Little Miss Different: Short Story Collection [#Wattys2018]

2: Hope

Content note: contains themes of grief and loss - the loss of an important family member and child

About two years ago...

Lylah stood by the grave. It read: 'CLARICE SMITH - BORN 18TH JULY 2002 - DIED 23RD OCTOBER 2016'. Lylah slowly knelt down, the little peony plant nestled in plant pot's soil. As she tried to balance the little plant on the mud, the pot fell and soil spewed from the pot. Lylah's shoulders sagged and she sat there, tears drizzling down her face slowly.

She couldn't look at Clarice anymore... she had to get away from the grave. Leaving the peony lying on the ground, she walked away, boots smacking the snow. I want my sister back.

Lylah did the same thing every day: after school, she visited Clarice... and always tried to balance the peony pot, which got lighter every time. She'd always whisper, "I... miss... y... you, Clarice..."

The date was 23rd December 2016. It was exactly three months after Clarice's death. Lylah needed a new start. She couldn't stay as broken Lylah anymore.

She needed to be a new Lylah.

"Are you alright, Lylah?" asked Emma, Lylah's mum, when Lylah returned home, snowflakes dotted her hair. 

"I'm fine," murmured Lylah. "Is Kathleen coming round?"

"My girlfriend is coming round, Lylah, I told you yesterday," reminded Emma. "Did you visit Clarice?"

"Yes," said Lylah. It felt almost stupid - Clarice hadn't even been her real sister. They were both adopted. Why did it hurt so much? Surely someone's death only hurt if you were related? Clarice was the only person who'd ever died at this point in Lylah's life, so she didn't know.

"Aw, baby," said Emma, offering a hug. Lylah shook her head.

"No thanks, mum," replied Lylah, heading towards her bedroom.

Lylah's room was painted rainbow colours and plastered with posters of rainbow hearts and famous gay celebrities. She didn't really sleep in her room now because she used to share her room with Clarice. She often slept on the blow-up bed in the spare room instead. She liked that.

It was cold and nearly Christmas, but Lylah wasn't excited.

"Lylah! Dinner's ready!"

"I'm not hungry," called Lylah. She could hear Emma walking up the staircase.

"Honey, you've got to eat," she said sadly. "You can't not eat.

"I'm. Not. Hungry," said Lylah, a bit louder, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

"Lylah, it's okay to be sad, but it's not okay to not eat," explained Emma. "Do you want a fidget toy to help you calm down?"

"Mum, I don't want to be called Lylah anymore," whispered Lylah. "I want to move on."

Emma understood what her daughter meant. She associated 'Lylah' with losing Clarice and this feeling of being broken. She wanted to try to move on and associate herself with overcoming the feeling of loss. "So what do you want to be called then?"

"Winter."

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