Chapter One: Fake Out1
My dad always said that I looked like my mother. I don't think so, though. When I look at the old photos, the paintings, or even hear people talk about her.... I don't know. I just don't think we're as similar as people make us out to be. I don't see the resemblance when I look in a mirror. I just see... me.
It must be our colors.
I have gray eyes. Like Athena, my father always said. My hair is short and snowy white, the most common trait of werewolf nobles. I am "petite," which means I’m short, skinny, and have few curves. At sixteen, nearly seventeen, I look about fourteen or fifteen. Most would describe me as "cute" or "pretty."
But my mother.... She was Beautiful. "Beautiful."
She had long, flowing white hair that she always kept in a braid. Her eyes where deep, sparkling light gray, the shade of the lightest of pencil strokes. She was tall and had the right sort of figure to make men tip their hats towards her. She was a true beauty, and beautiful on the inside as well. Smart, funny, kind, good-natured. She was perfect and wonderful.
See? Same colors, but different people.
When I look in the mirror, I notice something else, too. The biggest difference between my mother and me is that she was a woman, and I’m just a girl. A small, shy girl that's father is trying to make a beautiful, strong woman that will one day be queen of her people, and her people alone. The Were-Princess, he claims, will one day be the ruler of werewolves. Once I find a King, of course. As long as the King isn't a certain someone.
That isn't going so well, though.
My father, being the old-fashioned gentleman he is, decided that, around age ten, he would start looking for "suitors." That was what he preferred calling them. I, in my mind, called then snobby, arrogant brats. Every single boy he brought in for "dates" was used to getting anything they casted an eyeball at. They were used to just asking the price and plucking something off the shelf. In this way, they saw me as an object up for sale, too. Not a real, living, breathing girl who had feelings.
It was disgusting, really.
Gradually, fewer and fewer suitors came, and I was completely fine with that. Part of me did want that prince charming that was out there somewhere. Part of me wanted "suitors" to continue coming, in hopes of finding that charming boy. But the other part of me wanted to just forget about boys and not bother with them. I just wanted to be left with my books, without the distraction of stupid, jerky boys.
My father didn't like that, least to say, but didn't know what to do about it. He didn't want to force me into anything. He believed in the sacred sanctity of marriage, and believed that it should only be conducted under the power of true love. I think, though, that he was trying to speed up the process of true love, and it wasn't working too well. Suitors never worked out- bad things tended to happen once they got too cocky. My father tried to dismiss this, but it kept on happening over and over and over. He couldn't deny the fact that suitors weren't working.
That still didn't stop him. Just slowed him down a bit. Instead of a suitor every week, there was one or two every month. Better, I guess. Still not fun, though.
Today was a suitor day, and my father had made me dress up for it. No swing skirts and blouses or, heaven forbid, dungarees for me! Not that I owned a single pair of Dungarees, or even pants, for that matter. Not a single sailor outfit! Nothing! Too unladylike, my father said. A bunch of phooey, said me. Not that anybody listened to me.
I looked in the mirror of my vanity table, examining the outfit that'd been picked out for me. A sundress-looking get-up that came to my ankles. It was all a powdery blue color. White heels, white gloves that came to my wrists, and a pearl necklace around my neck. My hair had been curled and flipped out at the ends. Curling never really worked for my hair; it just flipped out at the ends and didn't hold any other kind of curl. Troublesome....
"Miss Emily?"
I jumped at the sudden voice. It was muffled and came from the other side of my door. I stepped away from the mirror after fluffing my hair a little bit. Glancing over at the doorway, I called out, "Come in!"
The door clicked and cracked open. A head of neatly cropped, dark brown hair bobbed inside, a pair of crisp, green eyes peeking in. I smiled and laughed in happy surprise. I jogged over to the doorway, nearly tripping in the heels, but quickly regaining my balance and opening the door all the way.
"Luke!" I nearly shouted, reaching out to hug him quickly. He laughed and gave me a pat on the back, smiling contentedly. I let go after a second and looked up at him, smiling eagerly. Luke! What a treat! I hadn't seen the boy in days! He smiled down at me, his eyes crinkling at the sides.
"Hello, Emily. Ready to meet him?" he asked cheerily. However, when I looked closely at his face, I could tell that he wasn't very pleased about something. Puzzled, I cocked my head to the side, questioning him without words. He shook his head, and I was only more confused. Usually I was the one who would give such a sour look; He was usually the optimistic one.
"What? What?" I probed, crossing my arms over my stomach, which was starting to knot up. Luke's look was starting to make me nervous.
"'What, What' what?" He asked, laughing lightly at himself. I raised my eyebrows and crossed my arms over my chest. His face fell slightly and he exhaled heavily, rubbing his forehead.
"You know what I mean. What's wrong, Luke?" I pleaded, trying to convey my earnestness. Luke stayed quiet for a while, debating with himself internally. He finally opened his mouth and looked down at me, his voice nearly a mumble when he spoke.
"Well, it's just... this guy...," He trailed off, humming to himself quietly for a bit. He finally sighed, shook his head, and looked down at me, "It's not my place to say anything."
Oooh! How difficult he could be!
"Is he one of those who say he's killed a vampire?" I asked, trying to look bored. Luke cracked a smile and shook his head, opening the door wider and stepping to the side.
"It's not my place, Doll," He replied dutifully, "Come, now, Emily. Let's go meet this nerd, shall we?"
"Let's just get it over with...," I mumbled, following him out the door and shutting it behind us. Luke sighed deeply, trying to remain optimistic despite my sour mood. He led me through the hallways, down a set of stairs, and to the doors that led to the main parlor. He stopped suddenly in front of the doors, chewing on the inside of his cheeks as he waited for some kind of signal. It took a few minutes, but the signal came, and he motioned for me to go on through.
"Good luck," he whispered, giving me a short thumbs-up before he let me through. I smiled back, lightly, and then went through the doors, my hands clasped in front of me. I gave one last glance at Luke, then sucked in a breath and let him close the doors.
The suitor was already standing there, looking around the entryway. Taking advantage of him not noticing me for a moment, I took a look as well. The whole house had a Victorian look and feel to it, the front room being of no exception. Even in 1957, you’d expect to see a fine lady walking around it, carrying a parasol and wearing hoop skirts and stuff like that. As the boy caught sight of me, I wondered if he’d been expecting just that. I also wondered, vaguely, if he was surprised to get just see me, instead.
“Hello,” he greeted, bowing in the traditional werewolf manner. I waited until he stood upright again, then bowed in return, not nearly as deep as he had. We stood there awkwardly for a moment, inspecting each other. I half expected that we’d start sniffing each other, like dogs do. (That would be sort of ironic….)
He had short, combed-back hair that was a dusty brown color. His eyes were grey, like storm clouds moving over an ocean. He was dressed in a crisp, white shirt, black tie, and black dress pants. His shoes were black and polished so clean that I could have seen my reflection if I’d been a few feet closer. As soon as that thought ran across my mind, the boy closed the gap between us, all smiles and manners.
“I’m Jason Carone,” He introduced himself, taking my gloved hand gently in his. He smiled ruefully and pecked my hand with his lips. I didn’t blush, like I would have nearly seven years ago. I just waited for him to stand up straight.
“Emily Brinestone,” I replied in a clipped tone, averting my eyes from his. He kept hold of my hand, even after he’d stood. I was acutely aware of this fact, and it made me more then just slightly uncomfortable. With a cool smile, he grasped my hand tighter and pulled me towards the door.
“Nice to meet you, Emily,” He replied, “We’re running a little bit late. Shall we go?”
Hesitation.
“I guess so,” I replied uncertainly. This seemed to amuse him. I looked up at him curiously, not used to such a playful attitude. He smiled kindly, and I attempted to do the same. With this, we walked on out of my house and to his car; black (haven’t a clue what kind), and polished as bright and shiny as his shoes. It glimmered in the moonlight as he opened my door, climbed into the driver’s seat, and took off down the street. We sat in silence as we wound through the city streets, making our way to the drive-in.
“Two tickets, please,” he requested smoothly, and the guy at the ticket stand handed over two little bits of paper and nodded like he was a hipster. I noticed the distinct smell of alcohol emitting from his leather jacket. He caught my gaze and grinned in a disgusting way that made me cringe. He turned his small eyes back to Jason.
“On the house, Jase,” he slurred, eyeballing at me once again.
“Thanks,” Jason replied briskly before we drove to a spot near the screen, right as a title flashed across the screen. We sat there, silently and uncomfortably, as the actors portrayed a storyline about a giant, oozing slime monster that was devouring their town. I noticed every time Jason moved closer to me, inching his way into my space.
At last, it flashed to a scene with the Hero and Heroine, the girl begging the boy not to go. Jason pretended to yawn and wound up with his arm around my shoulders. I tensed, but he seemed too far in to notice. The boy and girl were getting closer and closer to one another, and I felt him edging in closer and closer, just like the on-screen couple. Then, they embraced, and kissed, and-
And then his lips were on mine, and his tongue was in my mouth. Not. Cool. Shocked, I instantly pulled away, pushing him as I did so. I guess I didn’t know my own strength, because he slammed right into the door and tumbled out onto the ground, cursing loudly as he did so. A few other couples stopped playing backseat bingo and looked at him funny.
“What the hell was that for?” He screamed at me, suddenly not so polite and well-mannered. He scowled and glared as I mechanically exited the car, hollering at me as I grabbed my purse and looked around, “What’s your deal, doll?”
I stopped and looked straight at the boy as I talked, choking back the tears that threatened to run down my face, “Don’t call me that. And don’t ever bother ever coming near me ever again!”
“I’ll do what I like, doll! And you know why?” He’d stood up, and was barreling towards me like the animal he was. I choked back a sob and back stepped, the people in other cars craning their necks and halting their make-out sessions to watch the unfolding show. “It’s because nobody else’ll take you! You worthless, hopeless piece of-”
“DROP DEAD!” I screamed, slapping him across the face as he neared me. He back peddled and howled in pain. I swallowed hard and screamed again, “JUST DROP DEAD!”
With that, I turned heel and ran, letting the tears go free as I left Jason behind, screaming and dirt-encrusted.
Author notes
Hm! He's not very nice, now is he?
Emily is a bit hard; she only opens up to people she likes and knows well. That's why she despises these dates her father arranges. She does get warmer around Luke, though. She's much more blunt and less rigid when she's with him.
Emily just needs someone to melt her shell, don't you think? ;]
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