Nothing. There was complete silence, so silent that I could hear the
pounding of the blood in my own ears. Well I was going to escape that witch
that my father was married to if my life depended on it. Huh. Well we'll
just see if she lasts longer than the others. Fat chance. I muttered a
foul curse, then clapped a hand over my mouth when I remembered that young
ladies simply did not say such vile expletives. Oh well.
I crept down our grand sweeping marble stairs carpeted with crimson fleur- de-france plush done in gold thread, and tried to move languidly so as not to disturb the great Swarovski crystal chandelier and make it tinkle. This house sometimes creeped me out, because of its massive size and gloominess, but it was the house which was my real mother's favorite, for its beautiful gardens.
"Mili darling!" I winced. And note, that is not my name. My name is Emilia Serafina Hiiragizawa. My father, Eriol Hiirigizawa. My supposed step- mother, Solange Prudhomme Hiiragizawa. Yep, that's right. She's French and acts like it. Too bad she tries so hard to be my "friend". She simply wants another way to control my father even more. I really despise her.
I turned with a stiff smile.
"Emilia, if you please, Solange."
"Oh don't be silly dear, its Mere!" Like I was going to call her mother, even if it wasn't in my birth language. I tell you, that woman is far too blond for my tastes. She is beautiful, but in a sort of way that does not invoke too much respect.
"Anyway," she chattered on, "I really wanted to go shopping with you, and I thought that a téte-a-téte would do both of us a lot of good. Your thoughts?" Oh God help me. It was bad enough that my father insisted that we spend the summer in Calais, far enough from Paris to make me cry, but he also made me have to put up with this woman. She was so obnoxious. I was hard pressed to not roll my eyes at her.
"Ma chere," I said as politely as possible, "it would please me very much to do so, but I am afraid that I have a rendez-vous with my friend, Jacqueline. She would be disappointed if I did not meet her." I lie enough to guarantee myself a one-way ticket to hell. Purgatory at the least.
"But Solange, I will have plently of time tomorrow, so we might meet at, say, ten in the morning at the Café du Pont?" I blabbered inanely in French. I suppose that stupid conscience had gotten to me. Idiotic thing. At least it was an easy language to foul up one's day in. Solange flashed her megawatt smile. I wanted to cringe.
"Chere, of course! I will await our time eagerly!" Ech. Eek. What had I gotten myself into? I managed to withdraw from the foyer(but in this castle of a house, it should be called the antechamber) and make a quick exit. Well, Jacqueline had better be home.
I whipped out my chrome colored phone-compliments of Daddy, of course- and call Chirstophe. His housekeeper answered, and I managed to tell him to come and get me and Jacqueline quick. He assented.
I had plenty of time to think before Christophe's sleek black convertible, just from a German BMW factory pulled up. He had it customized in all sorts of ways. I shook my head in rueful amusement. He would never learn to stop having everything his way. It was just as well.
When he and Jacqueline picked me up, I told Christophe to whisk me to the nearest mall. At least Calais had malls. The last time Daddy took me to the U.S., I had a heyday at the Mall of America. I was jolted back to attention when Christophe made a sharp turn with a squealing of the large wheels, and gave him a sharp rap on his auburn head. He shrugged nonchalantly, though his dark eyes twinkled with amusement. He enjoyed making Jacqueline shriek, and she did not disappoint him. Jacqueline's hair, pure gold, was whipping around a face that made men stare, and sultry green eyes like a cat's were glowering at Christophe. He looked decidedly smug.
I strode into the mall like it belonged to me, ruminating darkly about the best way to dispose of chere Solange tomorrow morning.
"Chere, what is the matter? Is something wrong?" I nodded miserably. He gave me two quick kisses, one on each cheek. Christophe was so nice, he always let me have my way.
"Everything is wrong, Christophe. My stupid step-mother is really getting obnoxious, and she won't leave me alone." I pouted. Oh, he was so kind it was like being spoiled by Daddy all over again. Christophe always spoiled me.
"Then we must find a way to dispose of her, ma cherie. I would not want you to be unhappy." Oh, this was great. He led me to the Café la Glace, a very popular ice cream parlor with the young people in this area. It was frequented by anyone who was anyone. And I, I noted with pride, was certainly the someone of someones. Christophe, Jacqueline, and I were of the most popular group of young people around here, and in the circles of Paris, too. Many importants had summer homes here in Calais.
"But let us not think of this now, rather I have a new distraction for you." His eyes twinkled mischievously as he led me to a booth.
"There are several new faces here, and I thought that you might like to meet them."
"Are they males?" I asked hopefully.
"Of course, my dear!" he exclaimed. "That's exactly why I thought you would like them." I grinned. He knew me too well. Jacqueline, on the other hand, looked a bit panicky.
"Sacré bleu!" she wailed. "Christophe, you demon! I have not had enough time to prepare myself. Shame on you!" he shrugged innocently.
"But you look exactly beautiful and charming as you are, dear." He smiled angelically. I swear, that smile would get him his way-any way- with every girl. But he was chivalrous, and didn't.
"Might as well jump on in with Christophe's hasty actions." Jacqueline muttered. She was so narcissistic sometimes, and worried a lot about her looks, but was fun once she forgot about them. Oh, and yes, she twirled men around her little finger. I shook my head. I would have to ask her one day how she gets so much out of them yet never give anything. Nothing at all.
These were new faces. I had never seen any of them before. Christophe introduced me, since he knew them all from a soireé his father had held. Being the governor's son really had its up times.
"Emilia chere, Jacqueline chere, this is Christian Antonio Visconti. He is the ambassador of Italy's son." I smiled graciously and aimed at him, with deadly accuracy , a sultry look. Hey, I didn't spend all these summers with Jacqueline for nothing. And besides, collecting admirers was very entertaining, if I did say so myself. And this Christian looked extremely nice.
"This, is Hans Sebastian Dietrich." I threw him a brilliant smile, for the Germans tend to be more polite and do not make much of someone too forward. I gave myself a mental pat on the back. I was good. Not as good as Jacqueline, but still very satisfactory.
"And this, Jacqueline, Emilia, is James Eriol Daidouji." My head whipped around from where it had been straying. It was not possible. I think my mouth dropped open.
"Madam." James said. "We meet at very last. How have you been since the last time we met, sixteen years before?" My birth, I acknowledged numbly. The last time we had met, was when we were born.
His mouth quirked in a half-smile, an ironic smile that commented on the sarcastic attitude of life.
"Indeed." I replied graciously. "How have you been for these last sixteen years?"
I crept down our grand sweeping marble stairs carpeted with crimson fleur- de-france plush done in gold thread, and tried to move languidly so as not to disturb the great Swarovski crystal chandelier and make it tinkle. This house sometimes creeped me out, because of its massive size and gloominess, but it was the house which was my real mother's favorite, for its beautiful gardens.
"Mili darling!" I winced. And note, that is not my name. My name is Emilia Serafina Hiiragizawa. My father, Eriol Hiirigizawa. My supposed step- mother, Solange Prudhomme Hiiragizawa. Yep, that's right. She's French and acts like it. Too bad she tries so hard to be my "friend". She simply wants another way to control my father even more. I really despise her.
I turned with a stiff smile.
"Emilia, if you please, Solange."
"Oh don't be silly dear, its Mere!" Like I was going to call her mother, even if it wasn't in my birth language. I tell you, that woman is far too blond for my tastes. She is beautiful, but in a sort of way that does not invoke too much respect.
"Anyway," she chattered on, "I really wanted to go shopping with you, and I thought that a téte-a-téte would do both of us a lot of good. Your thoughts?" Oh God help me. It was bad enough that my father insisted that we spend the summer in Calais, far enough from Paris to make me cry, but he also made me have to put up with this woman. She was so obnoxious. I was hard pressed to not roll my eyes at her.
"Ma chere," I said as politely as possible, "it would please me very much to do so, but I am afraid that I have a rendez-vous with my friend, Jacqueline. She would be disappointed if I did not meet her." I lie enough to guarantee myself a one-way ticket to hell. Purgatory at the least.
"But Solange, I will have plently of time tomorrow, so we might meet at, say, ten in the morning at the Café du Pont?" I blabbered inanely in French. I suppose that stupid conscience had gotten to me. Idiotic thing. At least it was an easy language to foul up one's day in. Solange flashed her megawatt smile. I wanted to cringe.
"Chere, of course! I will await our time eagerly!" Ech. Eek. What had I gotten myself into? I managed to withdraw from the foyer(but in this castle of a house, it should be called the antechamber) and make a quick exit. Well, Jacqueline had better be home.
I whipped out my chrome colored phone-compliments of Daddy, of course- and call Chirstophe. His housekeeper answered, and I managed to tell him to come and get me and Jacqueline quick. He assented.
I had plenty of time to think before Christophe's sleek black convertible, just from a German BMW factory pulled up. He had it customized in all sorts of ways. I shook my head in rueful amusement. He would never learn to stop having everything his way. It was just as well.
When he and Jacqueline picked me up, I told Christophe to whisk me to the nearest mall. At least Calais had malls. The last time Daddy took me to the U.S., I had a heyday at the Mall of America. I was jolted back to attention when Christophe made a sharp turn with a squealing of the large wheels, and gave him a sharp rap on his auburn head. He shrugged nonchalantly, though his dark eyes twinkled with amusement. He enjoyed making Jacqueline shriek, and she did not disappoint him. Jacqueline's hair, pure gold, was whipping around a face that made men stare, and sultry green eyes like a cat's were glowering at Christophe. He looked decidedly smug.
I strode into the mall like it belonged to me, ruminating darkly about the best way to dispose of chere Solange tomorrow morning.
"Chere, what is the matter? Is something wrong?" I nodded miserably. He gave me two quick kisses, one on each cheek. Christophe was so nice, he always let me have my way.
"Everything is wrong, Christophe. My stupid step-mother is really getting obnoxious, and she won't leave me alone." I pouted. Oh, he was so kind it was like being spoiled by Daddy all over again. Christophe always spoiled me.
"Then we must find a way to dispose of her, ma cherie. I would not want you to be unhappy." Oh, this was great. He led me to the Café la Glace, a very popular ice cream parlor with the young people in this area. It was frequented by anyone who was anyone. And I, I noted with pride, was certainly the someone of someones. Christophe, Jacqueline, and I were of the most popular group of young people around here, and in the circles of Paris, too. Many importants had summer homes here in Calais.
"But let us not think of this now, rather I have a new distraction for you." His eyes twinkled mischievously as he led me to a booth.
"There are several new faces here, and I thought that you might like to meet them."
"Are they males?" I asked hopefully.
"Of course, my dear!" he exclaimed. "That's exactly why I thought you would like them." I grinned. He knew me too well. Jacqueline, on the other hand, looked a bit panicky.
"Sacré bleu!" she wailed. "Christophe, you demon! I have not had enough time to prepare myself. Shame on you!" he shrugged innocently.
"But you look exactly beautiful and charming as you are, dear." He smiled angelically. I swear, that smile would get him his way-any way- with every girl. But he was chivalrous, and didn't.
"Might as well jump on in with Christophe's hasty actions." Jacqueline muttered. She was so narcissistic sometimes, and worried a lot about her looks, but was fun once she forgot about them. Oh, and yes, she twirled men around her little finger. I shook my head. I would have to ask her one day how she gets so much out of them yet never give anything. Nothing at all.
These were new faces. I had never seen any of them before. Christophe introduced me, since he knew them all from a soireé his father had held. Being the governor's son really had its up times.
"Emilia chere, Jacqueline chere, this is Christian Antonio Visconti. He is the ambassador of Italy's son." I smiled graciously and aimed at him, with deadly accuracy , a sultry look. Hey, I didn't spend all these summers with Jacqueline for nothing. And besides, collecting admirers was very entertaining, if I did say so myself. And this Christian looked extremely nice.
"This, is Hans Sebastian Dietrich." I threw him a brilliant smile, for the Germans tend to be more polite and do not make much of someone too forward. I gave myself a mental pat on the back. I was good. Not as good as Jacqueline, but still very satisfactory.
"And this, Jacqueline, Emilia, is James Eriol Daidouji." My head whipped around from where it had been straying. It was not possible. I think my mouth dropped open.
"Madam." James said. "We meet at very last. How have you been since the last time we met, sixteen years before?" My birth, I acknowledged numbly. The last time we had met, was when we were born.
His mouth quirked in a half-smile, an ironic smile that commented on the sarcastic attitude of life.
"Indeed." I replied graciously. "How have you been for these last sixteen years?"
