Perfect

The Story

 Eden Alina Hinton was in deep trouble, the likes of which she had only just realized. Detention, of course, was looked down upon no matter which sibling in her family received it, but it was ten times worse when Eden got in trouble. Partially, this was because she rarely, if ever, got into mischief. And, partially, because Eden was supposed to be perfect.

Ever since her mom had died, Eden's father had decided that Eden needed to be exactly like Alaina, her mother. But, according to Eden, that was impossible. Alaina was tall, and slender, with a sharp jawline and kind, twinkling gray eyes. And, she was warm and sweet, never having spoken a sharp word in her life. She didn't even scold her children. When any of the six of them acted up, Alaina would just give them a slightly disappointed look, and the sibling would be on the ground practically begging for forgiveness. That was just who she was.

But, Eden wasn't anything like Alaina. Sure, they had the same, slate gray eyes and slim bodies, as well as similar(and very short) height, but the similarities ended there. Eden had long, straight, golden blonde hair and Alaina had a more chocolate brown shade which was styled in a bob. Alaina was graceful, and neat, and she always picked up after herself. Eden was clumsy, and cluttered, and her room looked like a tornado had come through. It got worse by the day, too, much to the disappointment of her father.

Eden was trying to do what he asked of her, but Christian Hinton never thought his daughter's efforts were enough. Whatever Eden was doing, she could be doing it better. And he didn't approve of the adventurous, romantic fiction that Eden enjoyed so much. As she walked, she could picture her father in her head as he told her it's not ladylike to be reading such things, child.

But alas, picturing her father scolding her brought Eden back to the present. She dragged her feet slightly against the cracked sidewalk, peering around the corner of the large white house that marked the start of her street. And it certainly was, in all definitions, large. Three stories tall and twice as wide as a normal family house, with several sleeping porches on both the second and third levels, the house did by all means tower over the street in front of it, as if daring anyone who didn't belong to step foot past its boundaries.

Yet, the house on the corner was actually the smallest house on Ashton Lane. The others, which were positioned farther back, got bigger and bigger until they reached the end of the street where the largest and most gloomy one of all loomed over the rest, like a spoilt king trying to intimidate his subjects. At least, that was how Eden thought of it. She had never admired the way her family enjoyed flaunting their money.

The house on the end of the street, which Eden was obliged to call her very own humble abode, was anything but humble. Its sides were painted a soft gray, with bright red shutters on each side of every single window along the front of the house. And there were plenty of those, too. At least one, if not two or three, in every room, and perfectly spaced to make the house seem even more like a rich person's Hallmark commercial. Eden would not be surprised if her father had allowed the house to be used for such things before, as was his custom to brag about his money. Fame and power, after all, were at the top of his priority list.

The yard, too, was as neat as the house. The neighbors around the Hinton's were sure that the grass was false. It never seemed to grow longer than a few inches, and the color never changed from a vibrant, healthy green. It was thick and lush, too. Flowers lined the house, arranged so neatly one would have thought that a gardener worked at them nearly 24/7. They were even organized by color and style, a pattern that went pink rose, white chrysanthemum, blue tulip, and then repeated.

Eden sighed as she pulled herself out of her thoughts. She hated that she was so nervous to speak to her own father, but she couldn't help it. She had always hated confrontation with a violent passion, and she was dreading the inevitable lecture, although she knew that it wouldn't be happening for a couple of hours. Unless, of course, her father had come home from work early to deal with her 'misdemeanor'. It wouldn't be the first time.