The Rebel (#Wattys2016)

5. The Report

Adeen stared at her reflection. It had taken around ten minutes to convince her stylist she didn't want any major changes. He had offered everything: dying her hair, changing her eye color, even tattooing ink into her eyes as permanent eyeliner. But after he had seen how Adeen got when she was mad, he gave up, and conformed to working on her eyebrows and hair.

When he was satisfied with his work, he let a swarm of ladies scrub —literally scrub- her body. Years of dirt and hard work and sweat came off, all in an instant. Then her skin was rubbed with so many lotions Adeen lost count.

Then the gosh-be-darned ladies turned their attention to her nails. Adeen didn't like hating them, but she couldn't help it. As they worked, they kept complaining about how dirty she was, how they were amazed by a Six' hygiene, how her eyebrows were too bushy. Adeen had to bit her tongue and concentrate on the other girls to keep her from telling them that she had tried being clean, but it was hard when she had to work for food. And it was even harder when she starved, aka almost every week.

They rinsed her hair, painted her nails, and applied more lotions. They went so far as to cut her hair, their only action Adeen approved entirely. Back home, she cut her own hair, resulting on mismatched lengths, but the ladies cut several inches and made layers.

Then a girl made her makeup. She was the first girl Adeen liked. She didn't make offensive comments, or tried to convince her of some ridiculous change, or scowled at her. She simply nodded at Adeen's request to keep it simple, and delivered. When she was done, Adeen was glad the girl had followed her instructions. Many others looked older with makeup, and Adeen didn't want to look that way.

When the whole process was finally done, they led Adeen to her dress. They called it a day dress, and Adeen supposed she could see why. It fell off her shoulders and continued down until her knees. It had a discreet décolleté; discreet enough that she didn't complain and it didn't look like something Regina would wear. It was white until her waist, where a cream-colored ribbon tied it and exposed her figure —which was still thin from years of starvation- and then turned the same shade of cream. Adeen liked it. They placed a silver pin on top with her name on it. Adeen had to walk around in what they called kitten heels. She had never worn heels before, but years of training in self-defense and fighting made her a fast learner. When she had finally mastered her new self, Adeen was led back to a corner where they took some pictures.

Then they interviewed her.

"So, Lady Adeen." Another thing to get used to aside from gowns and heels: a title. And respect. "You don't look like you changed a lot, can you tell us a little about what happened in your makeover today?"

Adeen knew she had to make the public love her. Commander Golmes had explained that it would be harder for the Prince to get rid of her if Illea liked her.

"Well, first off, I think they gave life back to me. They cut my hair, did my nails, and even applied makeup." She smiled. "I also smell like vanilla, which is nice I guess, if I can learn to control the hunger it gives me. I smell like dessert!"

The interviewer laughed at that. "You do look lovely, Lady Adeen. That dress suits you, too."

Adeen faked a smile, and looked down. "Thank you. I like it; it's the first dress I've worn in ages! And the heels, too. I had to learn all over again! I'll have to get used to them, but I really like them."

"That's right, you're the only Six in the Selection. How has the experience felt so far?"

"Well, it has definitely been surprising."