Run

// Chapter one

Clarity stared at herself in the mirror, pulling her perfectly shaped, scarlet red lips into a small pout as the hairstylist finished curling the last strand of her perfect blonde hair. The girls were all bustling about the upstairs floor of her mansion, squealing  and jumping up and down, rushing in and out of dressing rooms as they prepped themselves for the competition. The blonde really thought there wasn't much point- everyone knew she was going to win. Not only because she was the beloved, darling daughter of the town's mayor, but she always won. Every competition she had been in.

With a small nod of satisfaction she pushed herself up from the chair. They lady who had been doing her hair scurried away to tend to someone different, after giving a bob of her head in the nineteen year old's direction. The brat was used to being treated like royalty. 

Swinging her hips as she walked she glided elegantly in her six inch heels along the family's marble floors. Passing through several archways, all adorned with different bouquets of colourful flowers, she made it to the main preparation room. There were about forty girls who were competing in the Autumn Bell's ball. There was the faint trace of violins in the background, the music drifting up their magnificent staircase from the garden, where the adults were all sipping champagne and the bold few were dancing.

Clary found her closest band of followers and sat with them. She lounged on the velvet sofa, kicking her feet over the arm rest and tuning into their chatter. "Will you look at Lily James's hair? It looks like her face is having a battle with it and no one's winning!" There was a round of laughs.

"I know, and she really shouldn't wear that colour lip gloss with her skin tone. She looks green." Another one piped in- a brunette sitting cross legged on the floor next to Clarity.

"Well at least she's not orange," The rich blonde interrupted. The girls snapped their attention to her, worshipping every word that fell out of her mouth, as usual, "do you remember your incident at the salon last year, Harriett? I'm glad i refused to see you until you resembled an actual human being. I would have gone blind." She scoffed. The other's burst into forced giggles, shunning the poor girl who laughed it off with them. Although some of them began talking to her, she ignored them. Patricia had arrived next to her, flopping down on the space beside the girl. She had a deep, cherry red bob that suited her creamy skin and beautiful emerald eyes. Just like her bright, fresh as a rain drop face would suggest, her personality was full on and energetic. She was Clary's best friend. And her closest competition. Pat wasn't afraid of her. Something she valued.

"Ug i'm starving, but i can only eat carbs on Wednesdays and Sundays." the girl sighed, resting her head on the blonde's shoulder, "oh well. I've probably eaten a bucket of grapes already," she waved it off, her neon pink nails seemingly leaving a trail of colour as she moved them.

Bryoni glided over to the group, swishing her short pink dress when she stopped in front of her older sister. "Go away, Bry. You're not meant to be here." Clarity grumbled, lying about where she was and wasn't allowed to be.

The eleven year old stuck her lip out and crossed her arms like the stubborn child she was, "Mummy says I can come up here whenever I want." Clar immediately rolled her eyes. Technically Bry was her half sister. Her father remarried and had Bryoni with Julia. Julia was a successful woman with a beak like nose and an annoyingly high pitched voice. Clarity hated her. And it had been icy between her and her father since. 

"well you can't." She shot back, starring the kid down. Despite having different mothers, the girls were eerily similar. They both had a full face with electric blue eyes and a head full of sunshine waves.

"Awww, don't be so mean to your little sis!" Pat gave Bryoni a sympathetic look- she was always nicer to her than Clar.

Before anything different could arise, Melissa bounced into the room. She had a headset on, and was talking into it. In her hands she clutched a grey clipboard. It matched her pencil skirt, blouse, and smokey jacket. She topped off the professional look with a tight chestnut bun and pearl earrings. "Right ladies! Fifteen minutes! Cameras are setting up now!" She turned on her heels and yelled at some work men adding the wrong type of pink flowers to the display outside.

Clarity Monroe jumped up, grabbing her friend's wrist, "C'mon, help me get dressed!" She was still in her pink robe, her name written in cursive gold letters on the back.

"Clary, let me come with you!" Her younger sister stumbled after them. Clarity ignored her.

The two girls hurried back through the many wide corridors. Everything was colour coordinated for the event. The drapes were all white or gold or pink. Even the expensive paintings had different coloured bows on them. 

Grinding to a rather shaky, but still elegant stop at the entrance to her bedroom, she gave a small squeal. Maybe it was the almost definite fact that she would win. Not that she ever doubted herself.

She pushed open her door and walked in. If she wasn't so used to living in the lap of luxury, maybe she would have been grateful for the feminine suite. It had everything. A king sized bed with an impressive array of cushions. A flat screen tv the size of a car. Posh rugs. Statues. Flowers. A walk in wardrobe. A massive fish tank. She had a desk with a pink laptop that rested in front of a large board, full with photos of the spoiled blonde at various destinations: competitions, exotic holidays, her sweet sixteen. She even had french windows that led out onto a balcony, with a view out onto empty fields and the ocean. The theme was expensive.

"Patricia, get me my dress." She called over her shoulder, slipping into a sitting position on the bed. Her friend put down one of her many snow globes and went the fetch the garment. She arrived a few minutes later holding two bags. One was hers, the other was for Clar.

Most of the other girls were already in their dresses, but she always left it to last minute. Just in case it creased.

She stripped out of her short black day dress, and slid into the new one. It was a shimmery turquoise thing that transformed her skin tone from light tan to glowing. Her eyes looked aflame with blue. It clung to her figure, before fanning out a little after her waist in a firework of gems and crinkled fabric. She gave a twirl. Flicked her hair. She was ready.

When she turned she caught Patricia in her dress. A flicker of doubt crossed her face when she saw how radiant the auburn looked in her emerald fishtail. But she let it pass. There was no way she could be beaten.

All she had ever cared about was winning.