Blade (Watty Awards 2013)

Chapter 12- Santana's POV

Chapter 12- Santana's POV

My mind is still on Lillian Griffin when I finish dinner. She kicks me under the table. I need to make her like me so I hold my tongue on it instead just looking at her each time she does it.

Mrs. Griffin and my father are talking and I’m trying  by best to pay full attention in case she says something important when the cook brings out tripe chocolate cake.

The aroma alone was enough to send me over the edge. To make matters I worst the cook puts a huge slice in front of my face. If I hadn’t known better I would have thought it was half the cake itself.

Don’t do it. I think to myself. If you want to be a model, then stick to your diet, no cake Santana.

Oh, but I’ve done so well maybe just a little. Maybe no one will notice.

In front of me Lillian inhales deeply like she’s in chocolate heaven and puts a huge piece of cake in her mouth.

Should the daughter of a fashion designer really be eating like that? I mean she, the most, should want to live up to an image.

Regardless my diet, I smile and follow after her.

I’m half way to lust, when Mrs. Griffin stops me. “Ah, Santana, hun. If plan to be a model for Griffin clothes line, you need to maintain a certain weight.” She says like a reminder. “So that means no cake!” She smiles at me when I drop my fork.

Of course not. I think pushing my plate forward. I see Lillian suppress laughter then kick me harder under the table I suppress from yelling.

Her smile is huge and radiant and lights up her whole face as she stuffs a mountainous amount of cake in her mouth. She giggles when I make a face.

She’s taunting me.

I shake my head in disbelief and take a sip of water.

Just ignore her.

***

Lillian doesn’t make it half way through the giant slice of chocolate goodness before she gives up and is promptly sent to her room by her mother.

She gets up without a word and retreats.

Mrs. Griffin sighs. “She can be so difficult sometimes.” She takes a sip of wine.

Is she alright?

Why were they yelling at her upstairs?

What was going on up there?

Why did she behave like that?

Does she do it a lot?

Why do you talk to her like she’s a child?

The questions spiral my head but none of them actually leave  my mouth, because I’m too coward. I mean, it’s really none of my business and what if I offend Mrs. Griffin by asking?

I decide it’s best to keep my mouth shut.

Mrs. Griffin  gets up from around the dinner table, urging us to follow her and lets her long hair down from its bun.

It’s crazy how little she resembles her daughter and how much Lillian resembles Joseph Griffin, her dad. A part of me wonders If that’s the reason she treats Lillian like she’s a step child. That could be a good reason right? Parents get upset when the kid doesn’t look like them right?

“I’d like to talk to Santana alone in my room for a moment.” She says.

Dad looks down at me confused, but agrees to wait by the door.

My heart is thudding loudly as we slowly walk up the golden spiral stairs. We past a lot of pictures on our way up. Mostly ones of a un-named girl-who looks like an older version of Lillian herself, a sister maybe, Mrs. Griffin and Mr. Griffin. Each one of them looking like a happier family than the last. I notice there were hardly any with Lillian, maybe one, maybe two. My curiosity gets the best of be as I begin to wonder.

“Who is she?” I ask when we reach Mrs. Griffin’s room, which is big, but depressing considering who she is. The walls are a boring brown; she doesn’t have any pictures on her dresser or anywhere really. The curtains are black, making the dim lighted room seem darker. There is just a bed, a dresser and a lot of open room.

Mrs. Griffin pauses and just stares at me while I look around. “Yeah, I know my room isn’t very up-to-date, but I’m hardly here so no matter. And for the record, she is no-one I’d like to talk about so don’t ask again.” She says sternly.

I flinch. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you I just-“ Have a huge mouth. “I was just curious.” I finish lowly.

“No matter, the damage is done.” She says and walks away from me and goes to pull out a box from her dresser. “No use apologizing.” She mumbles now. “You can’t fix the past, you’ll learn that.”

I lick my lips nervously. “Um, thank you for dinner. It was-“ disgusting. Who eats only greens? It made me sick. “Delicious.”

“Oh, no problem.  True be told, I only invited you over so that I could monitor you while you eat.” She stretches out her hand. “Here, There dietary pills. Take them three times a day, breakfast, lunch and dinner.” I frown and take the box from her, god how I hate taking pills.

She turns away again and picks up a bottle of wine that was resting on her dresser and opens it.

“Pills?” I question. “You don’t have to…I mean…I’ll stick to my diet so…” I bite my lip.

Mrs. Griffin takes a big gulp of wine. “Yeah, they all say that. I want to weigh you in next week as well as test shots, be happy it’s February, I don’t want you to actually start working until summer. So even if you don’t weigh the right amount by next week you have four months to do it. That’s more time than any of my other models have ever had.”

I nod and read the box.

Apidexin.

Warning: Not intended for anyone under the age of eighteen.

“I don’t think your father would approve of me giving that to you, so this is our little secret OK?” She says. I nod. “Make sure you take them. I want you to fit into my clothes Santana.”

I nod again and promise I’ll take them. She gives me a huge and sends me back down stairs where Dad is waiting for me.

“Everything alright?” He asks. I nod. “What did you guys talk about up there.”

“Nothing. Just how she’s going to want to weigh me in next week.” I say. “Can we go now?”

“Yeah sure.” 

I say goodnight to Georgia and rush out of the house with Dad on my tail. The fresh air is nice and cool on my face. I feel like I’m both going to faint and throw up. Probably from the lack of food.

Probably from every event from tonight.

Dad takes my hand and helps me into the car. “You’ll get used to it I’m sure.” He says encouragingly.

Our drive is silent yet strangely comforting. We drive with the windows down since the air conditioner doesn’t work.

My mind goes back to Lillian.

Is that why she can eat so much?

Is she on pills too?

What kind of sick monster puts their kid on pills?

Is she sick?

Is that why she acts like she does?

Does Lauren know?

Would it make Lillian’s situation worst if I asked?

I mean what if Lauren doesn’t know and I ask and she teases her even more?

What if she does know? Can she tell me what the hell is wrong with Lillian?