"Clare… We can't be here…"
"But, please, I need you." She locked her crystal pools with his green ones. "You're the only one who understands…"
"Clarabelle! What are you doing here with that… that murderer!" A camera flashed, and her eyes looked up to meet her mothers, alight with concern; then her fathers, glowing darkly with anger and malice.
"Clarabelle! Get out of bed, it's practically noon!"
Clare rubbed her eyes and, sure enough, the sun had begun to shine through as Eloise opened the blinds one by one. "It's Clare," she corrected, gathering her nightgown and rising lazily out of bed. "What do I have to do today?"
Clare watched as the new maid, Eloise, opened the closet and began to pull out undergarments, hanging them each on Clare's closet door. Eloise was a small woman, with a round, cheerful face and a nice smile. But still, Clare despised having maids.
To be quite honest, Clare despised the glamorous life that all other 16-year-old Manhattan girls envied. Secretly, Clarabelle Edwards wanted adventure; no, danger. She wanted to have a secret love affair with a boy her parents hated. She wanted to sneak from her third-story balcony in the dark of night, wearing a too-short dress she could actually breathe in. She longed to be free of cameras and reporters, desperate to capture every moment of the lives of the wealthiest family in New York.
"Lunch with the Coyne family, then dinner and a ball tonight with the- Oh, who's that new family in town? Ah, the Torres's. Pretty little girl they have. Grace, I think her name was. And I thought you could wear your blue Chanel gown, it makes your eyes look beautiful." Eloise smiled at Clare and she returned it. "You'll want to make a good impression, that Andrew Torres is quite the looker." Eloise winked at her.
Clare's face fell, and all positive feelings she previously had towards Eloise vanished at the mention of another marriable bachelor her mother pre-approved of. Way too often, Clare had arrived at a luncheon or a benefit to find an overly handsome young man with a custom suit and a thick wallet.
But Clare didn't want handsome; she wanted gorgeous. She wanted eyes so deep she could get lost in them, lips so full they could enclose hers just right…
"Clarabelle? Can I help you into your corset?"
"No, Eloise, I can do it myself."
"But your mother instructed-"
"I won't tell her. Now, can I have some privacy please?"
"Yes, ma'am," she gathered her things and began to bustle out the door.
"Thank you, and 'Clare' will be fine."
Eloise smiled, "Yes… Clare." She winked her eye again and left. Clare collapsed on her freshly-made bed, not caring that she was wrinkling the sheets. She glared across the room at the corset hanging on her closet door.
She got up and walked past it, stepping lightly onto her balcony. She closed her eyes and let the sun warm her face as the wind cooled her body.
"Clarabelle Diane Edwards! Why is your corset still sitting in your closet?" Her mother's voice rang angrily throughout the house.
Goodbye, breathing. Clare thought miserably to herself.
Unwillingly, she pulled herself into the corset and tightened the laces. Next came the petticoat, which she detested more than all the stocking and gowns in the world.
Fifteen painful minutes later, Clare sat on her vanity stool in a sky blue heap of silk as Eloise rolled her hair.
"So, I hear Andrew Torres has a trust fund the size of Georgia!" Clare noticed a twinge of the South in Eloise's voice, and it gave her a certain charm/
"I have my own trust fund to live on," Clare retorted, her voice emotionless.
"Yes, but think of how nice it would be to always feel secure."
"I don't want to feel secure any longer! I want, need dangerous scenario! I need to have a wild adventure! That's what the teenage years are for; making mindless mistakes! How am I ever going to learn anything without ever having the chance to?"
Eloise was silent for a moment. "Why on earth would you ever want to make mistakes? Not all teenagers do. And the ones who do make these mistakes end up like… like me."
Clare's expression softened as a blanket of silence fell upon them. "I-I'm sorry, Eloise." Although Eloise said nothing, Clare knew her apology was accepted.
Finally, she broke the silence. "We should take the rollers out of your hair," she smiled and began to release the new ringlets that fell just above Clare's shoulders.
"Beautiful," Eloise smiled.
Clare rose from her seat, than thanked and dismissed Eloise. She looked in the mirror, tousling her curls lightly. She had to say, she admired her appearance. Her parents had spent a lot of money wrecking her natural beauty, and replacing it with an artificial one.
But it would pay off when she married into a family as wealthy as hers was. At least, that's what her parents seemed to think.