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Powder is a resentful, dirty little thing.
She watches Mylo and Vi toss the ball. Claggor counts the tosses. It’s a competition she’s not been invited to.
The ball is pure white with shimmery golden accents, all leather and not a speck of dirt on it. They stole it this morning from some unassuming rich Piltie while on a job for Vander.
Powder turns her head back to the metal in her hand and twists the screw in again. She wasn’t invited to the job.
She hears Vi laugh and Mylo stumble. He must’ve almost dropped the ball but saved it because Claggor continues to count. Powder twists the screw again.
“Sorry Pow-Pow it was just a quick in-n-out.” Vi tussled her hair. “Didn’t think it was worth it to wake you up.”
Powder frowns and shakes the makeshift bomb.
“Thank Janna you didn’t.” Mylo muttered.
Claggor excitedly yells out a number.
“Mylo! Seriously?” Vi moved away from Powder.
She tightens the screw again and accidentally scuffs the blue paint. It was fresh, she had coloured it just this morning while they were on the job.
“What?” Mylo put his hands up. “It was way more easy without her screwing things up.”
Powder didn’t go.
“Don’t listen to him Pow-Pow he’s just mad about the jello cup again.”
There’s a sharp sound of shoes squeaking against the floorboards. Vi cackles and Claggor keeps counting.
“You know I’m right.” Mylo stepped closer to Vi. “Every time she comes along something goes wrong.”
The screwdriver almost slips out of her hand. She huffs in frustration.
“Mylo.” Vi growled and grabbed him by his shirt. “Shut. Up.”
She bangs the metal against the step she’s sitting on. It dents slightly on the side. She cradles it in apology but all that does is leave her with crayon stains on her new shirt.
“No!” He fought back. “Every time she comes she screws everything up!”
The stupid dent is still there.
“Today was just further proof!”
Mylo cusses Vi out. There’s another even louder squeak. Powder grips the bomb and the screwdriver.
“Admit it Vi! She’s –”
Something heavy thumps and the floor creeks. She tightens the screw again.
“... a –”
“Powder! Watch out!”
“... jinx!”
She barely has the time to look up. The ball moves with incredible speed. She tries to block it with her arms but it’s a bad move. The ball collides full force with her makeshift bomb, so it explodes, the weak scraps of metal cracking and flying everywhere. In a quick moment all of them are covered in sticky, probably unwashable pink powder.
Vi is immediately on her.
Cough cough “Powder are you –” Cough cough “Are you okay?”
Powder winces but nods. The question, however, was obviously rhetorical since Vi grabs her face anyway and looks her over. When she’s satisfied, she sighs and let's go. Her fingertips are left pink. Powder’s are bloody red. Vi doesn’t notice.
“Okay nothing serious.” She breathes out. “Are you two –”
“No man!” Mylo whines interrupting Vi. “Look at the ball!”
Powder looks down at her feet.
It’s completely ruined. The ball is torn and completely flat, it’s previous impeccable white now floor filthy and bright pink. There are pieces of metal imbedded in it from the bomb and the gold accents are shredded. If the original owner saw it now, they would never recognise it, would probably mistake it for some Undercity junk.
Powder hugs her knees and hides her bloody palms.
“I’m sorry...”
“Forget the ball.” Vi waves her hand. “C’mon let’s go grab the cleaning supplies before the old man realises the sound came from here.”
Wobbly, Powder goes to stand up, to help.
“Ah not you Pow-Pow.” Vi gently pushes her down and pats her shoulders. “You stay here in case Vander shows up. Got it?”
She nods.
Her sister reassuringly smiles at her. There is paint all over her face. Powder digs her fingers into her pink jeans.
“Claggor, Mylo let’s go.”
The other two grumble and make their way up stairs alongside Vi.
Distantly she hears Mylo complain.
“Of course she had to ruin it.”
The doors of the basement slam shut and a faint “Are you serious?” can be heard.
Powder looks down at her feet again. The ripped-up ball stares back, mocking her.
Selfishly, somewhere in the back of her mind, she’s glad it’s ruined. She’s glad she ruined it.
She picks it up and examines the torn leather. Her palms leave big bloody handprints with every touch. She laughs when she notices. She hopes Vi notices as well. She wants her to know. To worry.
After all, Powder is a resentful, dirty little thing.