The bright sun and the sound of birds chirping awake me from my comfortable sleep in my king size bed. A small groan escapes my mouth as I open my warm hazel eyes, trying to adjust to the sudden light that has filled my giant room. Slowly sitting up, the sheets fall off my shoulders onto my lap as I take my silky, long, wavy, red hair out of its bun. I throw my smooth pale legs over the side of the bed and stand on the cold hard floor.
I look for a perfect outfit to compliment my body, wanting to look stunning for the papers because my dad won't tolerate anything less than the "image of perfection." After choosing a long blood red dress, I walk towards the powder room to get ready for the most... Perfect day ever. After brushing my white teeth and washing my porcelain face clean, I skip downstairs to greet my 'perfect' family.
"How is my perfect family this morning ?" I chirp gleefully as I have been taught to do.
"Of course, perfect as usual, Lyssa." My father smiles. Perfect? 'Sure,' I think, as I catch the sight of tan lines on his ringless finger. Perfect, I think because you remembered to take it off in the first place, and you glow in the pride of your perfect deception. Unknowingly though, not so perfect because you forgot to put your ring back on. I'm sure, in your mind, the perfect family is one where the husband "displays" the perfect family AND also has the secret affair on the side. But that's none of my business.
Totally unaware, my father continues to push the status quo. "Good, because we won't tolerate anything less than perfect. Isn't that right, Mother?" I smile tightly, looking straight into her dull brown eyes.
"Of course." she dismisses, directing her gaze at my father's bare left hand. My father notices the sudden attention to his hand and directs the attention back to me.
"I hear that your grades have slipped to an A-." His lips form a tight line, screaming disappointment. A- is a grade given by teachers who wish to say "nice try" when they give A's to students that are to be admired for their excellence. You know that we don't accept "nice try" in this house.
I stand and grab a cup of coffee to cover my mouth so I don't say something that I will regret. Talking back is against the image of a perfect family and won't be tolerated.
"Lyssa! Coffee will stunt your growth. I told you to wait until you're 18!" exclaims my mother, snapping her attention back to me. My hand slightly twitches.
"Oh, right! You don't want this perfect child with no imperfections to suddenly be short, but I only have to wait one more perfect day!" A ghost smile plays on my lips as I walk away, ignoring her. Guess the coffee didn't help me shut my mouth.
I start walking away from my perfect parents towards the ballroom. Halfway up the immaculate marble staircase, I yell with my silky voice, "Don't forget to invite the press for my birthday, and to not come into the beautiful ballroom until midnight! It's going to be a huge surprise..." I mutter the last part quietly to myself.
Looking at the boring gigantic ballroom, I shake my head. This will not do. I must make it perfect for Mother and Father.
Going to my father's study, I open the safe behind the bookshelf where my planned decorations are stored. Sorting through each and every one of them, I determine which ones would be perfect to surprise everyone.
After about three hours of sorting, I pick over two hundred decoration pieces that would be perfect. Walking back to the bare ballroom, I put the song, "Pumped Up Kicks" by Foster the People on repeat and get to work. Each piece of decoration is placed perfectly with care and precision. Just like Mother taught me.
Not leaving a single bit of the walls uncovered by the perfect decorations, I leave the roof and floor clear. I call a few people, friends of my dad, to come over who I'm confident won't be telling anyone about what the party looks like. They play a big part in helping me make the perfect surprise presentation on the floor. My idea for the floor decorations is to create a story of sorts and they help me with that. Now, just to tie it all together, I want to show the stepping stones of how we got to where we are today ... the perfect family, now living in a glass house for everyone to see.
Painting my feet red, I turn up the repeating song and dance all around the ballroom, creating a chaotic yet beautiful art piece on the white marble. I am certain that my mother will surely find this piece just perfect. I write a few of my favorite quotes and messages here and there, about how my life and family is so perfect.
"PERFECT!" I laugh loudly, proud of my work. I just need one more thing.
As I put on the present I bought myself, a shiny new pair of silver bracelets, the clock strikes twelve.
Just in time.
