Clockwork Daisy

Chapter 3

Ellie

Chapter 3

My formal entrance into the new house was not a graceful one. I sprinted from the backyard, shoes still in grasp, and swung open the french doors. Somewhere between the running and pushing, my balance got lost and I tripped onto the dark cherry hardwood. I landed on my knees, saving my forehead from a concussion worthy fate. After a slight cough and a dusting off of my jeans, I stood up. Two moving men carrying one of bubble wrap sealed couches had looks of concern layering their faces. I gave a comical bow to reassure them. They nodded and continued their argument about who had the job of bringing the heavy armoire in.

"Ellen!" My mother entered from the left through a rounded archway. From the looks of it, that room was to be for dining. "What did you think of the view?"

"It was beyond lovely, mother." I beamed.

"Perfect for parties, isn't it?" Mother adjusted one of her over sized earrings. 

"Sure, mother." I said, agreeing because I knew it wouldn't matter if I played the other side anyway. Mother loved to throw lavish parties. 

"So," Mother spun around. "What do you think of the grand entrance?"

I hadn't even noticed the staircase when I came in. Probably because the first thing I saw in the house was the handy work of the hardwood floor. But the staircase was a completely different story. The first thought that popped into my mind was Cinderella. The staircase was wide and practically shining. That could be because there was a large skylight placed strategically above it. Even the iron handlebars it boasted looked warm and inviting. 

I chocked back a gasp. "It's amazing. It's perfect for-"

"I agree." Mother nodded. But she didn't know what she was agreeing too. And to think the woman thought she could read my mind. I practically flew up the staircase. It took longer than I anticipated, but I wasn't even out of breath upon reaching the top. Then, in one swift movement, I was sitting on the railing, sliding back down at top speed with a rush of adrenaline. Once I reached the end, I calmly hopped off and joined my mother once again. She had a look of pure shock on her face. "Ellen Beatrice Wells!"

"What?" I played innocent. "You said you agreed!"

"I guess I shouldn't be so quick to assume what's coming out of your mouth, young lady." Mother huffed. "I thought you were referring to how perfect it will be for your Sixteen Gala." 

I pursed my lips. The Sixteen Gala. It was a blessed tradition in my mother's family. When a girl reaches her sixteenth birthday, a huge formal party is held, with mostly adults on the guest list. There's delicious food (catered, of course. Apparently no one has time to cook in this family) and there's this "special" moment when the guest of honor makes her grand entrance in a glorious gown and she shares a slow dance with her escort. But the girl doesn't get to choose who she dances with, oh no, that's the mother's job. Back in New York, my mother had a laundry list of possible candidates for me. But now that we were on new territory and my sixteenth birthday got closer by the day, I wondered who my "Prince Charming" would be."

"Can't you imagine yourself walking down these stairs during your grand entrance? There will be a pianist playing in the background, guests mingling in all this open space in front of you. Darling it will be fabulous." She laid a cold hand on my shoulder. "Aren't you excited?"

"Thrilled." I crossed my arms across my chest to show my enthusiasm. 

"I don't know what's wrong with you, Ellen." Mother said crisply. "When I was your age, my Sixteen Gala was all I thought about. I had been thinking about what dress I'd wear since I was five! It turned out wonderfully. It's the same one you"ll-"

"I know, Mother. It's the same one I'll be wearing." I didn't look at her when I said it. The dress was terrible. It may have been wonderful once, but with it's overuse of taffeta and puffed sleeves, it had lost its luster throughout the years. 

"Okay, maybe you're just stressed." Mother tried to think of an excuse for my attitude that made sense to her. "I get it. It's been a long day. We'll discuss the gala later. For now, how about you go upstairs and check out your room? It's the first one on the left."

That's right. I didn't even get to pick out my own bedroom. I patted my mother on the back and ascended the stair case. Instead of running like last time, I took each step carefully, eyes glued to the floor below me. 

My room was big. Not that I expected a small one. The walls appeared to be the same color yellow as the house, but I planned on painting them anyway so it didn't matter. I was pleased to find a window seat resting against a glossy bay window. Most of my furniture was still wrapped in protective layers from the move, including my bed frame, which rested against one of the walls, waiting to be put back together again. That left my mattress sitting bare in the middle of the room. I threw my shoes onto the ground and watched them slide across the hardwood until they hit a corner. With free hands, I jumped onto my mattress, allowing my body to sprawl in different directions. My eyes focused on the small chandeliers over my head, the light fuzzing my vision. I had a feeling I might drift into sleep, but I was so completely aware of my own pumping heartbeat that I felt compelled to stay awake. 

I did another sweep of the room from my spot. The door to my walk in closet was slightly ajar, but I didn't have a hankering to go in. My furniture was staggered in random places, presumably because the movers had lost steam and honestly didn't really care where the pieces landed. I didn't blame them. They were strong and rarely complained. One of my pieces of furniture caught my eye the most, though. Closest to the window sat my desk. I couldn't see the details well through all that wrapping, but I knew its shape by heart. I walked over to it, resting a hand on its surface. A feeling of dread rushed through me as I realized school was two days away. For once in my life, I'd be the new kid. I had always felt uncomfortable around new kids. I never knew how to start a conversation with them, and I was afraid they'd judge me. So I just stayed glued to the friends I'd once ate glue with. They were familiar to me. They were comfortable.

"We'll have to get that unwrapped first, huh?" I hadn't even heard my father come in. He was hanging in the doorway,  a tight smile on his face.

"Unfortunately." I said, once again taking my place on the mattress. 

"Unfortunately?" Father literally scratched his head. "Ellen, you love school."

"Things are different now." I gazed out the window and into the sun. "I don't know anyone. I'm basically an outcast."

Father sighed. "You're being dramatic, Ellen. You're not an outcast, you're just new." When I didn't respond, he continued. "What are you so afraid of?"

I was going to talk, but he had already left, leaving the question hanging like a teacher trying to get your thoughts churning. I responded anyway. "I'm afraid they'll ignore me like I ignored them." 

I'm certain no one heard.