This is for Another Artist's A Little Is A Lot challenge.
June 6th, 2011
Amy Cahill wasn't one for fashion. But, apparently, her mother was.
She leafed through a copy of Glamour- the May 2000 edition. She had found a box of old papers shoved in a closet, and was taking comfort in her mother's familiar handwriting scrawled through the pamphlets.
Simple messages like, ugly or would look nice with a pencil skirt? dotted the pages, haphazardly scribbled on the glossy pages of fashion trends past.
She sat, her back propped against the side of her bed, her cell phone vibrated- a text message from a friend at school- but she paid it no heed. She couldn't tell the difference between Burberry plaid and Prada plaid, but her mom's messages where what mattered.
She flipped the page to a spread about the new glam look (new for the turn of the century, of course). It was all classic, black and grey and navy, understated but not austere. Simple jewelry ruled, a far cry from the Lady Gaga-esque outlandishness of Amy's time.
And, right in the center of the page, was a message from her mother, written in thin black ink.
Beautiful. I hope when Amy is old enough to care about these things, she will dress like this.
Amy looked down. She wore jeans with holes in them, but not the fashionable holes. Holes from overuse, holes from climbing over fences and falling down. She had on a light grey t-shirt with faded red lettering on it- Boston Lifeguard Corps, it read.
She wore a thin silver ring, simple, it was true, but it wasn't as much simple as it was plain. Boring.
Amy couldn't help but feel like she'd let Hope down. She was boring, unfashionable, plain, lame old Amy Cahill. She of ratty hair and un-made-up eyes, she who felt ugly and awkward in the face of eleven-year-old Natalie Kabra.
She wasn't anything special, she was just Amy. She didn't want to see anymore intimidating fashion spreads, so she set the magazine down, and opened her cell phone.
Amy! The text read. Tomorrow, let's dress like twins for school. Wear your red Boston High JV Volleyball shirt and those super cute jeans with the holes in them.
Amy smiled. At least her friend Catie, some random nice girl from school, thought her good enough to want to dress like her.
Amy reopened the magazine again, and looked at the page again. Maybe she wasn't as high-fashion-y, perfectly made-up as the supermodels in the magazine. But, you know what, she was pretty enough, and her clothing was understated (but not austere). Understated, not intentionally, of course, but who cared?
Amy peeled off the post-it-note, stood up, and stuck it on her nightstand.
"Sharpies and sticky notes made up our last memories," she said, smiling. And, even though she hadn't fulfilled Hope's wish for her, it was still a memory, still a thread connecting her to her long-lost mother.
Love it? Hate it? Review, please.
Is Hope a little OOC? I mean, we don't really know exactly what she was like. She could have been all Isabel Kabra stylish. But since Amy is the opposite of a Kabra, do you think her mother would be the same way?
I got the idea because, ahem, I'm reading back issues of Glamour at the moment. And somebody wrote random comments in them.
Also, do you think I could benefit from a beta reader?