Perissa Trotter and the Game of Truths

Chapter 2: Donald smuggles me the Truth

I didn't think much about the letter the next day; it wasn't top on my list of bothers. It was only when I woke up the next morning after Aunt Prudence started banging on the door and I reluctantly started to get dressed and ready for the day that this whole mysterious affair sresumed it's course.

I was just brushing my hair looking at myself in the mirror. I can't complain much at my physical appearance. Unlike my friends I didn't seem to have any spots yet except one that I got last year on my nose. It was pretty bad so I panicked and stole Aunt Prudence's make-up. I never used the stuff before so ended up covering my nose with eye shadow (which for the record is not a good mistake to make). I was freaking out because Aunt Prudence was just finishing breakfast at this point. I started washing it off... with water!

I filled the whole sink and splashed my head straight in. I was expecting the water to turn brown so I shut my eyes tight hoping to goodness it would come off (another extremely terrible idea).

It actually did!

When I looked up again in the mirror the water was just dripping off the tip of my nose. There was no eye shadow, no spot, nothing.

Remember the foundation I said I never used? Makes sense now, doesn't it? I get rid of spots by washing my face. That's something I've told no one before, not even Donald.

Another thing I like about myself is that my hair seems to not get knotted when it's wet; on the contrary, the dark strands that reach my shoulders are much more malleable when in contact with my good friend H2O.

This probably explains my childhood obsession with The Little Mermaid (and my failed attempt at dying my hair red).

I was never really tall, which may be a drawback, but the one problem I really have with my appearance is this massive scar on my forehead. The story as I knew it went like this: When my parents died in a car crash when I was one year old I survived (obviously) but remain to this day with one mark in the form of (for left to right) a crescent moon, a circle with a star in the middle with the pentagon inside marked out and finally a decrescent moon on the other side. It never seems to go away or do as much as heal, not even in water. It's really annoying.

I was just reminiscing on how many times I'd wondered about my parents and how my father hadn't been so much as mentioned to me when to postman rang. I usually answer the door but I was wearing this one grey dress with no sleeves due to the fact that Aunt Prudence didn't like me wearing anything too "revealing" (Oh no! Armpit hair... bleh...!). So I slipped a blue jacket over the top of it and went downstairs.

Too late. Aunt Prudence had answered the door and snatched the letter from the postman, a nice man called Gavin who Aunt Prudence once described as "an old flame," whatever that means. I was only on the stairs when she opened the letter herself. Donald came in at precisely the wrong moment, just in time to see his mother scream an almost fall outside (she forgot to close the door).

"Mum, what is it?" he cried reaching for the letter.

"Nothing," squeaked Aunt Prudence ripping the letter into eighths. At that moment as she left the room, both Donald and I noticed something which explained this behavior, at least partly.

The envelope of the letter was literally orange.

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That half term turned into the strangest of them all. Whoever was sending these letters was getting very crafty and very creepy. We had to get rid of two more later that day at the backdoor which was tragically close to Uncle Hubert and the shredder, six the next day which fell from the porch onto a now paranoid Aunt Prudence who grabbed them all in her arms, dug a quick hole by hand and stuff them all in (and yet I'm the one with ADHD diagnosed) and the day after that a dozen in the fireplace (guess how Uncle Hubert disposed of that bunch).

Finally when twenty-four appeared in the bathtub my guardians just weren't quick enough. I was sent to my room before my impulsiveness got the better of me and I grabbed one. Donald wasn't as misfortunate.

I heard a knock on my door half an hour later. There was my cousin glancing around to make sure he wasn't seen.

"Come in, quick," I urged him. I realised the state my room was in. Compared to Donald's it was a disaster. I thought boys were supposed to be untidy. Anyway, I cast this thought aside, Donald was clearly about to tell me something important.

We sat on my bed and Donald pulled out one of the orange letters folded in his trouser pocket. "They forgot about me," he chuckled. "Do you mind if I read it too? I'm kind of curious."

I shook my head. I could trust my cousin more than anyone else. I smiled at him, took the letter from his grasp, opened the envelope, unfolded the letter and began to read.