by D. V. EEDEN
“Miss Adelaide, this has just arrived for you,” she says, placing the box directly on the counter in front of me. Unable to contain my eagerness, I jump off my stool and pick up a pair of scissors from a drawer, cutting the tape that’s holding the box closed. Squealing in excitement, I rip open the rest of the parcel tape, opening the box and seeing my whole life packed away neatly. My heart races as I pick out the first photo album, which holds all my memories of my mum and family back home.
I put that to the side on the counter, not wanting to look inside just yet. I’ll wait until I’m on my own before I reminisce. I rummage through the rest of the contents of the box, packed with scrap books, jewelry, and trinkets from my friends. The tears in my eyes start to well up, the sadness taking over me with the knowledge that my old life is packed into such a small box. I wipe away the tears that fall and pack the contents back in the box, taking it up to my room for me to organise later at the academy.
I’d rather have these kept close to me than being kept here.
The clock ticks at nine and the doorbell rings, signaling the elocution teacher is here. I stand at the bottom of the stairs as Mrs. Blossom answers the door to Ms. Veronica. A blonde, pale middle-aged woman dressed in a matching light pink skirt and blazer walks into the house with a huge grin on her face and the biggest sunglasses I have ever seen.
“You must be Adelaide?” she says, taking off her bug sunglasses. Her bright grey eyes go wide, scanning my body from head to toe.
“You really are a beauty, aren’t you dear?” she says in a patronizing tone.
Biting the inner side of my cheek, I try to repress the sarcasm from pouring out. I take a deep breath before I finally greet this overbearing woman in front of me.
“Hi, yes I’m Adelaide and thanks,” I say with a brief smile before it falters. Mrs. Blossom leads us into the drawing room, where a pot of tea and two teacups with saucers are already placed on the table with a couple of finger biscuits.
Seriously, these posh twats.
“I can see why your father wanted you to have elocution lessons. We need to get rid of that horrid accent of yours,” she drawls, taking a seat on the grey sofa and pouring us both a cup of tea.
Rolling my eyes and trying not to snap at this woman, I take a seat in the grey armchair facing her, crossing my left leg over the other. She tuts, waving her finger at me. “Oh dear. First lesson, you need to sit like a lady.” She shows me how her legs are closed at the knee, leaning to one side and her spine dead straight.
She kind of looks like she has a stick stuck up her ass.
I imitate and sit like a ‘proper lady’, feeling thoroughly uncomfortable. Ms. Veronica picks up her tea, taking a sip but her pinky finger sticks out, so I mimic her actions. The corners of her lips curl up slightly, pleased.
We carry on sipping our tea with no conversation until she demands for me to walk from one side of the room to the other.
I thought this was elocution lessons, not learning how to walk.
“I need to see how you walk Adelaide, so I can assess your mannerisms.” She stands up from the sofa, observing my walk. I do this a couple of times from one end to the other, watching the concentration on Ms. Veronica’s face as she taps her index finger on her chin.
“You walk like a lazy, homeless person,” she articulates, sauntering over to me on the other side of the room. She pushes my back and stomach in and adjusts my shoulders. “Right, chin up and stare at the blue vase on the other side of the room, then walk over to it.”
Why anyone would ever walk like a cardboard cutout baffles me. This is uncomfortable.
“You should feel as though you are floating on the air. Walk as if you’re a proud woman,” she sings. Closing my eyes, I try and block her out, counting to ten and controlling my breathing so I don’t bite. I open my eyes, walking over to the blue vase and following her instructions. She claps to herself, squealing with delight. “Well done dear!”
We take a seat back on the sofas, where I sit with my legs closed, back straight like she taught me. She pours us both another cup of tea before continuing with ‘Speech Therapy’ as she likes to call it.
‘’We need to try and practice your speech therapy. We need to get rid of that dreaded accent of yours. It shan’t do in this society, and you come across too harsh.’’ She huffs before taking a sip of tea. I fidget with my fingers as I pick the skin around my nails, offended by her honesty but I nod along.
‘’Ladies need to be graceful, as if you were whispering but firm at the same time’’ she hums and I tilt my head to the side, lifting my eyebrow as she contradicts herself.
How the fuck can I be whispering, but be firm at the same time? I feel like she can’t make up her stupid mind.
“Adelaide?” I hear my name being shouted out from the foyer. My father calls out again before opening the door and entering the drawing room. He stands in the doorway with his hands in his trouser pockets, all suited up as if he were in a business meeting. His hair is neatly cut and styled, not a strand out of place. He screams business and dominance.
“Ah, Ms. Veronica, I hope my daughter isn’t any trouble. I know she needs a lot of fixing.”
My eyes open wide as I glare at my father in disbelief.
Inhaling a deep breath, I reply, “I didn’t realize I needed fixing, father.”
They both look over in my direction My father’s dark eyes meet mine, the anger noticeably clear at my interjection. He purses his lips before his face softens and he chuckles.
“Yes dear, of course you do. Whatever your mother did to you in that country is just not suitable. I want a lady for a daughter, not an orphan who looks and acts as though she got lost in the wilderness for years,” he mocks, causing Ms. Veronica to laugh, cackling with her hand on her chest.
Bile rises from my stomach into my throat and I try swallowing it down. I conceal my anger by picking up my cup of tea, sipping the hot drink and counting to ten in my head.
“I shall leave you ladies to it, then.” Father exits the room, leaving Ms. Veronica panting with a flushed face. Oh god, she fancies my father. Now I want to be sick.
“You heard the man, let’s get straight back to work,” she announces and that’s what we do for the whole day, not even with a ten-minute break. She teaches me how to eat properly, what cutlery to use for what dish, which wine or champagne glass should be used at a dinner table and so on.
I am officially spent. How do ladies live like this? Constantly worrying about how they look, how they walk or eat and drink. It’s fucking stupid.
The grandfather clock in the far-right corner chimes, signaling the time has just hit seven in the evening. “Oh, will you look at the time!” Ms. Veronica announces, straightening her back as the clock chimes. “I think it’s best to end the lesson and carry on another time. We have accomplished a lot today. I will organise with your father the next session, as we have a long way to go yet.”
“Okay, Ms. Veronica. Thank you for today,” I offer a fake smile, trying my best not to scream at her. After the devil woman leaves, I stomp back to the kitchen, not taking her advice to always walk ‘properly’ whilst grab myself a glass of orange juice. I gulp it down and pour myself another.
God, I wish this were straight tequila or something.
I huff and puff around the kitchen, not noticing Sally in the corner by the pantry, laughing behind her hand.
“I am so sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in here,” I tell her, my cheeks flushing red because she just saw my little episode.
“It’s okay, I understand why you’re upset. She sounded dreadful,” she says, making her way over to the fridge and pulling out a few groceries. She places the contents onto the countertop and plucks out a big pot from under the counter.
“Do you want something to eat? I am making stew,” she wiggles her eyebrows at me. I take a seat at the breakfast table, my chin resting in the palm of my hand as Sally chops up the vegetables.
“I’m just so
pissed off that everyone thinks I need to be fixed,” I emphasize with two fingers. Tears prickle at the back of my eyes and my face feels hot as the anger fizzles up in my veins again. I scrub my hands over my face, trying not to let the tears fall, but they come anyway. I have never cried this much in my life. It’s as if no one takes into consideration that my mum died a few weeks ago. The fact that my father mentioned me being an orphan too… well, I may as well be. No one at the academy even knows I have a family, so to them I am an orphan. What’s even worse is I haven’t told my best friends about my father because every time I come close, fear takes over me and I hesitate.
“Adelaide, you do not need to be fixed. Your father is an exceedingly difficult man. He’s got his skeletons and it won’t be long until you find them,” Sally murmurs and I lift my head to look at her, but she isn’t looking in my direction.
Skeletons? What does she mean by that?
I wipe away my tears with the sleeve of my top, feeling pathetic all over again. Sally puts a bowl of beef stew in front of me with some dumplings. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I smelled the wonderful aroma of food.
I stayed at the house a little while longer enjoying the company of Sally and eating a good hearty meal for once. The stew she made was delightful, I even had another helping which is very unlike me, but she made me feel comfortable so I didn’t even think about my weight or the fact that I can’t really eat a hearty meal in front of someone.
She let me blabber on about my mum, and all my friends from back home, which was lovely. Even though I didn’t ask her a lot of questions about herself, she told me a little about her life. She’s a few years older than me and started working for my father over a year ago. She dreams of becoming a Michelin star chef one day, and honestly with the food she cooks I don’t think she is that far off. Apparently, the Italian chef who cooks all my father’s meal was a big-time chef, but he decided that he didn’t want the stress anymore and only wanted to work for rich people in their home kitchens. He fully supports Sally in her dreams, though. He sounds like an ideal idol to have. Where’s mine?
Steve drives me back to the academy before ten so that I have some time to study. Once I get back to the dorm room, I find Blaire sitting on her bed and as soon as I close the door behind me, she runs up to me, hugging me so tightly around my arms. A fat tear runs down her cheek.
“I am so sorry for what my god-awful brother did to you, I also heard about the drowning,” she sobs, turning her gaze to the floor.
I wasn’t prepared for this, but I guess I should confide in her more.
I let out a big sigh. “I should be the one who’s sorry for not telling you Blaire. I was scared. He is your brother after all,” I deflate, and Blaire takes my hand, dragging me to sit down next to her on the bed.
“I was embarrassed, I mean I don’t know what I did wrong,” I shrug my shoulders, still unable to look directly at her.
She lifts my chin up with her fingers, moving my head from side to side to inspect the damage, but lucky for me the concealer has removed the evidence. I am surprised my father didn’t notice when he saw me earlier.
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about Ade. Blake is such a prick and I really do not understand what’s come over him,” she says with concern in her voice, clasping her hand on my shoulder as her big brown eyes stare directly into mine. She truly looks apologetic, and I know she is on my side. “Plus, you did some good work at hiding it with make-up,” she innocently chuckles, and I join her, feeling as though a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I still have so much to tell her but expressing little bits of myself at a time works for me.
I run myself a bubble bath so that I can read a book and relax. After the weekend I’ve had, it’s needed. Blaire has gone to the dining hall to pick up some food bits for us to nibble on later while we put on a film and have a girly night. I wash my face, rubbing away at the make-up, revealing the purple bruises under my nose and eyes. My nose is a little swollen but luckily, it’s not broken. The bags under my eyes are so apparent from where I didn’t properly sleep the night before, so I’m really looking forward to climbing into my memory foam mattress bed to sleep it all off.
Once getting changed into a satin night dress, I tie my hair into a messy bun on top of my head, before bracing for the fact that Blaire will now see my face with no make-up. Now she will really see the damage.
Opening the door to the bedroom, Blaire’s hands automatically hide the gasp on her face. “Oh Ade,” she says, her brows furrowed, eyes narrowed as she stares at my broken purple face. “Put it this way, at least you look tough,” she shrugs her shoulders and I know she’s joking.
I toss a pillow at her to shut her up, both of us laughing it off.
We put on one of Blaire’s favorite classic films, ‘My Fair Lady’, which is about a cockney lady played by Audrey Hepburn, who sells this gentleman flowers and learns that he can teach people how to speak ‘proper’ and pass them off to be either a duke or duchess at a ball. Eliza Doolittle actually goes to this gentleman for help as she wants to become a proper lady and I can’t help but giggle to myself at the thought. This man - Professor Henry Higgins – believes accent and tone of another person’s voice are important in high society and that you can tell if you are basically rich or poor by it, to put things bluntly.
At least Eliza Doolittle had the choice and actually asked for help whereas I am being forced to do it. Also, the fact that this is the same attitude in the real world and not just a stupid film is ridiculous. In fact, the film is brilliant. I’m enjoying every second of it, and Audrey really plays her character well. Once the film has ended, we switch off the TV, tucking ourselves into bed ready to sleep.
“Ade, I just want to say I am so sorry again,” Blaire whispers from her bed, and I can hear her rustling between the bedsheets.
“You shouldn’t have to apologize for his behavior, Blaire. It’s not your fault,” I reason, my voice cracking as I speak. I swallow the thick mucus building up in my throat, and I hear Blaire sigh to herself before she speaks again.
“I know I shouldn’t, but I honestly have no idea what has gotten into him lately. He has changed and I feel embarrassed. I get why you were scared but you can tell me anything Ade, I will always have your back,” Blaire apologizes to me once more, feeling guilty for all of her brother’s behavior. It’s not her fault that he’s the Antichrist, destined to make my life hell. Maybe that is why he was put on this Earth? To make me fall to my knees, begging for mercy. Testing my patience and making me beg for forgiveness for any sin I’ve ever committed.
Maybe this is what I deserve…
As I wake up, Blaire is already in the shower. Without thinking about it, I rub my eyes, wincing at the slightest touch to the bruises. It will be a painful experience just putting on some make-up.
“Good morning sleeping beauty,” Blaire hums, exiting the bathroom only wearing her white fluffy robe and a towel wrapped around her hair. She looks flawless even wearing a bloody robe and a towel turban on her head, whereas I’d look like a drowned rat.
“Morning,” I yawn, grimacing at the pain.
I sit on the edge of my bed trying not to finish rubbing the sleep from my eyes, knowing how painful it will be.
“Oh hon, is it that painful?” she asks with concern.
“Yeah, but I’ll be fine,” I assure her. I quickly jump in the shower, being careful when washing my face. I dab the wet cloth over my bruises, attempting to clean around my nose. I swear at myself a couple of times in the mirror every time I press too hard, rage fueling in my gut, ready to scream.
Count to ten Ade and breathe.
Attempting to put some make-up on, I grimace, trying to hide the purple and blue bruises, but they seem to be more prominent today. The bristles of the makeup brush sting my skin with every stroke as I blend the concealer. I apply some mascara to my long eyelashes, and a bit of blusher to hide the rest. I suppose I’m wearing a mask today like I do every day
, looking fine on the outside but underneath I’m battered and bruised.
Styling my hair, I curl the ends and clip the top half, creating a half up half down do. I finish my look off with some nude lipstick and stare at myself in the mirror, happy with the outcome. The bruises are hidden, and my nose is slightly contoured to look less swollen.
Blaire whistles from behind me in the doorway. “Damn girl, you look hawt,” she says in an American accent and I pout, shaking off the feeling of discomfort. I probably won’t be able to move my face much throughout the day, which is hard considering I frown a lot.
“This will look cute,” Blaire exclaims, taking out a blue ribbon from her drawer in the nightstand. Facing me, she ties a cute little bow in the clipped half of my hair. I look in the mirror, suddenly surprised by what she means. I am really starting to look like a girly girl. Maisie is already at our table in the dining hall when we arrive, and the food has already been ordered. This girl is a literal saint. She knows exactly what we want in the morning and orders our breakfast, not forgetting the coffee and of course my orange juice. I have no idea how I lived life before these two.
Well, my life here anyway.
We eat our breakfast in peace without any comments from the Royals and it’s a blessing. Hopefully, they feel guilty after what they did to me on Saturday, which is why they can’t even make eye contact. Weirdly enough, Royce hasn’t even acknowledged me this morning, which is out of character. Maybe I don’t like this little blessing in disguise. I have a horrible feeling about today which makes me anxious. Blaire notices too, assuring me nothing will happen on her watch and that she will be by my side the whole day. Lucky for me today we have classes together.
The whole day passes quietly, without a single remark from any student in the academy. No one even makes a sex joke, or a comment about me being tribal or riddled with diseases. Hopefully, everyone has gotten over the fact that I’m the new girl and that I haven’t retaliated. I make my way over to my locker with Blaire and Maisie in tow, gossiping about their weekend when I discover a note sticking out from my locker.