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rainbowfic2016-10-01 11:01 pm
kay_brooke) wrote in rainbowfic2016-10-01 11:01 pm
Entry tags:
Aqua #23, Plant Party #12, Ruby #5
Name: kay_brooke
Story: Unusual Florida
Colors: Aqua #23 (Winter), Plant Party #12 (Briar Rose), Ruby #5 (windowsill)
Styles/Supplies: Canvas
Word Count: 1,008
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply.
Summary: Spring comes to Sam's house.
Note: Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
Sam heard Todd's truck before she could see it, the clanking and rattling reverberating off the press of houses along the street, the smell of exhaust hanging in the hazy air. Then she did see it as it rounded the corner, a shuddering pickup whose color might have once been blue before it turned to rust, and she sighed as it slowed down even more and turned onto the gravel out in front of her house.
She got down from the table before Todd could leave the truck and headed toward her room, hoping that if she was fast enough she might make it.
Her dad's hand landed on her shoulder. Too late. "Todd's here. You ready?"
"I don't wanna go." Sam eyed her bedroom door sadly. Behind it was all her art supplies, and she had hoped if her dad caught her in the middle of a project he would let her stay home. But who was she kidding? She'd tried to slip out the back door that morning, intending to spend the entire Saturday somewhere not around her house and not easily findable. But her dad had caught her then, too.
Her dad frowned. "We do this every year. What's your problem this year?"
"It’s still winter. It's too early," she complained, and that was when Todd burst into the house, tall and broad-shouldered, his dark hair buzzed short, a wolf tattoo taking up his entire upper arm.
"Too early!" he cried, snatching Sam up and twirling her around. She shrieked and batted at him; she was thirteen, way too old for Todd to treat her like a little kid. "You know what they say about an early spring!"
"What do they say?" Sam asked, annoyed, as Todd finally let go of her.
"Don't know," he said with a grin. "But I say it means a nice bit of pocket change when all is said and done." He nodded to Sam's dad. "You got yours?"
"Around the back."
Sam trudged after them as they headed toward the woodpile, not bothering to argue. They were definitely not going to let her get away with not helping them carry the wood to Todd's truck.
She passed her mom and her sister on the way, both of them sitting on the floor, her mom watching as Kristie batted two heavily-muscled action figures together. "Sam!" the six-year-old yelled. "Come play with me!"
"She's gotta go with Daddy," said Sam's mom, but Sam saw an opportunity and took it.
"I'll stay here and play with Kristie," she said. "You can go help Dad and Todd."
Her mom shook her head. "You're too young to babysit your sister by yourself."
"I'm thirteen!" Sam cried.
“Sam,” said her mom, in her “I’m not going to argue with you” voice.
“Sam!” came her dad’s cry from the back door at the same time.
“Go help your dad,” said her mom. “You guys do this every year. Why’s it so inconvenient for you this year?”
“It’s boring,” said Sam. “Sitting by the side of the road all day. Why can’t I enjoy my free time?”
Her mom gave her the stink eye. “Because it’s money,” she said, “and your dad needs help.”
There really was no arguing with that one. “Fine,” said Sam, drawing the word out as if even it was reluctant to move. “But I never get any of the money.”
“You get it in food on the table and clothes on your back,” her mom snapped, all patience gone now. Kristie frowned at the tension and hugged her action figures to her chest. “Now go.”
Sam went, throwing a little stomp into her step just to show that she hadn’t completely backed down.
By the time she got to the backyard Todd and her dad had already started hauling the wood out to the truck, which was already half full of wood from Todd’s own pile. It really wasn’t winter anymore, by anyone’s account. The trees out back were putting out leaves now, her mom’s rose bushes peppered with soft pink buds. And Sam did know what an early spring meant: an early tourist season, specifically campers come up to hike the mountains outside town. Campers needed firewood, and out-of-towners usually didn’t bring their own because of the local regulations about what kind of wood was allowed to be burned at the campsites.
And out-of-towners usually had a lot of money, which meant a nice day’s work for someone who was prepared.
Her dad and Todd had been running their little side of the road business for as long as Sam could remember, maybe even before she was born. And she always went with them because, as Todd explained to her, everyone liked to stop and buy stuff from a cute little kid.
Problem was, she wasn’t such a cute little kid anymore, but her dad still made her go, and Kristie, who much better fit the bill now, got to stay home and play with her toys.
It was so unfair.
“Get a move on,” called her dad from around the front of the house, and Sam sighed and trudged toward Todd’s truck, now nearly titled beneath the weight of firewood.
“Can Kristie come with us next time?” she asked, sliding into the truck and settling herself on the seat between Todd and her dad.
“Maybe,” said her dad. “But you know how she gets. She’ll be screaming to go home before five minutes are up.”
Sam crossed her arms and realized her mistake. Maybe if she’d acted like a brat and thrown tantrums all the time she wouldn’t be stuck doing this crap now. But she’d always been the well-behaved one, and she didn’t know if she had it in her to just start throwing a fit, not even when she’d been Kristie’s age.
Which was also unfair.
Todd started the truck and Sam watched mournfully as they pulled away from her house and all her art supplies. Maybe tomorrow her dad would let her stay home.
kay_brookeStory: Unusual Florida
Colors: Aqua #23 (Winter), Plant Party #12 (Briar Rose), Ruby #5 (windowsill)
Styles/Supplies: Canvas
Word Count: 1,008
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply.
Summary: Spring comes to Sam's house.
Note: Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
Sam heard Todd's truck before she could see it, the clanking and rattling reverberating off the press of houses along the street, the smell of exhaust hanging in the hazy air. Then she did see it as it rounded the corner, a shuddering pickup whose color might have once been blue before it turned to rust, and she sighed as it slowed down even more and turned onto the gravel out in front of her house.
She got down from the table before Todd could leave the truck and headed toward her room, hoping that if she was fast enough she might make it.
Her dad's hand landed on her shoulder. Too late. "Todd's here. You ready?"
"I don't wanna go." Sam eyed her bedroom door sadly. Behind it was all her art supplies, and she had hoped if her dad caught her in the middle of a project he would let her stay home. But who was she kidding? She'd tried to slip out the back door that morning, intending to spend the entire Saturday somewhere not around her house and not easily findable. But her dad had caught her then, too.
Her dad frowned. "We do this every year. What's your problem this year?"
"It’s still winter. It's too early," she complained, and that was when Todd burst into the house, tall and broad-shouldered, his dark hair buzzed short, a wolf tattoo taking up his entire upper arm.
"Too early!" he cried, snatching Sam up and twirling her around. She shrieked and batted at him; she was thirteen, way too old for Todd to treat her like a little kid. "You know what they say about an early spring!"
"What do they say?" Sam asked, annoyed, as Todd finally let go of her.
"Don't know," he said with a grin. "But I say it means a nice bit of pocket change when all is said and done." He nodded to Sam's dad. "You got yours?"
"Around the back."
Sam trudged after them as they headed toward the woodpile, not bothering to argue. They were definitely not going to let her get away with not helping them carry the wood to Todd's truck.
She passed her mom and her sister on the way, both of them sitting on the floor, her mom watching as Kristie batted two heavily-muscled action figures together. "Sam!" the six-year-old yelled. "Come play with me!"
"She's gotta go with Daddy," said Sam's mom, but Sam saw an opportunity and took it.
"I'll stay here and play with Kristie," she said. "You can go help Dad and Todd."
Her mom shook her head. "You're too young to babysit your sister by yourself."
"I'm thirteen!" Sam cried.
“Sam,” said her mom, in her “I’m not going to argue with you” voice.
“Sam!” came her dad’s cry from the back door at the same time.
“Go help your dad,” said her mom. “You guys do this every year. Why’s it so inconvenient for you this year?”
“It’s boring,” said Sam. “Sitting by the side of the road all day. Why can’t I enjoy my free time?”
Her mom gave her the stink eye. “Because it’s money,” she said, “and your dad needs help.”
There really was no arguing with that one. “Fine,” said Sam, drawing the word out as if even it was reluctant to move. “But I never get any of the money.”
“You get it in food on the table and clothes on your back,” her mom snapped, all patience gone now. Kristie frowned at the tension and hugged her action figures to her chest. “Now go.”
Sam went, throwing a little stomp into her step just to show that she hadn’t completely backed down.
By the time she got to the backyard Todd and her dad had already started hauling the wood out to the truck, which was already half full of wood from Todd’s own pile. It really wasn’t winter anymore, by anyone’s account. The trees out back were putting out leaves now, her mom’s rose bushes peppered with soft pink buds. And Sam did know what an early spring meant: an early tourist season, specifically campers come up to hike the mountains outside town. Campers needed firewood, and out-of-towners usually didn’t bring their own because of the local regulations about what kind of wood was allowed to be burned at the campsites.
And out-of-towners usually had a lot of money, which meant a nice day’s work for someone who was prepared.
Her dad and Todd had been running their little side of the road business for as long as Sam could remember, maybe even before she was born. And she always went with them because, as Todd explained to her, everyone liked to stop and buy stuff from a cute little kid.
Problem was, she wasn’t such a cute little kid anymore, but her dad still made her go, and Kristie, who much better fit the bill now, got to stay home and play with her toys.
It was so unfair.
“Get a move on,” called her dad from around the front of the house, and Sam sighed and trudged toward Todd’s truck, now nearly titled beneath the weight of firewood.
“Can Kristie come with us next time?” she asked, sliding into the truck and settling herself on the seat between Todd and her dad.
“Maybe,” said her dad. “But you know how she gets. She’ll be screaming to go home before five minutes are up.”
Sam crossed her arms and realized her mistake. Maybe if she’d acted like a brat and thrown tantrums all the time she wouldn’t be stuck doing this crap now. But she’d always been the well-behaved one, and she didn’t know if she had it in her to just start throwing a fit, not even when she’d been Kristie’s age.
Which was also unfair.
Todd started the truck and Sam watched mournfully as they pulled away from her house and all her art supplies. Maybe tomorrow her dad would let her stay home.
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