iris auger | seven | fin

The sound of ice crunching beneath her feet was nearly constant. She walked in a fast pace, as always, on the tips of her toes to present the illusion that she was any more than five feet tall. Snowflakes stayed put as they landed on her crown, even as her blonde tresses whipped behind her with each hasty step. There was a rhythm in everything, she had decided: when rain drops fell from the sky, when tree branches tap, tap, tapped against her window in the wind: nature was a song, and she was a dancer, poised and ready to go.

She was fifteen years old, and quite possibly the shortest girl in her year. Other than a set of large, dark doe eyes that were a bit too far apart and hair that easily reached her waist, nothing about Iris Auger was big. Well, to be fair, while the rest of her had taken a break from growing years ago her ears proved relentless, and still managed to peak out of her hair no matter how much she attempted to hide them.

She pulled herself up on a log, laid across an icy river. When she listened closesly, she could hear the tiny shards of ice in the water, clinging together like wind chimes in the summer time. She remembered when she was younger, and Erron would always challenge her to balance competitions. He would always let her win, but she hadn't ever noticed until he grew up and left childish games behind in favor of the party scene.

She raised her arms to form a crooked "T" and began tiptoeing across the frozen, worn bark to the other side. The wind seemed stronger once she got about halfway through, she noticed, and colder too. It was like the cold knew she much preferred spring time and breathed with every chance it got. Chills had become a permanent sensation on the ivory of her skin. Her fingers always ached from the cold. (Olly always told her they would hurt less if she didn't crack them so much, but she did it anyway.)

Her lips were cracked and tender, and the air seemed constantly dry. But she had to admit, she found some kind of beauty in the quietness of it all. She felt more at peace with herself, more free to do as she pleased.

However, she still preferred warmth.

Which is why when her shoes caught on the log and she fell onto her stomach, she knew ice would have laced her veins without the cold to help. Her fingernails dug into the stale bark, which ripped as quickly as she grabbed. She began to slide off to one side, her heartbeat thumping in her throat. She let out a quick squeal, then plummeted into the current of the creek.

When she was six, Erron had saved her from the pond behind their house. She used to pretend she had super-powers, that if she so pleased she could do whatever she wanted. Like, for instance, if she wanted to hop across the lily pads that consumed the murky water, well...

The only problem was that she had not only began to sink into the mud and slime, but she became more and more entangled in the weeds the more she tried to save herself. Erron had pulled her out just in time for her to keep her consciousness and ever since, she swore and oath to avoid bodies of water all together.

Now, there was no one to save her, and as her sweater became lead and her pants scratched against her thighs, she held her breath because that's all she knew to do: "Hold your breath, Iris! Hold it for as long as you can!" The cold made it nearly impossible, and unfortunately, the one plan she had fell through after about five seconds of emerging in the water.

She flailed and kicked and tried to find a stable place to stand. For brief periods of time, she broke the surface and let loose a blood-curdling scream instead of taking the time to breathe. Finally, perhaps by miracle, her back slammed against the bank of the creek. She mustered all the energy she had left, and hefted herself out of the water.

Iris Auger fainted.

---

She was twelve, sitting at the dinner table. Her mother had made...something, she remembered not liking it. Her father had gone in on a work emergency, and Erron was doing his usual disappearing act, so she looked between the only two others at the too-long table. Olly, who ate with a book next to his plate, and her mother, who seemed more interested in the fact that Erron and Mister Auger were not present than the fact that she and Olly were. She stabbed broccoli stems with two forks and shredded them until her plate looked like mashed-potatoes-gone-bad.

"I just don't understand why this family is so set on falling apart!" she said at last. Iris only looked at her, and Olly barely even moved, too consumed with his book. "I mean, honestly, It's as if I am the only one willing to try!" To further her views, she started slamming her plates together in a heap.

"Rupert is working -- a g a i n !"
"Erron is gone -- a g a i n !"
"Olly isn't paying attention -- a g a i n !"
"Iris is... being..." With a sigh, she stood to leave.

"Iris is just annoying." she said as she closed the door.

---

What a treacherous, unfair thing it would have been, having that as her last thought. She would have much preferred something better -- getting high marks on her grade sheet, racing her friends through the trail on her property, having those silly balancing competitions with Erron, or begging Olly to read to her until she fell asleep. All things much better than her train wreck of a mother telling her how worthless she was.

But what she got to see was that night, for some reason, and when she opened her eyes she saw movement. She felt movement. For a second she thought, perhaps, she had died and was on her way to heaven, but then she heard Olly's voice.

"I've got you, Iris. I've got you. You're gonna be okay, Iris!"

Her world became hazy again, and she closed her eyes.

When she opened them again she was in her bed. It was morning and she shivered despite the warmth of the blankets on top of her. She looked at herself in the mirror, expecting some gruesome show of blue skin and dead eyes and a bloated, cut up, contorted face. But it was just her: Just Iris.

Just Iris, but colder.

She thought about the dream she had seen after she passed out, about her mother's cruel words. She decided that, while they were mean, perhaps they were true: at least slightly. She had obviously been wrong about her own trying to keep the family apart, but she had been right in that no one else was, either. Iris decided she would change that if it was the last thing she did.

She would make them all happy again.