This choice: Today was Emily's Track meet, and these were her lucky socks. • Go Back...Chapter #5Dingy, Faded, Polka-dot Hell by: Brosus   ...because you recognized these dingy, faded pink polka-dot socks, and they were the worst place you could have possibly landed. Even the fresh cotton smell from the wash couldn't completely mask the stink that had accumulated at the toes of these socks. You had no doubt, you were in her right lucky sock.
Emily had this pair of socks bought for her a couple years ago, and she thought they were adorable, so she had worn them. A lot. And as she entered high school and joined the track team, they had gotten abused more and more. Her first track meet she came in first, and the whole car ride back she bragged about it. You remember the day clearly from just how annoying she was being, and when you finally got home, she kicked her shoes off and pushed those same dirty socks in your face before running inside. You begrudgingly brought her shoes in for her too, since your mother was insistent you treat her nicely since she just won.
You noticed every track meet she wore those socks, even to most trainings, which you thought was odd. It wasn't until one went missing and you noticed her wearing mismatched socks that it struck you, she totally thought that sock was lucky. That's why she refused to throw it out and kept wearing it to track meets even when she looked ridiculous with one white and one dingy pink polka-dot sock on. Honestly, the things had to have stretched out, they were so old it was surprising she could still wear them...
And knowing all this about your sister makes every jostle of your cottony prison the more terrifying, because you knew she had a track meet today... and if you didn't get out of here quick, you'd be along for the ride. Emily casually tossed the sock on her bed as she dug through her laundry for a decent set of clothes, mumbling about her stupid brother not bringing them back to her. Unfortunately, the sock landed bunched up on the bed, with you stuck at the faintly fragrant toe ends. You could see out a small, frayed hole in the off-pink fabric, and desperately struggled to move... however, even the miniscule weight of a teenage girl's sock was too much for you to budge.
You took in every detail of her impossibly diant room - even one of her few remaining favorite doll's was far larger than you on her bedside table. As she threw her night pajamas off, her surprisingly large chest reminded you that she was quickly outgrowing dolls though, and blushing you looked away as she put on a sports bra. Yep, that sealed it, you were definitely going out with her to her track meet if you didn't get out. Suddenly you had an idea, and brought your mouth up to the frayed hole, chomping down and yanking - only to spit out nasty sock fuzz left from the laundry. Yep, you were doomed. Your sister, now wearing red shorts and hopping on one foot to stuff a plain white sock on her left foot, soon reached for you. Now, of all times, you wondered to yourself why exactly she always wore that pink sock on her right foot... just another ritual?
Jesus. You were about to be squished alive under your little sister's feet as she goes for a run, and you're contemplating her superstitious nature? You get one more look at her gargantuan face as she brings you downwards... waving with all your might, but getting no notice, as instead your face is brought down to her foot's level, where five wiggling digits greet you as they slide in the loose tunnel, driving you crawling backwards until you hit the wall... and you're pressed between the fragrant big and index toes of your little sister. They were fragrant from night sweat, no doubt she hadn't showered that morning, but at least she had since she'd run last, because if not you probably would have died by now. Knowing your sister like you did, maybe it was a good thing you washed her laundry for her, because she probably would've worn this damn sock anyway, and the universe seemed determined to keep you with it.
Your placement between the toes was fortunate at least in that you weren't immediately crushed to death, though the toes did warmly grip you as she walked out of her room and down the steps. She grabbed some hot sundae pop tarts and a protein shake from the kitchen, then went to the front door to slide her feet into her slick new neon green shoes. Supposedly they had better arch support or something, but for you that just meant better insulation for when she got going. As soon as you were forced in with her foot, the temperature spiked upward, and she hadn't even started moving yet. Scarfing down the first pop tart as she slid on her other shoe, Emily looked at the time. Perfect, right on schedule to get a quick jog in to Hyperion High before school started, it would be a great warm up for the track meet later that day, even if she'd end up a little fragrant by the time she got there. She carried a sweat towel in her bag for just that reason (though no one had pointed out to her yet that puberty makes sweat grow in potency, so she hadn't added deodorant to her kit just yet for some reason...)
Taking a swig from her protein shake and jamming the last pop tart into her mouth messily, she shouldered her backpack and booked it out the front door - as you felt every near fatal foot fall along the way. Sweat quickly buoyed the cotton down, and within ten minutes you got what was probably the first ever front row seat to toejam being formed as pink glop seemed to magically gather in the toe area above you. As a sweat droplet fell from the toe jam, you realized that surviving until the track meet would make you lucky... or alternatively, wish for death. Preferably one away from your little sister's big, sweaty feet.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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