The Unexpected Crown

Eight

The stations are a lot more hectic than one would presume. The word stations sounds somewhat organized, like everything is set up in different groups so long lines won't form. That apparently does not apply to the use of the word stations in this context. When twenty girls are waiting for a makeover, ten are in the process, and five are all prepped and pretty, things are definitely not organized.

In luck of being favored by Miss Jenkins, I got up to the front of the line in no time. I just pray that she didn't jeopardize my chances on making friends in the process. While most girls just stood aimlessly in line, not paying attention to the fact that I was literally being walked up to the front, one did notice. And to my surprise, it wasn't Amelia. She and the two other girls that I am familiar with got done quickly because we were the first group here. Instead it was a tall blonde. Her long hair dip-died in bleach to give it a faded effect. While she had the demeanor of a lower class person, the large diamond earrings and necklace she has around her neck say otherwise. Most lower class people don't even act rude, just a handful have it out for the people like me, ones who have a family that made it to the cut of being a two, and then just ones who obtained money and well-paying jobs.

"Excuse me? What is this?" She snaps, a Northeastern twang in her voice.

"Oh Lady um... Dunham. Lady Jameston here was the in the first group here. It is only fair to serve the ones waiting the longest." Miss Jenkins responds rather quickly, only pausing to catch the girls name. For the first time, I am extremely grateful to have her clinging to me.

The girl accepts the retort with a loud humph and I am relatively sure I head a few chuckle at the whole scenario. I have to admit, if I had seen this all play out, I'd be giggling too.

I am quickly seated in a plush, black, leather, chair. Similar to the ones Mother lounges in whilst getting her hair done. A woman no older than thirty stands in front of me, creepily examining my face.

"I am Vic, your stylist. Nice to meet you Lady Corrine. I was thinking, a cut and maybe some nice highlights. How does that sound?" Vic grumbles in a monotone voice. Her eyes look tired and I can't really blame her, it's been a long day.

"Could I just have a small trim but I don't really want my hair died. I take pride in its natural brown color." If Mother sees me on the Report ever, she'd spot my colored hair from a mile away and criticize me forever. I have tried my best on not coloring my hair, if she sees that I have, it would never be natural again.

"Fine." I'm all about being tired but not this. Not rude. No matter how abusive Mother gets at home, I never take it out on others. Whatever she has going on in her life shouldn't matter when talking to her clientele.

She gets started on my hair and to my joy, it's done beautifully. She delicately plaited my hair around my head, resembling a crown. Vic then puts on my makeup. As I open my eyes for the final look, I am brought to awe. My eyes shine in gold color, outlined in black with thick lashes. My skin looks perfect, not caked at all!

"I love it! It is amazing!" I complement Vic's work but to my surprise she glares at me.

"I doubted that you would. Being rich like you are, I guess you get pampered like this every day." Her words sting and my eyes start to water. I'm not oblivious as to think that everyone loves me, but I didn't think there would be some who despised my wealth.

Silently, I stand out of my seat and go to the dressing rooms where I'll be fitted into a lovely day dress. I stand behind a girl with strawberry blonde hair and as soon as I stop, she turns.