The Blonde Bitch Syndrome

13. s c a r e d

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She cringed when she saw her reflection in the mirror the next morning. Her eyes had purple bags underneath them with a wild nest of her hair sticking to her nape.

She looked like something that has stepped out of a horror flick.

Looking at the old grandfather clock on the wall, she sighed and took up the make up kit from the dresser. Dabbing her eye circles with foundation, she pulled her hair into a high ponytail. She finished it with a blue ribbon.

She went to the dining hall and sat on the opposite side of where her mother was sitting - sipping  her coffee while her manicured fingers drew circles on the napkin.

"Aren't you a bit late? Practice starts at six thirty, I guess." She enquired, eyes scrutinizing, her daughter's outfit for any flaw.

She gulped,  while her eyes remained fixed on the peanut butter bottle present on the centre. " Yes, it usually is. But principal changed the timing to seven fifteen," she replied in a meek voice, barely audible amongst the boisterous noises coming from the kitchen.

Her mother briefly nodded as she pulled out the daily mail and opened the pages. She internally sighed, already feeling herself getting exhausted from the usual prep talk. It would have been a lot easier for her if her mother's kitty parties would be on early morning.

The less they would have to acknowledge each other,  the less both of them would stop feeling suffocated in the uncomfortable, tight silence whenever they happened to cross paths.

Their interaction was akin to two strangers in a Friday party who had been stranded and ended up getting locked up - in the same room - none of them having the knowledge of the other's whereabouts.

She sipped the orange juice on her side, hastily threw a pieces of bread in her mouth and shot up from the seat.  Mumbling a thanks, she made her way to the main door.

On the porch,  her chauffeur, Ben was cleaning the black volvo. He passed her a smile,  when he saw her arriving. She returned the gesture as he opened the door for her.

"Good morning," he chirped. Although she couldn't see anything good with the morning, she nodded her head and got into the back seat.

Ben was probably one of those people in the household who was nice to her. He had been her chauffeur from the past ten years when her father dragged her back to the mansion. Dimpled smiles and mock salutes made her giggle. But she brushed them off and thought nothing of them. It was rare occurrence that someone wasn't annoyed with her existence and it made her feel all giggly and strange.

She wasn't a pro in dealing with foreign emotions. And anyway he was nice to her since her father deposits a hefty amount of money in his bank account for driving the little princess back and forth from her school.

He got into the driver's seat and handed her a cashmere sweater. She took it and silently put it on over her crop top. Mentally rebuking herself for not noticing that the atmosphere had suddenly turned cold and foggy,  she flashed him a grin. "Thank you. "