Sisters (On Pause)

Hilda - Privet Place

The two girls walked down the pavement, advancing the sign that read PRIVET PLACE in elaborately curly letters. Then, Genevieve guided them across the road - it's seemed to be paved in purple coloured stones - and they found the shop, which the signpost read Deirdre's Dress Emporium for the Girls of Great Men.

"Come on, Hilda, let's go in!" Genevieve said excitedly. "I heard that they have cashmere jumpers and scarves - no more cold winters!"

"I don't mean to be rude, but why is it called the Emporium for the Girls of Great Men?" Hilda asked, looking at the sign warily.

"Oh, because this shop manufactures uniforms for Blackwood girls." Genevieve said "And Blackwood girls are daughters of royalty, business tycoons - those sort of men. 'Great' men. It's a bit stupid, really. Just because you're a business tycoon doesn't mean you're a 'great' man." She spat bitterly.

"Whoa, whoa, are you okay, Genevieve?" Hilda asked uncertainly.

"Perfect." Genevieve replied in a deathly, sarcastic voice. "My lovely, business hungry father has sent me to Blackwood Academy for Girls so he doesn't have to think of what to say when he meets me. You know, he actually writes a script of what to say so our meetings don't get awkward or out of control? And that's when he meets me once a month. I don't live with him because he's 'too busy' and, really he wants nothing to do with me. The only thing he gave to me was this clip of a ridiculous amount of money - I need an eighth of that for my school supplies, and our school supplies aren't exactly cheap. Yeah, let's send little Ginevra - he doesn't even remember my name - to this super fancy school so the time I need to see her shortens from a month to a year." She looked at Hilda's shocked face, and warmed. "Sorry for blurting out my frustrations at you. At least I have a father, right? Who is your father?" She smiled weakly.

"I don't know actually." Hilda said, uncomfortably.

"Another Raymond Huang?" She asked, raising a beautiful eyebrow.

"I don't know," she repeated slowly.

"Oh." Genevieve said, realising. "Oh, I'm so, so, sorry!"

"Nah, it's fine. I don't remember him. Or mum. Unlike you, my money is still in the bank. We need to stop off there." Hilda said, quickly changing the subject.

"The bank?" Genevieve asked wearily. "The other side of the street. I thought we would start off here, at the Emporium, then work our way down this long street. Then I deposit most of this money into my bank account and then go back home. You could use my money and pay me back when we arrive at the bank."

"But will I have enough?" Hilda asked fretfully.

"Who's vault are you taking your money from?"

"Emily Spencer."

Genevieve looked alarmed, amazed, awed, but then quickly regained her composure. "Emily Spencer? You'll have enough." As if seeing Hilda's mouth begin to spill out a mountain of question, Genevieve quickly blurted, "Don't ask me anything, I only know that Spencer had a lot of money. Now, let's go get our uniforms!" Genevieve dragged Hilda into the shop, and as they opened the door, a sonata started playing furiously.

"Yoo-hoo!" A girl no older than twenty with a honey-blonde hair yodelled in a squeaky, fake American accent. "It's Deirdre, kids. How are y'all?"

"Um, we're fine, thanks." Genevieve asked skeptically. Deirdre obviously dyed her hair, her had a fake tan and fake eyelashes that were so long it looked stupid. She also wore shocking bright purple lipstick, and she dabbed some of the stuff on her eyelids, too. She had monstrous eyeliner that winged out unnaturally, and her cheeks were so bright that it looked as though she emptied her whole make-up set on them. Deirdre wore crop-tops and leather jackets, denim jeans that were whitewashed and stilettos that were 30 centimetres tall. She was the absolute faker.