, her appetite evaporating as she pushed the bowl away, the remaining ice cream now a reminder of her mother's critical gaze. She forced a smile, but inside, she felt the familiar mix of frustration and sadness churning within her. In that moment, the sweetness of the ice cream was overshadowed by the bitterness of her mother's words, leaving her feeling like she could never truly indulge in the things she loved without guilt.