Ripe

Chapter 7

♪Chapter Song♪

"Whataya Want From Me?" by Adam Lambert

(I don't own this song.)

***

Chapter 7

I OPEN MY eyes and snuggle my arms to my chest, surrounded by the warmth of my blankets. I can feel the break of dawn against my skin, coming from my window.

I stretch my body as far as possible, making sure to get into the morning spirit. I slide my feet into my santa slippers and shuffle to the door. A giant smile forms on my face as the realization of what today means smacks me in the face.

It's Christmas Day.

The day that Christ was born. Although I'm not extremely spiritual, I do have my own, personal beliefs. No one can tell me otherwise.

Before I leave my room, I check the clock. It's nine twenty-two in the morning, the latest I've ever gotten up to open presents. Ever.

Quickly, I rush out of my room and into Iggy's room. To my surprise, upon entrance to her room, I find that she's already up. While sitting up on her new, small, Disney's Pocahontas themed bed, Iggy has her pretty blue eyes trained on the snowy ground outside the window.

I smile at the sight. My little sister has an eye for beautiful things already. Outside, the snow isn't falling, but it's covering the majority of the ground. The luminous sun is shining in the sky, shooting beams of light across the surface of the snow and ice. Shimmering snowflakes make the ground look like a giant, stationary disco ball. Or glitter, even. It's beautiful to watch.

I move from the door frame and sit on the bed next to her. "Merry Christmas, Iggy," I whisper, pulling her into a hug.

"Will!" She replies, pulling herself up onto my lap. Holding her small frame is similar to holding a teddy bear that you can win from a carnival game.

"Merry Chrissed-mus," she says, smiling in the most adorable way. Her tiny fingers point out toward the window.

"It's pretty, isn't it?"

Iggy nods, starring at me curously, before reaching her arms up. This insinuates that she wants me to carry her, probably downstairs. I'm sure Dad and Erin are already up (with a camera), waiting for us to come down to open gifts.

I scoop her up into my arms while standing and rest her on my hip, wrapping my arm around her back for security. She's a bit heavy, but I'll carry her anyway; she's too cute to say no to.

While descending the stairs, I realize that I'm in no condition to take pictures. My face will be even more horrible than usual. I didn't comb my hair, didn't brush my teeth, anything.

It's kind-of too late to do anything about it now anyway. It's just pictures, they don't always last forever— especially not when deleted from all digital devices and, if printed, put through a paper shredding machine.

As soon as I get to the living room, I can tell that something is off. Erin and Dad are always down here waiting for us. Knowing this, it's hard to believe that everything is fine when they aren't sitting on the couch or standing anywhere in plain site, like usual. On the coat rack, only my things and Iggy's things are on the hooks. My eyes dart to the bowl that we set the keys in, only to find that the keys are still there.

So confused.

With my little sister still in my arms, I bounce over to one of the front windows and pull the curtain back just enough to survey the lawn.