Dashing Through The Snow

Chapter Four - Isabella

Chapter Four

Isabella

Why did I do that? I rarely cried anymore, so why start again now? I couldn't help but let the tears fall when they said that. My parents had said the same thing before going to a Christmas party and drinking their hearts out, until they died from a heart attack. They died at exactly midnight, and I found out an hour later. I was eleven and my sister was one. That led us to live with the devil - I mean, my uncle. What a joy.

My uncle had said to go for a walk, buy myself something while he took Jess to get a haircut, but I couldn't just leave her. After he promised not to hurt her - and threatened me - I let them go. Jess was going to object, but I had shook my head, making her go with him. What kind of sister was I?

At least I hadn't died and left her, I thought bitterly.

Zipping my sweater, I slowed to a walk, glancing around to see if Nick and Finwë were still on my trail. Sighing, I realized I had lost them. I took the two, crumpled twenty dollar bills and flattened them out, peeking into a store. Pulling the door open of Aeropostale, the little bell rang, reminding me of Finwë's shoes. He must have an awful job with that costume.

"Hi, welcome to Aeropostale. Do you need help?" a cheery employee asked.

"No, thank you," I muttered, hating how everyone was so happy. What was so good about Christmas anymore?

I let my fingers move across a rack of overpriced hoodies, making my way to the back of the store. A few employees smirked, pointing at me.

"Sorry if I'm not like you," I spat, taking them off guard.

Giving up, I spun and walked out of the store, past the snotty employees and into the wave of people. Three weeks until Christmas and the mall was packed. Fingering the money, I let the crowd carry me toward a Starbucks. Standing in line, I thought about Nick and Finwë. Where were they from? What place didn't have a mall?

As questions swirled in my head, a voice to my right sent shivers down my back, in a good way.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" I replied, annoyed.

"Like you're standing in line for a cup," Finwë responded, glancing at the coffee people were holding. "Why not just bring a cup from home? What is so special about these?"

"You have got to be kidding me," I muttered. "They are buying coffee. Haven't you been to a coffee shop before?"

"A coffee what?" Finwë questioned as Nick said, "We only drink hot chocolate."

"Where do you live?" I mumbled, walking up to the counter.

"Hi, how can I help you?"

Before I could reply, Finwë asked, "Do you sell hot chocolate?"

The cashier smiled at him, "Yes, we do. Would you like one?"

"Two," Nick answered, flashing an extremely white smile. "Do you want one, Isabella?"

"Fine," I snapped, "I'll have a Grande hot chocolate."

"A what?" Finwë said, scratching his head. "Why not regular hot chocolate?"

"Grande is a size, Finwë."

"Oh," they answered in unison.

I directed my next sentence to the cashier, who was staring at them like they'd grown a new head. "Three Grande hot chocolates."

"That will be nine ninety five." She smiled.

As I handed the money over, Finwë grumbled, "What a rip off."