This is my post for @Gmuxx's Art Prompt Writing Contest #2, titled, "The Wish."

This is @torico's photograph to use as inspiration for the story:

The Wish

Viv looked down at the locket in her hands, the familiar detail of the flowers etched into the silver temporarily blurred by her tears.

Not yet…now’s not the time.

She angrily swipes at the tears on her face as she glowers up at the girl with the pinched face standing over her.

“So what are you gonna do? Go tell the teacher about it?” Lisa holds up a binder with a picture of a glittery unicorn on the front. “Or your Mommy? Nobody cares how you feel. All you do is cry anyways, so I might as well get something out of it.”

Lisa waves the binder at Viv as if it’s some kind of trophy to lord over her, the light catching the glittery unicorn before Lisa tucks it away in her backpack.

It’s not the first time this has happened, nor is Lisa the first person to do this kind of thing to her. Viv should be used to it by now, and yet she still cries. Even the ones who called her friend a few weeks ago have deserted her. She barely wants to stand, but the locket enclosed in her hand gives her just enough strength to slowly get up, shoulder her half-open backpack and walk to the front door of the school, just as Sister Patricia stops ringing the bell and begins to close the door.

Days have been a constant barrage of tears for Viv ever since her mother passed away. Her father and her sister have each found their own ways to cope: when Dad isn’t at work, he’s in the garage fixing the antique car that never seems to run in spite of all the time he spends on it, and her sister has found a bunch of friends to hang out with most days, and nights now too.

Between home and school, there just doesn’t seem to be a place of refuge for Viv. Nowhere safe. And so she passes each day in a haze, a state of constant pain and at the same time, so tired of feeling anymore. She enters the classroom and sets her backpack, now much lighter, down on her desk and slumps into her chair.

“So nice of you to join us,” says Mrs. Erickson, a wry smile on her face as she sweeps her gaze to the rest of the class, “OK, everyone, hand in last night’s writing assignment.”

Viv looks over to Lisa with pleading eyes - surely she would let her take her assignment out to hand in! - but Lisa avoids eye contact, with only a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

No, of course she won’t, Viv sighs inwardly, resigning herself to the inevitable tongue lashing she will receive from Mrs. Erickson.

As Mrs. Erickson collects the papers as they are passed forward, making a show of looking through them, but she doesn’t really need to. She knows.

“And I see that we don’t have a completed assignment from Vivian yet again.” She walks over to Viv’s desk, hulking over her and holding out an expectant hand. “Where is your paper?”

Viv looks over to Lisa, who now seems to be fine with making eye contact, her face now broken into a full smile.

Viv looks up to Mrs. Erickson, “Lisa has it!”

Mrs. Erickson sighs dramatically and lumbers over to Lisa’s desk. “Lisa, dear, do you know what she’s talking about?”

“No, Mrs. Erickson, I have no idea where her paper is.”

And just like that, Viv knew this was not going to end well as Mrs. Erickson briskly makes her way back to her desk.

“I do NOT appreciate being lied to, young lady! If you didn’t do your homework, you should just fess up to it instead of trying to drag down other students with you!” She slammed the stack of papers on Viv’s desk, giving punctuation to her tirade.

Normally, this would be about the time when Viv would break down crying, but she finds she doesn’t have any tears left. She looks up at Mrs. Erickson and she notices her mouth is still moving, so she must still be yelling. Strangely, Viv can’t hear her. It’s as if she’s yelling underwater, and her gestures are slowed down. But Viv doesn’t need to hear nor see, for she knows what’s being said. She’s heard it before, what most other people say to her.

Instead, she turns her attention to the window next to her. It’s a cloudy, rainy day, the kind that makes the bark on the trees seem black, lending a vibrancy to the green of the leaves and the grass. And yet, somehow, it is a perfect match for her life.

Viv opens her hand and looks at the locket again, this time with a clarity she’s never had before. The intricate etching of flowers and leaves pull her in, as Mrs. Erickson’s lecture is reduced to a faint, distant murmur.

Viv carefully opens the locket so see the picture she’s stared at a millions times since her mother died. She doesn’t know who the lady is in the locket, the black and white now faded to muted tones of grey and brown, but her smile is nice and somehow familiar - this one companion in her trials.

Now’s the time, thinks Viv, turning once more to look out at the clouds in the sky, suddenly overcome with a sense of longing to be there, up in the clouds with her mother.

Then as if bidden by her wish, the clouds suddenly part in a perfect circle, letting a stream of sunlight pass through her very window, to rest upon the silvery locket and the mysterious visage within. And that is when Viv realizes that she still has hope: for even in this moment of pain, there is beauty.