That's Just the Beginning

Chapter 8

I did something I never do. I slept in. The reason that I never sleep in on the weekends is because my parents are constantly waking me up at 7:30 A.M in order to get to my viola lessons. But instead, I got up at 1 o’clock and began to freak out.

“Aunt Cherry! My viola lesson!” I said, rushing into the kitchen as I yanked a red t-shirt over my tank top. My phone constricted one of my hands from gripping the shirt. She stared at me, amused. I was panting heavily from the race down the stairs and through all 7 rooms.

“I canceled it.” She shrugged. I stared at her, mouth agape. It’s not that I minded it being cancelled, no I was grateful. It’s my mother’s wrath that made me scared.

“My mother!” I cried out. She just shrugged.

“I asked permission, I told her we were going shopping to give you a makeover. She said yeah, and to just call Maria- your instructor.” She said, smiling widely as she flipped a pancake. I stared at her awestruck.

“But she’ll know you’re lying when she comes back and I’m still plain old me.” I stated, running my hands through the air surrounding my face and clothes. Did I need a makeover? According to Adrian, you do. I automatically frowned as I took my phone and checked the messages. I sighed once I read them; Jessie was inviting me to a party, pleading with me to go. Didn’t she realize I couldn’t, wouldn’t, and shouldn’t go? It always ended badly. I groaned loudly.

“What is it?” She asked me, turning her head slightly.

“It was Jessie inviting me to a party but I said I’m not going. She probably just wants me to drive her home when she's drunk and vomiting.” I stated, shrugging and throwing a careless hand around. She gave me a flat look and I rolled my eyes. She took this as a sign for her to continue talking.

“Maybe she just wants you to go out and have fun. And about the makeover, who said I was lying?” She said, raising an eyebrow along with the spatula. I shook my head vigorously. This would make Adrian think that his words affected me. They did but not to the point where I would go out of my way to change in the matter of a day.

“I can’t.” I said, shaking my head. She frowned deeply, puckering out her lower lip and widening her eyes in an attempt to give me the puppy dog face. I shook my head, turning and staring at the pile of pancakes she created. She realized her tactic wasn’t working so she decided to speak to me instead

“Why not?” She asked, flipping the pancake quickly. It was slightly burned but I was used to it. I’m surprised she didn’t burn the house down. I noticed her iPad sitting on the counter with a ‘How to Make Pancakes’ video tutorial on it. I let out a low snort. The time it took her to place the pancake onto the plate gave me some time to come up with an excuse; but I don’t think any amount of time would help me create a good enough excuse to get out of anything involving clothes or make up. I decided to tell her the truth.

“Because yesterday I was called ugly and I don't want them to think that it bothered me that much.” I muttered, poking the pile of pancakes I’d shoved onto my plate. She sat down across from me with a coffee in her hand as she looked outraged.

“Who called you ugly?” She asked, getting defensive. I shrugged carelessly before replying.

“Easton.” I stated, cutting the pancake. I poured syrup all over the dry pancakes before I stuffed the forkful into my mouth.

“He lied. You’re beautiful. You know that right?” She asked me. I stayed silent. Lying to her gets you nowhere. Besides, to me- it seems that looks get you nowhere, that’s why I study so hard. I want to be successful and I don't want to have to depend on beauty (or lack thereof) to get me places.

“You’re beautiful! Why don’t you feel beautiful?” She asked me, tilting her head slightly. I shrugged.

“After years of being told that I’m ugly, it started to sink in.” I replied, biting my bottom lip.

“You’re not ugly. Do you want to make Easton feel really stupid?” She questioned, smirking deviously. I shrugged.

“Here’s what you do. Tell Jessie you’re going to that party. Hurry up and eat, we’re going to get you some clothes,” She spoke, examining my hair before adding the next part. “And we’re going to do your hair. Do you want to know why?” She asked.

“Why?” I asked with a calm voice, furrowing my eyebrows.

“Because you’re going to show him how wrong he is. And when he sees you- he’s going to regret saying what he did. He’s going to feel stupid.” She explained. I don’t think she understands the type of guy he is. He’s a bad guy, I don’t want to be involved with him, never mind how hot he is- he’s bad news. He uses girls and I don't want to be one of them. Maybe it was a sign that he thinks I'm ugly, I'm in the clear.

“But I don’t want to go.” I said, standing my ground.

“But you have no choice.” She said, narrowing her eyes at me. She raised an eyebrow as I protested.

“I think I do.” I excused, narrowing my eyes at her as well.

“Okay, alright,” She stated making me think I had won this small argument. Then I could go back upstairs and play on the internet and let Jessie get drunk at some random guys party. I would eventually feel okay and head to school on Monday feeling the usual neutral.

Just as I was about to push myself out of my chair, finished with my pancakes and going to take a shower, she decided to speak. “I’ll give you an ultimatum.”

“Which is?” I questioned her, raising an eyebrow.

“You either go shopping with me, allow me to do your makeup, and go to that party or you go get ready and I’ll schedule your viola appointment for a double block and I'll ask her to give you harder work. And then when you get home, I’ll relax and you get to cook dinner.” She bargained, raising her coffee mug to her mouth. She is the devil. I think the answer was obvious.

“Fine, but there are boundaries that you cannot cross; I’m not wearing pounds of makeup, I am wearing jeans and a jacket, and I’m not wearing heels.” I demanded.

“Wedges?” She asked, raising her eyebrows hopefully as that persuading smile appeared on her face. Her brown curly hair was held back by a thick elastic hair band.

“What's the difference? They both will break my ankles by the end of the night. No.” I said, shaking my head. She puckered out her lower lip, batting her eyelashes and whimpering like a lost puppy. I felt myself caving so I sighed. “Fine.” I huffed, allowing her to cheer and shouted. She demanded me to go upstairs and get dressed. I just complied, creating a plan in my head.

After changing and coming up with a brilliant plan, I happily galloped downstairs. It’s simple what I was going to do, in fact- a baby could do it. Well, maybe not because it includes climbing. Anyway, I wasn’t actually going to go to the party. But instead of going to the party- I was going to drive to an ice cream shop, stay for 20 minutes and then come home and climb through the window. Simple and quick, right? I’ll be back to internet browsing in no time!

“Why are you so happy? 45 minutes ago, you didn’t even want to go. Stop planning something, you’re going. I’m making you. Jessie is driving you there and back, now let’s go.” She stated, attempting to ruin my plan. I’ll just cancel on Jessie as soon as she gets here or I’ll let her drive for 20 minutes and then I’ll say that I don’t feel so well and tell her to drop me off at my house, or a block away. So my plan wasn’t that ruined, I just have to add a few last minute changes.