Chapter 1
Poppy Laxton let out a defeated sigh as she considered the spoon before her.
The spoon that, one minute ago, had been perfectly normal… but which was now bent at a nearly ninety-degree angle, courtesy of the world’s most rock-solid, over-frozen tub of ice cream.
It had been a mistake, stopping in at the crappy convenience store on the corner, with its notoriously temperamental freezer. She’d known it was a mistake at the time. Had been able to feel the ice cream’s sheer density through the ice-frosted tub, hard as a diamond. It wasn’t so much a frozen confection as a deadly weapon.
But desperate times called for desperate measures. And Poppy was pretty sure that losing her job out of the blue counted as desperate times. If finding oneself suddenly unemployed didn’t count as the perfect time for an emergency dose of sugary comfort, what did?
So she’d grabbed the crappy ice cream and made a beeline for home before she could scream in frustration at the unfairness of it all, or start sobbing on the sidewalk in the rain, or quite possibly both.
As it was, she’d barely made it inside her apartment before the tears started pricking at her eyes. She’d swiped angrily at her face, forcing her emotions back down.
But now, staring at her newly remodeled spoon and the rock masquerading as a dessert, she found that the tears were threatening to overflow once more.
I just need one thing to go right today,she thought despairingly.Just one.
Stomping out of the kitchen, she peeled off her wet shoes and flung them into a corner to dry, before doing the same with her clothes.
Really, she needed a nice, warm shower… but it all seemed like too much effort right now, and so she settled for clean pajamas and a towel for her rain-soaked hair, topped off with her warmest slippers and her tatty old robe, which these days probably consisted more of cat hair than actual robe.
Speak of the devil…
Re-entering the kitchen, she caught the source of the cat hair on the kitchen bench, taking a leisurely sniff of the ice cream before turning up her little pink nose at it.
“Yeah, you keep on walking, missy,” Poppy said, unable to bring herself to scold the cat for being where she knew full well she oughtn’t be.
Looking up at her with big yellow eyes, the cat, Geri, reached up a paw to tap her on the shoulder – and Poppy scooped her up with a sigh, kissing the top of her head and feeling the contented rumble of her purr.
“What are we going to do with you, hey?” she murmured, rubbing Geri under her chin as the purring doubled in volume. “I guess you’ll be seeing more of me from now on. Though whether you’ll think that’s a good thing or a bad thing, I’m not sure.”
Indifferent to her musings, Geri suddenly yowled to be let down, apparently done with being sociable, and so Poppyobliged her. It was always best to bow to her whims, after all – especially since she wasn’t shy about unsheathing her claws when she felt she wasn’t being obeyed with sufficient hastiness.
One of Poppy’s old roommates, Krystelle – who had had a somewhat quirky streak – had bequeathed the name Geraldina upon the cat when she and her claws had first showed up on their doorstep. Krystelle had said that the name meantRules With Spear, claiming that it was an appropriate name for such a fearsome warrior.
Poppy couldn’t really argue with that. Geri had mellowed a lot in her old age, but she was still a force to be reckoned with.
Staring at the ice cream – which, improbably, appeared to have somehow frozen into an even harder state – Poppy racked her brain for a moment, suddenly feeling so overwhelmed that she was barely capable of thought.
What do I do now? What on earth will I do? I have no job. How am I supposed to get a good reference when the company has gone under and my boss has skipped town? I’m doomed.
Oh, God.
Dragging her mind painfully back into gear, she wrapped the frosty ice cream tub in a tea towel and set it down on the kitchen table with an almightythump, before grabbing a new spoon.
Flopping down into a chair, she began the careful task of scraping some of the ice cream off the top with the very tip of the spoon, working hard to extract even the tiniest hint of something edible.
At last, after several minutes of careful excavation work, she held up her prize: a tiny sliver of hot-pink substance that quivered on the edge of the spoon.
“Here goes nothing,” she muttered, before tentatively putting it into her mouth.
The first thing she could taste was simply mouth-numbingcold. It was several seconds before the flavor started to filterthrough: allegedlyStrawberry Delight, but in actuality justHorrible Chemical-Laden Fruit-Adjacent Melange.
Throwing down her spoon in disgust, she let out a yell, attempting to grab her hair in exasperation before remembering that it was wrapped in a towel. The towel fell to the floor, leaving her wet, thick, curly hair exposed to the open air – and oh, wasn’tthatgoing to be a fun pile of frizz to deal with when it dried?
Just one thing! I just needonething to go right! Please!
She buried her face in her hands for a long, long minute, letting the frustration and rage flow through her – before eventually taking a few slow breaths and trying to get some perspective.
