I take a quick look at Snow’s dress. Her dress falls in honey-golden ruffles, and her dress hangs off one shoulder. Her pitch-black hair shines in a sleek braid, and her mask is thin and golden, with white dotted designs on the outside of one eye-hole. Unfortunately, she kind of ruined the dress with her neon blue and pink swirls across it, and likewise for her mask. I bet the stylists weren’t too happy with that.
Suddenly, a gate opens, and we file into a grand, large ballroom with masks on the walls around the room, ribbons splayed out beside them. But this ballroom is much too large for just us. Why would they rent it for just one class? After all, each teacher has only one period a day.
My question is answered when a gate on the other side of the room opens, revealing- oh, no, no. No, this is not happening. Princes wearing “dashing” suits and masks come in from the gate, pouring in to mingle with us princesses, like ants to a pile of sugar. One manages to make his way over to me, asking me for a first dance. I go along with him, trying to stay as far away from him as I can get, but he pulls me towards him. I practically gag, and am glad when the song changes. Pippa has managed to latch onto some poor boys arm, who is trying to pull away. In a few seconds some of his gallant friends come to rescue him, shouldering in between him and Pippa, and all the other boys rush to find a partner before Pippa reaches them.
I retreat into a corner, only to find some princess already there. I recognize her as Annaliese Marci from Raquel, a red-headed, soft-spoken sweet girl who is quiet and shy. She wears a silver dress with gold designs, suiting her perfectly. Her mask is silver with gold swirls around the outside of one eye slit, and has little gold tassels coming off the bottom. She seems to want to be avoiding the conversation also, because whenever a prince comes close, she tries to fade into the wall.
But then, Ms. Ella starts to speak loudly.
“And now, the moment that we’ve all been waiting for: The perfect couple of the dance! Ms. Zel and I have been scouting for the best-dressed couple, and the people we pick will get the honor to dance with everyone watching!
Now, here’s the couple: El-” I freeze, a scream trapped in my throat, and Ms. Ella continues-”Elijah Alexander and Sidelle Simone!” I breathe a giant sigh of relief, sinking to the floor. Annaliese does likewise, collapsing into a silver puddle on the marble tiles. Sidelle appears to be horrified, clasping the prince’s hand gingerly and withdrawing into a shell. After a few minutes that seem like hours, the romantic song ends, and Ms. Zel steps up on stage, her eyes cutting through the audience like knives, landing on a few people specifically. I notice her sharp gaze fall on Pippa, too.
Ms. Zel starts to speak, her voice sharp as her eyes. “And now, the moment you’ve all been dreading: we will announce if you have passed on failed.” What?! This is public? One part of me wants to back into a wall and run, the other having to find out. But before I can decide, new words spill from Ms. Zel’s lips. “I will announce the failures first.” A murmur starts to rise from the crowd, gradually morphing into an uproar. Again, Ms. Zel’s eyes seek out certain people.
“As the tradition is ladies first, we shall start with them. The ones who will not be moving to advanced makeup/fashion. These people are Philippa Helene, Adela Caroline, Cecily Dorothea, and last and least by far, Pippa Meredith.” The crowd backs away from them, then encircles them, like a ring. Most of the failures look sad, or frightened, or something.
But Pippa is plain scary. Her polka-dotted face is mushed up, her mouth forming a large pink pout, her eyes squinty. She lashes out at anyone who comes within a few inches of her, and I kind of want to poke her with a stick to see what happens.
But apparently someone else wants to do that also, and succeeded. Pippa goes rabid. She snarls, practically foaming at the mouth, and strong muscled guards come to drag her out of the room, her high heels making scratches across the floor.
For a split second, everybody gapes at her, looking from her psycho figure to the deep indents in the floor. The prince’s teacher starts to read the failures of his list, but most people are still staring at the marks in the expensive marble tile. Then people start to murmur nervously, and some go to comfort the forlorn princesses and princes who had failed.
Me? I just take the opportunity to get out of the room. But I have to go back to our classroom in ten minutes for the announcement of the next event. For some inexplicable reason, I have a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. The ten minutes is over way too soon, and I find myself rushing back to the classroom, my fancy dress hiked up to my knees and my tight teetering on my arms. Before I enter, I take a moment to smooth out my dress, slip on my shoes, and straighten my hair, entering the classroom poised and graceful. I sit down in my chair, glancing around to meet the gazes of a few of my classmates.
In a few minutes, Mrs. Ella starts to speak.
“Our next challenge is most likely the most important one of all, and the one you shall have the shortest time on. You have one week only. Spend your time wisely. This assignment is the prince’s choosing of his future bride.
A fact about the prince: His favorite animal is the peacock. That’s all the information he would give. Begin.”
I quickly grab a sheet of cardstock and sketch the basic outline of a girl. I pencil in a dress with the top starting from a few inches beneath my shoulders with a heart top, the skirt flowing to the ground smoothly.
When Mrs. Ella dismisses us, I jot down a couple ideas for next class and fall asleep in my room as soon as I lie down.
My alarm rings before I know it, and I’m up and changing into my uniform. I slip into my sandals and sluggishly shove some non-calorific food in my mouth. I think we’re on some kind of diet- the cinnamon buns seem to have been replaced with whole-grain bran muffins, and the sugary cereal with plain oatmeal with no sugar or raisins. Bleah.
I wash the sleep out of my eyes with some lukewarm water and head down to class. But there’s a large notice on the board! In preparation for the prince’s choosing of his bride, the biggest event of several, several years, the only classes will be fashion and hair+makeup.
Wow- that’s a pretty big leap! But then I look at my changed schedule and realize I only have a couple minutes to get to class, so I quit studying the notice and hurry down.
With no pause, Mrs. Ella passes out our drawings while speaking briskly.
“For the first half of the day, you will be with me. For the second, in hair and makeup. Begin.”
I glance at my sheet of cardstock, wondering what I should do. Suddenly I have a flash of inspiration- I can emphasize the peacock! Namely, my dress will be a peacock! But how? I could use shades of green and blue, or draw wings- wait! That’s it! Wings! Feathers!
The rest of the morning, I cover my gown with vibrant green and blue feathers. I draw each feather with excruciating detail, each bold color perfectly placed. It’s no wonder that I don’t finish by lunchtime.
I quickly finish lunch and head over to Ms. Zel’s room. I only have to wait a few minutes for the bell to ring. As with Ms. Ella, she wastes no time on introductions and jumps straight into passing out the papers. She says only “Begin”, and then we start to work again.
I let the hair stay naturally wavy, but I need to add onto the peacock theme. Starting on the right side, I add vibrant hues of blue and purple and green. As I work down to the middle, the colors lighten more and more until they fade into blond. Adding a couple more highlights of color, I move onto the makeup. I color the lips soft pink. That doesn’t look right, though, so on the left I lightly add black lipstick and smudge it into the pink.
Just then, the next bell rings, and I walk back to the house, grab dinner from the table, and settle down in my room. My eyes flutter closed until I can’t keep them open any longer, and I sink into a peaceful sleep.
Chapter 7
I startle awake when a bird chirps, then stretch and yawn. But as I remember the day, butterflies settle in my stomach. It’s the day before the prince’s choosing of his
bride, and I rush to get to class early. I grab an apple and toast for breakfast, taking alternate bites as I walk down to class. I settle into my seat a few minutes before the bell rings, waiting for Mrs. Ella.
She starts to pass out the papers when the bell rings. I study mine carefully, looking for faults or imperfections. The shoulderless dress, including the sleeves, is covered with colorful feathers of bright green and blue. The sandals are colored in a representation of peacock feathers, lacing up my ankle. The pendant of my necklace and gems on my rings and bracelets all are ringed with bright blue, fading into deep blue and the middle is green.
And best of all, the defining feature is the fan that spreads out behind the dress. The dozens of feathers seem to ripple in a beautiful pattern, falling in a smooth, graceful arc around my head and shoulders. To put it simply, my dress is gorgeous. It puts my last dress to shame. I add dashes of color, just fixing things and generally being nervous until makeup.
As I stare at the page of pencil, I am amazed all over again. The pink lips with a smear of black, eyeshadow with hues of bright and dark blue, pink, gray, and black. The long eyelashes with a tint of green and blue at the edges. The black eyelash-like marks just below my eyes. The soft pink blush below my cheekbones. The small peacock feathers attached directly over my eyeshadow, the tiny strands in each feather split into sections that spread out over my eyelid and brush strands of the beautiful hair.
And the hairpiece? It’s a silver tiara, beautiful with little streaks of blue and green. Just the the left of the crown of the tiara is two peacock feathers, standing tall and perfect.
Yes, okay, maybe I copied things from the books and magazines in both classrooms. But that doesn’t make this outfit one bit less amazing.
I add finishing touches again, until the bell rings. Then, knowing how well rested I’ll need to be tomorrow, I eat a banana for dinner, then let sleep overcome me.
The beeping alarm wakes me early in the morning. I throw on a tank top and tight shorts so I don’t have to do any changing during the preparation. Then I hurry down to the room where Harper and Autumn stand. Both of them greet me warmly, but don’t waste much time before seating me in the chair. Again, they brandish their blush brushes and eyeliners like weapons and attack my face. First Harper strokes pink onto my cheeks while Autumn does my lips with soft pink and black.
Then, after some murmuring and gesturing, they start on my eyes, one to each lid. Each wield a tool not unlike a paintbrush, and a peacock feather. Harper starts with metallic blue outside my eye, but after that I can’t see what colors she uses. Autumn does likewise, although she has to make a visible effort to be gentle. I feel the urge to twitch and jump, but with a great deal of discipline, stifle it. Finally, with the last coat of eye shadow, Harper and Autumn each takes her feather and slowly, carefully spread a sticky substance on the back and press it above me eye, spreading each strand out painstakingly. Then, as the finishing touch, they add the fake eyelashes with the dash of color at the edge.
They allow me a one-minute walking break before they start on my hair, and my limbs are glad to stretch. I roll my shoulders and shake my body out before Autumn shoulders me back to the chair, looking happy for some rough physical contact.
Harper presses a red button that makes the chair lie flat and I scoot back so that my head hangs over the edge into a tub of hot water. Autumn mercilessly rubs my scalp with a gritty shampoo that certainly succeeds in taking knots out of my hair, and also manages to bring tears to my eyes. But I refuse to let them spill over, blinking until I have them under control. Then, to my extreme relief, Harper takes over and finishes with the conditioner and combing. Not the most pleasant experience, but much better than if Autumn had done it.
Then they open a closet to display an impressive array of dyes. Each select one, the scowl returning to Autumn’s face because she has to be careful and gentle. Harper first chooses the lightest shade of green imaginable and covers half my hair with it. Slowly, gradually, and in less amounts each time, they add a color that’s darker by the slightest shade from the one before it. Finally they add seemingly random streaks of color through the hair, but because these people are Autumn and Harper, I am sure that they are far from random.
They tweak my hair a little bit, snipping a lock here and there, tucking a strand behind my ear, adding a streak of color to my hair, until both simultaneously step back and nod, satisfied. Then each take a bottle- reading the labels, I’m pretty sure that one is to keep the color intact, the other to keep the hair in it’s shape- and lightly spray my hair.
Then Autumn, looking pleased once more, smiles sweetly at me while shoving me hard from behind, leading me to a dressing room. Harper takes out a dress- my dress- and helps me wear it, lowering it over my head and adjusting it slightly. Then she takes out the tiara and carefully places it on my head, slowly so that she won’t mess up my hair. Finally, both circle me slowly, occasionally darting out to straighten a feather or to adjust the way the dress falls.
Faces impassive, they lead me backwards to a mirror. As they turn me around, I am shocked. For a moment, I don’t recognize the person in the mirror. She is beautiful, perfect, not at all like me. The feathers look so natural on her, the arc behind her amazing. But I slowly realize that this beautiful, wonderful person is me.
For some reason, I remember myself sitting in a tree, tied down with leaves, the opposite of fashion and beauty. How did she turn into me, the flawless peacock girl? I pause for a moment, contemplating. Then I snap out of my trance, and stare mesmerized at the girl in the mirror.
After a couple minutes, Autumn taps- more like punches- me on the shoulder, and I thank both of them profusely before heading out to the room where me and my classmates will wait before the choosing. I gnaw on my lip nervously as I walk down the hall.
As I enter the room, I see that I am one of the last ones in. Almost everyone else is chatting among themselves, but as more people catch sight of me, the conversations stop. I can see most people in blues and greens, like peacocks, and a couple with a random peacock feather here and there, but I am obviously the most perfect person in the room, even ahead of Sidelle, who has a feather crown, but never thought of covering the whole dress in them.
As Mrs. Ella comes in, her eyes widen at the sight of me, but, quickly controls her expression. She leads us all into the humongous room, and we watch all the other princesses file in.
But what’s this? All of them are themed as different animals! One group is zebras, made clear by the black stripes running across their white dresses. Another is fish, with shimmery silver scales and some with nets for veils. Yet one more is geckos, with shiny green dresses and orange highlights.
Ms. Zel says, “As you can most likely tell, each teacher gave their students a different “prince’s favorite animal.” Kind of like a mascot, I suppose, but we did this so not so many dresses would be similar.” Our group looks sympathetically at the platypus group.
“Now, before the ceremony, we will do the regular procedure of pass and fail and best dressed. We will, this time, start with the fails. Obviously, again, Pippa Meredith.” Every head swivels to stare at her garish bright blue dress with bright green stars and matching makeup. Her hair is even more ridiculous- half is neon green, the other half neon blue. Ay-yay-yay.
All of the princesses from our class step away from her quickly, not wanting to risk getting a high heel in the face.
“The rest are…” I stop paying attention here, zoning out until she starts to talk about the best dressed.
“And the best dressed is… Ellowyn Aspen!” I am quite thrilled, of course, but not exactly surprised. I take my place on the stage while the rest of the best-dressed join me. I glance at the rest of them. No matter how ugly their assigned animal was, all of them have made the best of them. The fish princess, for example, has avoided drab silver and instead dressed more like a mermaid, with rainbow scales and a tight dress that tapers at the bottom and frills at the hems.
> I feel a rush of gratitude that I get to be called the peacock princess instead of the fish princess.
One of the teachers explains that the prince can choose anyone in the crowd. But us winners, we get to stand on the stage and be the most easily seen. We stand out from the crowd. We have the best chance.
I want to go back into the crowd, honestly.
The prince is brought in. I can see a slow-witted smirk on Snow-White’s face. I pray that he doesn’t say her name. Anybody but her. He finishes his speech, and clears his throat. I wait for agonizing seconds.
But what he says is almost worse.
“Ellowyn Aspen.”
No. This cannot be happening! I was one person in a crowd of beautiful people! I see princesses looking at me enviously. Some, who have met the prince, are looking at me sympathetically. Snow-White is looking at me in anger and jealousy.
But when I find Irene at the back of the room, I wish I hadn’t. Hatred is written all over her features. I see somebody putting a ring on my finger. Courtiers come up to give me gifts of towels, dresses, you name it.
Finally Irene comes up to give me a green apple.
“Take a bite, please. I would love to see my gift being used by the future queen.” Ha. As if. I know it’s the poison apple, and I’m about to refuse it.
The next moments play by as if in slow motion. The prince lumbers across the room. I think he’s saying, “Oooh, apple.” I am about to push it away when he lunges for it, grabbing it and taking a giant bite.
Then he falls to the ground.
Everyone screams. That’s the first thing I register- screaming. A loud cacophony. Irene looks shocked, but behind her wide eyes I can see a smirk, one that you can see only after living with that smirk for years.
Wait. I pause my train of thought for a second. This apple is cursed. Cursed… where does that ring a bell? Curse. I remember reading a book, Irene kicking it away from me and screaming, therefore burning the words of the book permanently into my brain. Curse.
The Darkest Shadow Page 5
