If I Fall Read Online Free Page A

once again. Focused on keeping my promise to my mother, I do not think about the ash’s origins—about the people, buildings, and memories that create the silky deposit.
    No, instead, I am walking through snow. The pieces of debris floating through the air are flower petals caught on the breeze. And everyone is just playing hide-and-go-seek; we, of course, are the seekers. Yes, everything is not as bad as it seems.
    At least, that’s what I pretend.

4 SNEAKING
    The horn’s dismal cry cuts through the crowd, and my head snaps up.
    “Dela, do hurry!” I yell.
    “I’m almost done,” she grumbles. “There.” She steps out from behind the trash bin and smiles. “How do I look?”
    “Like a boy,” I say matter-of-factly.
    “Perfect.” She shoots me a girlish grin and steps by me. Her trouser hems drag on the ground, and she tries desperately to hold them up. It is a shame we hadn’t found knickerbockers. They would have been a much better fit, I think.
    Unfortunately, Daniel Thompson was about two times the size of my dainty sister. The blazer is far too long, but it serves its purpose. I tighten my tie and lower my bowler hat. I pat my chest, wondering if it is evident I am not a man.
    I follow Dela out onto the cobblestone street, leaving our dresses in the alley. We will not need them where we are going. Makeshift shops rise up on either side of us. Colorful fabrics and glittering jewelry cascade over the sides of some fronts, creating a waterfall of glorious teals and fuchsias, emeralds and silvers. The sweet scent of fresh baked goods mixes with the salt-filled air. Hawkers stand outside. Their commanding voices permeate the small space as they try desperately to make a sale.
    “Bread, my dear boy … to bring home to your family, perhaps?” a woman says to Dela, a loaf of bread outstretched in her grimy hands. My sister shakes her head, but sneaks me a grin, for our charade is working.
    “Care for some flowers, lad? A good looking man such as yourself must have a lady, eh?” a man with a bushy mustache says to me. Lovely. I’m a handsome boy, but an awkward girl. Funny how things work out. I straighten my tie and shake my head.
    “No, thank you,” I say, my voice too high. It has given me away for sure. Dela shoots me a look. “I mean … No, thank you, sir,” I try again, taking on a deep and gravelly tone. The man nods, turning away.
    A tiny smirk pricks at my lips in triumph before I hear him whisper to his wife, “No wonder he hasn’t got a lady. Poor lad hasn’t even hit puberty yet.” His wife clucks her tongue in sympathy. A blush warms my cheeks and raises red splotches along the back of my neck. Hurriedly, I catch up to Dela.
    The horn lets out its mournful call once again and we make haste, nearly being trampled by a carriage on our way to the pier. The bitter smell of the sea makes my nose wrinkle, and I lust for the sweet smell of the lilac in my garden. They always bloomed so beautifully this time of year. I picture their stems burned to crisps, and a chill passes through me. I shall miss that garden.
    “Elvira, what shall we do?” Dela pulls at my sleeve and I stare down at her girly-boy face peeking out from beneath her homburg. Its wide brim conceals her crystal blue eyes.
    Looking before me, I gasp at the sheer size of the RMS Celtic resting on the water. It is a monstrosity. Passengers stand on the three decks, waving to their families and friends below. Over six temporary walkways lead up to the ship from the dock. People bustle around us, moving up the walks onto the ship as workers take their bags. A woman walks by me wearing lavish pearls and a long purple dress with a pigeon breast. The latest style. I stare dolefully at my oversized sacker coat and matching waistcoat. As much as I hate dresses, I must admit they are much more flattering. I pull at the stiff collar resting just beneath my jaw.
    Distracted by the sight of a car being lifted by a crane, I dismiss my itching