Kidnapped?

by Rebecca Alderson

  ~*~

  Half an hour later, I looked at myself in the mirror. My hair had been cut so that it now rested just above the shoulders in a sort of a long bob. My once dark hair was now more of a strawberry blond. I did look different; I hardly recognised myself.

  I wasn't sure that I liked the look, but it was too late now. I had to live with it.

  Claire came in the bathroom.

  ‘Your hair looks nice, it suits you. Now go put something on and then come into the kitchen; we need to talk some more.’

  With that she left and I went into the bedroom and walked over with some reluctance to the three carrier bags.

  I opened the first bag and saw some under things, you know. Bras and panties; a couple sets of PJ’s, all a bit too young and girlie for my liking and three pairs of short white socks with pink edging.

  I shuddered, not being too keen on pink. I put the stuff on the bed and then went over to the next bag. Looking in, I saw that there was two skirts one black and another pink, a white blouse and yet another in pink. Also there was a yellow strappy type thin dress, which was yellow in colour with tiny flowers; finally, there was a thin white cardigan.

  After putting the stuff on the bed, I picked up the final bag, hoping to find some jeans, maybe leggings...

  I heart dropped through the floor as I saw that the bag only contained shoes; white sandals and some black shoes with low chunky heals.

  Sighing, I went over to the bed and sat down. I wasn’t happy about this, but had no choice; what to wear?

  I much preferred jeans and capri’s and clothes that weren’t pink. As far as I was concerned, pink was for little girls and I wasn’t little anymore. I suppose, I was a bit small for my age, but I make up for that by having a big personality! I never was into skirts and dresses. It wasn't me. They called me a tomboy, but I just liked what I was most comfortable to be in. It was bad enough that I had to wear a training bra!

  I rummaged through the clothes and with distaste, finally picked up the black skirt and white top. I just couldn’t handle pink! I slipped on the blouse; it was cotton, similar to my school one. Next I pulled on the skirt; it had an elasticated waist so I didn’t have any zips or buttons to worry about. It came just above my knees. I sniffed, thinking that I looked dorky, weird and stupid. On an impulse, I turned over the waistband a few times and then the hem was about mid-thigh. That was better. If I had to wear a skirt, I didn’t want to look like a convent reject.

  After putting on the ankle socks,I finally, slipped on the shoes; they felt a bit strange as they made me feel a bit taller (good) and clomped as I walked over to the door (bad). I much preferred trainers but I didn’t have that choice.

  Looking at my reflection on the wardrobe door, I didn’t like what I saw. I still felt that I looked about ten, a dorky, gormless ten year old, dressed by a mummy who had absolutely no dress sense.

  At least I took comfort that I looked very different to my normal self.

  I left the bedroom and followed my nose to the kitchen. Claire was stirring something on the cooker; it smelt like tomato soup.

  ‘Hello.’ I said shyly, feeling all awkward in these strange, alien clothes.

  She turned round and smiled.

  ‘You look lovely Emma and your hair really suits you!

  ‘Spose.’

  ‘Come on; try to be enthusiastic about this. You are helping your father, after all.’

  ‘I know; I’ll try but it’s all a bit much...you know?’

  ‘I know; it’s all a bit of a shock. Look, the pizza we had at the services wasn't very large, so have some soup and then we’ll finish getting you ready.’

  I sipped at the hot soup, thinking of my Dad and where he might be. I still found it incredible that he was now a wanted man and also, I could not get my head around my changed look.

  After we finished our soup, we went back into the pinkyfied bedroom. I noticed that Claire had a couple of bags in her hands.

  ‘Come and sit at the dressing table. Look, we can’t call you Emma,So how about Melissa?’

  ‘I’m Emma.’

  ‘I know, and you’re a very brave girl. But we need to change your name; I can’t call you Emma, just in case it gets picked up by someone out to find you. So Melissa?’

  ‘I spose,’ I replied, unenthusiastically. I had changed my look, why not my name? After all that had happened, I was beyond caring.

  ‘Do you ever wear makeup?’

  ‘No, Dad doesn’t like it and I’m not too keen. Some of the other girls at school wear as much as they can get away with, but not me.

  ‘Well, in that case it will add to your disguise.’

  ‘Do I have to?’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid so. Okay, sit down Melissa.’

  It was strange being called that, but I just sat down. She stood in front of me and looked closely at my face.

  ‘Right, shut your eyes and keep them shut, OK? I only need to put a little bit of makeup on you. It will help with the disguise.’

  ‘OK, but not too much, please!’

  ‘Don’t be a wimp, Melissa. Anyway, you have nice clear skin, so there’s no need to overdo it.’

  Over the next few minutes, she did things to my face. I’m not sure what she did, but my eyes, cheeks and lips got painted, plastered or whatever and then she was finished.

  ‘Don’t open your eyes yet.’

  I kept them closed, although by now, I was a bit curios as to how much of a clown, I looked like. Perhaps I could run away to the circus or something! Eventually, after what seemed like hours but was probably minutes, she finally finished.

  ‘Right, what do you think?’