Hi! I wanted to write a story where they had to go to a ball and this came into my head. It just sort of ran away! I hope you enjoy!
***DISCLAIMER*** I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING IN THIS STORY. NO INFRINGEMENT INTENDED. ALL RIGHT GO TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS.
As it was my parent's ball, it was required of me to attend. I was told I was allowed to invite one friend and one date. My parents said they didn't mind who I brought, as long as they didn't dirty the furniture, dress inappropriately (and by that they meant any outfit under $1000) or embarrass them in any way.
They said as long as they upheld those three things, they didn't mind who came to this party. Of course, what they really meant was 'you'd better bring someone we approve of or else…'
And the very person that defined 'not approved of' in my parents book was my best friend, Alice Brandon.
You see, I'm not like my parents. My father, Charles Frederick Swan and my mother, Renee Elizabeth Swan are regarded as the highest of high society. They are the most respected, most powerful, wealthiest people in our society and I'm expected to continue that title on.
But I don't like it.
Ever since I was little, I've liked very different things to what my parents like.
When I was five, I was playing with my full set of Barbie dolls and I asked my mother for another set of clothes for my dolls. Agreeing to it, my mother took us straight to the most expensive toyshop in town and let me browse the Barbie's section of clothing.
I'd returned to my mother, complaining they didn't have what I needed. The shop assistant knelt down, asking what I was looking for. I tried to explain, but I didn't know how to. Instead I looked around and pointed at the girl standing outside the shop, having a cigarette (although, I didn't know what that was back then) in her rough jeans and screen printed top and said "Something like that please."
My mother was so shocked at my choice, that when we got home (without the Barbie clothes) she ordered the maid to get rid of all of them! My nanny, Matilda Brandon had asked if she could give them to her daughter Alice, saying she was the same age as me and would love them.
Matilda was only 19, having had Alice extremely young and was still living with her parents. Alice stayed with them while Matilda worked here with us. She worked from 12:00 to 7:30 most days, with Sunday's off. The pay wasn't very good, so she couldn't afford things like Barbie dolls.
I'd told her she could have the dolls straight away. My mother on the other hand had said no, as it would be like a pay rise and "not at all fair to the other servants."
Even as young as five I'd thought this was a stupid idea, so when the maid had gone to my room to gather all the dolls, I'd grabbed my favourite one and hidden it in my bed.
That night, when Matilda had come to tuck me into bed, I grabbed the Barbie and gave it to her for Alice.
"I can't take this Bella," she said.
"Why not?"
"Because your mother said I wasn't too."
"Well, I won't tell if you don't," I'd told her.
She'd grinned at me, thanked me and told me Alice would be delighted.
The Barbie I'd given her had long brown hair, just like me and was wearing a purple frilly dress and a big necklace. It was one of the few outfits I'd actually liked on my Barbies.
I'd gone to bed happy that night, happy knowing I'd made someone else feel good.
That had been the first time I'd heard of Alice Brandon. The next day I'd asked Matilda if Alice had liked it. She'd said she'd loved it. So much so, that she wanted to meet me.
It was difficult trying to get my mother to allow me to see Alice. She didn't want a poor child (as Alice was) mixing with me.
Eventually she allowed it. I'd explained to her that it was like when she met people at fancy dinners and things. That Alice would look up to me and respect me. I didn't actually want her to do that, but I knew that my mother would let me see her if I told her that.
So the day came when Alice showed up. She had short, black curly hair. Very different to my long, wavy, chestnut coloured hair.
I'd greeted her at the door, just like my mother had taught me, and led her into my room.
"Wow! You've got a big room!" she exclaimed.
"Not really. Mother's room is bigger."
"Really?" Her eyes were wide with disbelief.
I nodded.
We'd stood in an awkward silence.
"Um, do you have any toys?" Alice asked.
"Of course!"
I took her over to the toy cupboard and pulled out some toys to play with.
"Wow! You've got so many toys!"
I laughed.
It continued like that for the rest of the afternoon, both of us laughing and playing and talking with each other.
"So how many toys do you have?" I asked her.
She got a bit shy. "Um… three."
"Three? Why don't you have more?"
"Mummy can't pay for them," she told me, getting quieter still.
It was a revelation to my little world, that one sentence. I'd always been able to get what I wanted, and when I didn't it was because my mother had told me they weren't appropriate toys to play with. I'd never had any concept of money before, except that bad people had no money and good people had lots.
"Are you poor?" I'd asked her.
"Um… I don't feel poor, but I guess I am."
"But you're good! Good people aren't poor."
"Some good people are," she'd told me.
Looking at her again, I noticed she was wearing clothes I didn't recognise. Unlike my sandals, stockings, purple skirt and flowered purple top, Alice was wearing some jeans - an item of clothing that only my father ever wore - and a t-shirt with running shoes on.
My hair was pulled back from my face in fancy French braid that took an hour to do this morning. Alice's had a cheap clip in it. I didn't understand, Alice was really nice, but she didn't have very much money. It was all confusing me. Either, mother was wrong or Alice wasn't nice.
But Alice seemed nice to me.
It had been in that moment that I'd realised parents weren't always right. And that money didn't really mean anything.
I was only five, but my views on the world had already changed.
After that Alice had become a constant in my life, Matilda brought her in as much as possible. Alice grew up a normal, happy little girl.
Until Matilda died.
Matilda had been told she had cancer, and her condition had been deteriorating prior to her death. Alice knew that she had cancer, but I don't think she had quite grasped how real the situation was. She was only 9, after all.
My mother knew what it meant, and when Matilda had to go to hospital for chemo, my mother had begrudgingly allowed Alice to stay at our house during the day while her grandparents stayed with her mom at the hospital.
One day, Alice was called into the hospital to see her mom. Naturally I'd gone with her. Even if my mother didn't approve, she wouldn't stop me doing this. It meant too much to me.
"Alice," Matilda rasped. The cancer had gotten much worse in the past few days. "Alice, you must promise me something."
"Anything Mom," she'd replied, her eyes glistening.
"Promise me…promise me you and…Bella stay friends." Her breathing was really heavy and I could tell it was scaring Alice. "Promise you…stay…close."
"I promise Mom," Alice assured, a tear escaping her cheek.
"I love you Ali," whispered Matilda.
"I love you Mom." Alice was sobbing now.
Mr. and Mrs. Brandon came in to lead her out of the room.
That afternoon, Matilda Brandon was declared dead.
Alice lived with her grandparents from then and we stayed extremely close to each other, just as she'd promised.
We'd gone to different middle schools, her to the public school, ten minutes from her house. Me, to the most expensive school that took a one hour drive every morning.
It was at the end of middle school when Alice's life took another, unexpected turn.
On the way to Alice's middle school graduation, her grandparent's car crashed into another, killing them. They never saw her graduate.
Just getting over the loss of her mother, Alice now had to deal with another, brutal loss.
She got bumped from foster home to foster home, but no one really wanted a teenage girl.
I'd asked my mother if we could adopt her. She'd immediately responded with an absolute no.
When we were started high school, we talked a lot. She'd gotten herself a job and was paying for her own mobile phone plan, just so she could talk to me. We texted all the time.
My mother had bought me a blackberry when I'd gotten my phone plan. I'd bought a cover off the Internet with my credit card, so it now was yellow with exotic birds on it.
High school was hard for Alice. Being a weird, freaky kid with no parents and unusual clothes, not many people liked her.
High school for me wasn't too bad. I had a couple of friends that didn't mind hanging out with public school girl and weren't as snobby as the rest of the school. Whenever I was invited to a party, I always asked if I could bring a friend. Most of the time they said yes. If they said no, I just wouldn't go.
But as word got out about Alice and me in the high society community, my parent's reputation started slipping. Not much -they were still on top of the social ladder - but enough for them to notice. They started to try and discourage Alice and I from seeing each other. My curfew had been reduced she wasn't allowed over on school nights – something that had never happened before.
It got so bad, that one time my mother had hired someone to hack into my Facebook account and delete Alice from my friends list. Alice had called me up, very angry, asking me why I'd deleted her from my friends list. Very confused, I'd replied I hadn't. Upon checking my Facebook account I found that I had and immediately suspected my mother. She'd confirmed she had indeed deleted Alice from my friends saying she was a bad influence. We'd had a big fight and I ran away. After that she didn't try to stop us hanging out, she just disapproved of it.
It was worse to have a runaway daughter than to have a daughter the friend of an orphan. Now she claims I do it out of the goodness of my heart and that we aren't really friends, I just pity Alice.
As. If.
Okay! So kind of a weird ending, but what did you think??? Please let me know in a review! *v*v*v*v*v*
Links to Bella's Barbie and phone on my profile!
Please review! I really love them! Even if it's just a 'It's good.'
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~MissAnoni
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