Shower Stories

In Which Trinket Befriends the Ice Queen

Rosebud Sampson
8.2.14
In Which Trinket Befriends the Ice Queen
A One Shot

"Trinket Smalls!" She heard her name being shouted the moment she stepped off the bus and she didn't have to turn around to know that a majority of her classmates had their noses pressed against the window to watch the after school special known as Trinket arriving home from classes. It didn't take long for the woman to bang through the flimsy front door of their trailer, glaring at her kid from the porch.

"Yes Mama?" Trinket responded warily, feeling heat rising to her cheeks, and she wished more than anything that she could turn invisible and the bus driver would just leave already. Mr. Harrelson refused. He waited until she went inside every afternoon before he left. Secretly, Trinket thought he was worried that her mother hit her. He sometimes had reason to be.

Mrs. Smalls glared furiously at her daughter. "You didn't finish your chores this morning!" she shouted, not caring who heard. She wasn't one for thinking about whether or not she was disturbing the peace. Not that the neighbors seemed to mind much anyway. Trinket suspected that her family was the neighborhood's free entertainment.

Trinket tried to keep the scowl from her face as she stared down at her untied shoelaces. "I did. I promise," she answered, her voice just barely above a whisper.

Mrs. Smalls let out a grumbled incoherent response as she stormed toward her daughter threateningly. Trinket didn't move an inch. She'd long since learned that being afraid made her mother angrier. "Don't lie to me," the woman sneered. And Trinket knew just by looking into her eyes that her mom wasn't really mad at her.

"I'm not-" Trinket tried to protest, but before she could finish Mrs. Smalls snatched her arm and dragged her toward their tiny little house.

"You know how I know you're lying?" Mrs. Smalls growled, her strawberry scented breath fanning her daughter, making her stomach growl embarrassingly. Trinket shook her head, afraid that if she spoke her voice would shake and her mother would berate her for being weak. "The trash is overflowing and the dishes aren't finished," she snapped.

Trinket's eyes widened, and her gaze shot to her father sitting on the couch in the front room with a beer in one hand while he scratched his butt with the other. He noticed her gaze instantly and smiled sheepishly. "B-b-but Dad said-" she tried to get out.

"No use trying to get out of this one," Mrs. Smalls snarled; ready as always to dole out the punishments. "When you get home tonight I expect twice as much in tips. Understood? Now go get ready for work," she demanded of the girl. Trinket thanked her lucky stars that it was one of her workdays and nodded her head vigorously.

"Yes ma'am," she responded. And when she passed her father she shot him a disparaging look. "You owe me," she mouthed at him. Her father winked and gave her a thumb's up, but she knew he wouldn't pay her back for taking the blame. He'd promised to finish her chores in exchange for ten dollars, but as usual, he didn't follow through. Which meant, not only was she short ten dollars for her mother, she would also have to clean more after she got home.

She'd just barely slipped into what she called her work clothes - which were actually just dingier versions of her normal clothes - and reached the front door, when she spotted her mother glaring at her pointedly. "I want a hundred dollars today," the woman stated when Trinket was almost out the door. The girl stopped in her tracks, whirling on her mother, and letting the door slam closed behind her.

"A hundred?" she repeated. "But I need-"

Anger flashed in Mrs. Smalls' eyes. She slammed her fist on the table, before shooting up out of the chair and stalking toward her daughter. "Don't back talk me little girl. Your father's not here right now, so I wouldn't be so mouthy with me if I were you," the woman snarled, her icy blue eyes flashing with hatred.