Bonnie-Sue Hitchcock - Everyone Dies Famous in a Small Town

Gina pushed the metal snow shovel across the ice, carving a path that she and Poppy could then skate on. Well, if Poppy would quit whining and get her skates laced. Somehow Gina had gotten roped into taking her dads girlfriends kid to the pond. Shed only relented because it was minus twenty outside and Poppy had looked horrified at the idea. Her dads getting a new girlfriend had given Ginas anger a whole new lease on life.

Until recently, shed thought it had been waning, but mostly it just smoldered inside her rib cage. It was exhausting, being herself, fighting so hard all the time. She had been almost ready to just give up and let it all go. Moving on was what her counselor called it, and Gina wondered if she meant they should pack up and leave town, start over somewhere that did not remind Gina so much of her mother.

Instead, the girlfriend, Libby, had arrived with her cute little daughter, and poof! It was as if someone had thrown kerosene on Ginas smoldering briquettes of anger. She could feel the flames leaping, the heat licking her sternum. On really cold days, it was almost nice.

Sure, Ill take Poppy over to the pond to skate, she heard herself say. We could even hitch Alpaca up to the sled and have him pull us over.

Alpaca was their oldest huskyher mothers favoriteand the trip would take twice as long with him. Gina smiled smugly to herself, thinking of her otter-fur mittens that never let the cold get anywhere near her fingers. Poppys, shed noticed, were down and Gore-Tex, no comparison to animal skins.

Her dad, though, had smiled at Poppy and said, You know, I think we have some of Ginas mittens from when she was little that you should wear. And Ill put the caribou hide in the sled so you stay toasty warm. Then, to make matters worse, hed even given her the fur hat Ginas mother had sewed while her hands were still able to pull the needle through the stiff leather on the inside.

That was a long time ago, before the disease had attacked her mothers joints. By the end it had kept her from even writing her name. Gina wished she could forget the image of her moms bent fingers gripping a stubby pencil as if her life depended on signing her name one last time. That image was all Gina had left, unless you counted a father who would move on with another woman and smile sweetly at that womans daughter. Maybe he thought Gina was a lost cause because she had read a book through the funeral, refusing to look at anyone or anything, especially the casket. She hadnt known what else to do.

All she had really wanted was for someone to tell her it was okay to fall apart, but nobody did.

The disease was the reason her mom had stopped harnessing up the dogs to go to the corner store, the same one that Gina pulled into on the way to the pond while Poppy sat in the sled, talking to herself.

What did you say? Gina asked, stepping off the runners to tie Alpaca to the post.

I was talking to Elizabeth.

Whos Elizabeth?

Shes my best friend. Shes right here. Poppy patted the empty seat beside her.

Gina blinked at Poppy and felt her lashes sticking together, moisture freezing them in tight crystals. She put her fur gloves over her eyes for a couple of seconds until the crystals melted and she could pry her lashes apart. But Poppy was still all alone, sitting in the sled.

She had overheard Libby telling her father about Poppys invisible friend. We think its her way of coping.

But then theyd noticed Gina standing in the hallway. Libby put on a fake smile and changed the subject.

Gina refused to ask her father anything, preferring instead to ignore Libbys appearance in her life because ignoring things was Ginas superpower.

She really didnt care if Poppy had invented a friend to fix whatever she needed to cope with. Gina had her own things to deal with and didnt appreciate having someone elses kid dumped in her lap. Or her dogsled.

Whatever, she said. Stay here. Im going to get a treat for Alpaca.

Inside she walked toward the wooden wine barrel full of dog biscuits that sat in the middle of the room. Honestly, the place was nothing more than a log cabin pop-up store that catered to locals, so dog treats were the best-stocked item, followed by Twinkies, motor oil, herring bait in the summer, and assorted whiskeys all year round. The prices were ridiculous, though. Who needed a toothbrush bad enough to pay ten bucks for it? Her dad had carved her one out of a carrot once, telling her to make do until they could go to the bigger store in town, where things were much cheaper.

Just pushing open the door and walking inside had made Gina miss her mother so much she thought she might have to sit down. Would she ever not be overwhelmed by this place? It was one of her oldest memories, them coming here together on the sled. But it was such a long time ago she felt silly that her legs still reacted this way, going all wobbly beneath her.

Before Gina had been even Poppys age, her mom had stopped putting her on the caribou skin in the bed of the sled and stopped laughing at the way Gina hid her face when the poop came flying out of the dogs butts as they ran, her little head just at the right height for the smell to come wafting back into her nose.

Gina had loved it when the sled had swung up onto the snowbank, and shed leaned side to side, afraid to fall out but also not, because she could hear her moms crisp, high laugh saying it was okay; nothing bad could happen to her while they were together.