Loveliest

Chapter 3

And because she was so beautiful, the huntsman took pity on poor Snow White and said, “Run away, and never come back.”

It would be poetic to say that Rose woke up to birds singing or the soft light of morning sunshine peering gloriously through her window, but the truth was far less pleasant.

Rose woke up to her door slamming open and the sheets ripped off her bed.

“You’re late!” her stepmother screeched.  “Get up! Your father’s waiting.”  Rose peered through her sleepy lashes at Elaine.  She was a lovely woman, with pale blonde hair and high cheekbones, but she was constantly frowning; it did nothing for her complexion.

“All right, I’m up.”  However much Rose loved her Saturday mornings with her absentee father, she disliked getting up early, especially after waking up from such a sweet dream.  She tried to remember what it had been for a moment, but it was already fading, it’s only trace was a lightness in her chest.

Elaine shot her a look of undisguised hatred and swept from the room.  Rose yawned and rolled out of bed.  Swinging her walk in closet open, she pushed past racks of designer shirts and dresses, leapt over an out of place pile of shoes and reached what she called, her real closet.  Here was where she kept her slightly faded jeans, ironic t-shirts, and slouchy cardigans.  Slipping on a pair of flats with her ensemble, she ran a brush through her hair and snatched her over the shoulder bag from beside her bed.

Feeling much more comfortable in her clothes than what she had been wearing yesterday, she slipped out the back door and slid open the garage door.

It would be disgusting and more than a little disturbing to describe the cars that inhabited her garage, but it’s safe to assume that they were all worth more than some people’s annual pay check.

The wealthy business owner himself was leaning against a nondescript, albeit expensive and sleek, black car, talking on his cell phone.  He wore sunglasses that hid his eyes, but it was clear to see that the phone call was business, not pleasure.

“Handle the situation!” was all Rose could catch before her father snapped his phone closed and slid it into his pocket.  He still carried a flip phone, despite there being newer, more extravagant phones.  He already had all the extravagance he needed.

“Is everything alright?” Rose asked when she reached him.

“Hmm? Oh, yes. Nothing to worry about.”  She couldn’t see his eyes, but she knew that they were watching her sadly.  He couldn’t seem to see her without seeing her mother.

She smiled, “Alright. So what are we doing today?”  He opened her door.

“That, mon cherie, is a secret, as always.”  She ducked inside and sank into the comfortable leather of the seat.        

“The Fundraiser Ball is soon,” she commented as her father pulled out of their long driveway.

“So that’s what all the activity is about.”  He grinned at Rose.  “When is it exactly?”

“One month and two weeks. June twentieth,” she recited. Her classmates had been squealing about it at lunch just yesterday. “It’s on the Summer Solstice,” she added.

“A night of magic,” her father remarked.

Rose closed her eyes and tried to imagine it as something magical.  In her mind all she could see were girls in overly expensive gowns preening in front of Jacob Atkinson or whatever his name was, the world’s wealthiest all trying to show off their latest vapid purchases, and most importantly, everyone would forget about Africa.  She tried to imagine warm night air and fireflies that lit up the night and the scent of summer thick on her skin.  It was a beautiful thought.