Page 152 of Retribution

Beginning to unlace the ribbons, she nods her head, her brown curls swishing as she does so.

“I just wanted to be like you, Lolo.” She frowns, her bottom lip jutting out.

Pausing, I wrap my arm over her shoulder and pull her into me, her head sinking into my armpit crease.

“I know, I know. And you will be. When I was your age, I didn’t have slippers like these ones. They were different, slightly softer. These hurt your feet a lot, trust me, Pops.” I laugh slightly as she nods her head again and her tiny arms wrap around my waist.

“Really? An actual pair of Lolo’s pointe shoes?” She asks, her sweet voice warming my heart.

“Of course, that’s what big sisters are for!” I squeeze her shoulders as she pulls away from me.

“Pops pinky swear?” She holds out her pinky finger, offering it to me as she does with everyone who promises her something.

“Pops pinky swear.” I laugh, linking my pinky with hers.

Finishing unlacing her legs, I take my slippers and throw them over my shoulder.

“See ya later, we can have a movie night in my room tonight, if you’re still awake when I get back?” I say to her from the doorway.

She stands up and runs up to me, wrapping her arms around my waist.

“Always, I’ll be waiting, Lolo.”

Walking away from her door, I grab my gym bag and throw my slippers in there along with my leotard, tights and hair tie.

Throwing it over my shoulder, I dart down the staircase and straight into the kitchen.

“Mom, I need you to find a pair of my old pointe shoes for Pops. She had my new ones, again. I Pops promised her, and we all know that may as well be the law.” I laugh as Mom sits at the dining table.

My one-year old sister Olive chows down on some cucumber sticks, her gums baring at me.

“Lolly!” Olive babbles, holding a cucumber out to me.

“No thank you, Olive.” I pinch her chubby cheeks and she tries to grab onto me with her sticky hands.

Mom turns to me, her dark braided hair falls over her shoulder as she does.

“Oh, yes. I’ll get your dad to get them from the garage, I’m sure they won’t be too difficult to find.”

“Lolo!” I hear the sound of his footsteps barreling across the tiles before I see him.

Just as I turn to him, I shriek as his chocolate covered hands attack my legs.

“Wren!” I shout, raising my hands in the air in frustration.

“Oh, Wren! What have I told you about going into the pantry?” Mom rushes over, scooping him up into her arms.

I scowl at my three-year-old little brother as he giggles, pointing at my, now chocolate covered, leggings.

“Wren! Stop laughing! I’m already late.” I cringe, freeing my bag from my shoulders and dropping it to the floor.

“Sorry, Lo. I’ll get your dad to drop you off at practice, don’t worry. I’ll make sure your not late, now go and get changed.” Mom waves me off, carrying Wren over to the sink.

“Poppy! Dinner!” She shouts at the same time, lowering Wren’s hands to the bubble-filled sink.

Practically sprinting, I rush upstairs, throwing off my dirty leggings and grabbing a fresh pair of purple Lululemon’s, pulling them up my legs as fast as possible.

Slamming my door closed, I take the steps two at a time and run down the corridor.

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