Author Games: Circle

Task Two | 1-10 Entries

1 // IVY DEVLIN

Ivy Devlin has realized many things.

She's considered life to be a sort of rope for a while now, frayed and hung loosely at the beginning, each rebellious string something not yet known or truly realized. With time, it pulls tighter, and those frays and split ends at the tip tie themselves together in a final display of true realization until snap! - the rope breaks.

As she recalls it, she was nine when it first came to her attention that she did not yet know all there was to know. Of course, she knew her basic maths and all the rest of it but wasn't very adept when it came to people and understanding the unwritten laws of social interaction and things of the sort. Often times she would find herself in situations less than desirable for someone her age, whether it be fighting with an older classmate, yelling during class, and being a general nuisance to those who came to learn at the Saint Mary's Private School For Girls at the heart of Dublin.

Although those events happened frequently, Ivy tried always to set things right. Fistfights and food-throwing incidences would soon be followed by a visit to Sister Aileen's office, and while there Ivy would confess to her wrongdoings and promise never to do anything like that ever again, ma'am. To her credit, Ivy often believed that confessing to her wrongdoings and promising never to do anything like that ever again would suffice in terms of general punishment; it was settled in her mind that once she stepped foot outside of Sister Aileen's office that she was cleansed of all her sins, and with the punishment not being too severe, she had the green light to repeat her actions all over again.

As she recalls it, it was cold that day, abnormally cold, when the school had enough of her. Some extra change had been gathered up from around the apartment (the love-seat had been especially generous), and those few cents opened up Ivy's world. She woke up early, wrapping herself in her mother's coat as silently as possible, tip-toeing to reach her father's hat on the rack before slipping out the front door and taking extra precautions to ensure its silent swinging to keep her parents asleep. The trip to the lobby was easier; it wasn't purposeful, but the thirteen-year-old lobby boy made for a good friend and an even better tutor when the situation arose. Long story short: leaving the building was easy.

Although her classmates teased her for her stature (she wasn't fond of it, she'll admit, but Ivy supposes it could've been worse), most didn't have the luxury of being able to blend into a sea of legs and arms and briefcases. Most folks didn't give her a second glance, assuming that she belonged to another face in the crowd, perhaps an adult or older child behind her. She brushed a strand of rusty-looking hair out of her face, a brief moment of panic punctuated by the realization of the rising sun casting its light upon her hair, slightly shifting its hue.

The second door she opened wasn't quiet whatsoever; the bell jangled and a loud thump could be heard from behind the counter as the toy store owner woke up. He rubbed his eyes and yawned.

"Oh, hiya, lassie. Found more sofa coins, I bet?"

Ivy laughed and smacked the coins down onto the glass counter, watching as each metal disc rattled until they settled down, flat.

"How much is it?" she asked. "We still 'aven't gotten to coins in maths yet."

He scooped up all the coins, placing them back onto the counter as he counted their values. Once the last coin left his hands and rattled back on the glass, he spoke once more.

"Eighteen scillingí."

Silence.

"Is that a lot?" Ivy asked.

"Depends. What do you want?"

"What can I get?"

The man gestured to the rows of small trinkets beneath him, tucked in the glass counter. "Everythin' 'ere is fifteen or below. Take your pick."