Miss Hawkridge

four

Liv fought with the keys before she could let herself in. A soft, milky light poured in. Liv sighed, before she switched on the lights and the central heater and drew the curtains. She opened her shows before walked into the kitchen.

The dishes were cluttered in the sink as she left them in the morning, the full glass of milk just as she left it on the table, the note fluttering from underneath. Liv drained the milk in the sink and scrunched up the note before she threw it in the dustbin. She grimaced at the smell before she decided to throw out the trash. There was layer of dust accumulated on top of the dinner table, but Liv would do it tomorrow. She'd wash her face in the morning, and do her chores then too. If not in the morning, she'd do them at night. She'd do it. But, right now, all she could think about was to slip under her covers and sleep.

But sleep wouldn't come. She tossed and turned, but Liv couldn't shake off the uncomfortable feeling that overtook her gut. She sat up, and took deep breaths.

"Everything is going to be fine," she repeated to herself. She lit her bedside lamp, and stared at the picture beside it. Who would've thought that there'd come a day when this picture turned everything cold and unappetising. The picture of two young, pretty girls smiling in all their youth.

She jumped on her bed, and laid down on her back. Liv closed her eyes.

The sun blared in through the kitchen window. Liv was sitting down at the table, munching on her cereal. She was much younger, and her mother still had twinkling eyes. Her mother was leaning against the kitchen counter, flipping through the newspaper, sipping on her coffee, when a girl, the one from the picture, burst in and announced that she was going to join the Miss Hawkridge pageant.

"Omaira, what is it now?" Their mother asked, amused.

"Well, mother, I have decided. Since society puts an immense pressure for beauty, I'm going to join the very thing that speaks up for it, a pageant," Omaira declared.

"I'm not sure joining a beauty pageant is exactly a rebellion against societal pressure on beauty standards," Liv raised eyebrow.

"Oh, my dear little sister. How little you understand. Why I am not rebelling. I am simply socialising in a different part of society in a quest of expanding my cultural taste," Omaira smiled.

"You know, I get all of that, but I can never get over how every time you hang out with Coach T. you come back with an airhead full of  romantic nonsense. Snap out of it, sister."

"Hey, I don't criticise you for reading those boorish mystery novels. Plus, Coach T. is the only person who supports me. I wouldn't expect you to understand with your mysteries. Get a life, sister."

"I'll have you know that mystery is an integral part of life. Our lives revolve around mysteries of all sorts, and I believe that attempting to solve one is a very noble thing."

"You say that as if you are saving a country, Olivia, but really, all you're doing is simply geeking out with that friend of yours."

"Okay, can you two knock it off?" Their mother chimed in. "I get it. You're both smart and love showing it off to each other every moment, but can we please allow me to have a single quiet morning to enjoy my coffee at least one day?"

"Mom, please sign my form," Omaira waved the paper in her hand, pouting. Her mother obliged.

"Omaira," their mother called her before she could run out, and Omaira peeked in. Their mother took her own neck scarf from around her neck and tied it around Omaira's. "There. So you don't get cold." She smiled. Omaira stuck her tongue out at Liv before she rushed out and closed the front door.