Evil, Unintended

Chapter 9

"A friend's enemy is my enemy."

Entry 283- A book of common quotes by Rebecca Pilot

Chann was standing in the hallway outside, waiting for Matt to let him in. I was in the room with Luna, sitting on my bed and waiting as she pulled out item after item of clothing in search for the dress she had described purely with 'I've skinned a mermaid for you.'.

The bite behind her words were gone and she was speaking in a free line of chatter that faded in and out of my mind in a fond, rhetoric manner. The nerves of a party were spreading up my arms in a jittery sort of way but the soothing tones of a happy lady were wrapping me in a shawl of false security. The knowledge that someone with the kind of figure mothers smile at had chosen a dress for me was gnawing a little, I could only imagine she had packed a knee-length dress that I would trip over.

After a little more grumbling she straightened.

"Here." She said finally, holding up a green bodycon dress embedded with emerald sequins in rows of three down the sides and a single row along the bottom. It was sleeveless with a high neck and paler green stitches.

She whipped it into a ball and threw it at me, withdrawing a floor length gown for herself and retreating into the bathroom, telling me it better be on by the time she came out.

The bubble of noise followed her and as I heard the door lock, bottles began to clank and fabric rustled behind the door.

I couldn't help but struggle as I changed into the clothing. The surprisingly heavy material weighed down on my shoulders but stuck to my body like a second skin at the same time with wetsuit-like material. Rough strips of the sequins brushed my arms, shiny edges scratching my skin slightly as I fought to breathe with the collar.

I tugged down at the hem when I saw how unbelievably and atrociously pale my short legs were, bendy and knobbly and patchy.

Chann would be astonished at his partner for the evening. I fingered the seams, pulling at the threads until a large loop came loose over my thumb. I yanked at it sharply but the dress bunched up and the thin strand throttled my skin, turning the colour red and white. I cursed myself, straightening the hem and tucking away the yarn.

Luna came out the bathroom then, mildly scalding me with her gaze. The dress was a dark maroon with a halter-neck and hugged her toned waist. Her pixie-cut hair was twisted away behind her head on one side with a golden hair clip with razor edges. Her eye makeup was a matching shade, flicking away like flames. Her eyes though wore a deathly expression of regret of what she was about to do.

"I love this." She said finally, padding barefoot towards me and grabbing my shoulders, steering me towards the bathroom. "I just don't like it for this reason."

I could see why she enjoyed it, why she liked doing it. I think I wouldn't matter what she did, as long as she did it like Luna it would be fun. Maybe if I looked like her I would like dressing up too.

She stood me under a bright light, stretching my eyelids and unsheathing an emerald liquid liner that looked more dangerous with her than Chann would with a blowtorch. She was as quick as a whip, slipping on the thing that took me hours in front of a mirror dabbing and re-doing for just for a couple of hours at a christening or more commonly, a funeral.