Just some rambling from Petunia's point of view. She's annoyed at Lily for being head girl, but hey, what can you expect?
Petunia sighed angrily –
actually more of a huff than a sigh – and looked out her bedroom window to the
garden in full bloom with narrowed watery green eyes. It had happened again.
It being her sister, Lily. Petunia silently cursed the daylilies and the roses,
the orchids and the chrysanthemums, tears of bitter rage gathering behind her
long, mascara-clumped eyelashes. Why did she have to always get the
attention? Her parents thought Lily was a special and a talented girl, but
Petunia knew that she saw her younger sister as what she really was: a freak.
Well, it wasn't as if she
herself was unnoticed, she mused. Her achievements were always recognized and
rewarded with the same vigor as her sisters'. It was just . . .Lily shouldn't
be regarded with the same degree of love that she got. Lily was unnatural.
And now, after years in that . . .that school of hers, she had been given yet
another position of honor. What sort of title was 'head girl' anyway? A load of
crap, if you wanted her humble opinion.
Petunia heard a muffled thud
and then peals of laughter emanating from downstairs. They were all celebrating
with cake and a film, without her. Well, as usual she had been asked to join
them, but of course she had declined! Whenever her sister was home, she always
did her best to avoid her. Petunia felt as if her sister were a leper or had
some ungodly plague that might be contagious. Whenever Lily flashed her a smile
or asked her to come with her to the cinema, Petunia made absolutely sure to
regard her with the same degree of contempt she would something unpleasantly
squishy under her shoe. She knew she was better, more human, than Lily.
Petunia impetuously leapt
off of her bed and ran to the ornate floor-length mirror that stood propped
against a wall of her room. She stripped off her blouse and admired herself.
She was prettier than drab little Lily, too! She had a slender waist and high,
firm breasts, shapely legs and an overall petite figure. She turned her head
from side to side as she critiqued her flawless complexion and her tiny
features. She brushed her straight blonde hair out of her eyes. Her eyes. There
Lily always attracted attention. Her stupid, deviant eyes, such a brilliant
green that they took away from all the rest of her flaws. When she smiled that
pretty little smile of hers, those eyes lit up, captivating all around her. No
one ever noticed that Lily was thicker in the waist than she was, or had a
rounder bottom. Petunia looked at her own, pale green-blue eyes, the color of
stagnant water. She furrowed her neatly groomed brows and stretched out her
long (Lily sometimes teased 'giraffe-like') neck. Vernon would be by soon. He
appreciated her, and he understood her sister's oddity.
She pulled back on her
frilly blouse and smoothed her skirt as she sat again on her pink-quilted bed.
Nearly everything in her room was pink, as, Petunia fervently believed, was
only proper for a young girl. She plucked at her ruffly pale pink curtains,
looking around at her carnation-hued wallpaper with the flowery border. She
reached over to her vanity table (pink, of course) and with her long fingers
daintily picked up a tube of (pink) lipstick. Deftly applying it, she glanced
at the clock; Vernon should be there in fifteen minutes if he was prompt, which
he always was. Lily's favorite color was blue. Not only a boy's color, but a
deep, dark, blacky-blue. Preferably, Petunia shivered, with silver stars, like
the mythical cloak of (another shiver racked her body) Merlin.
Hastily pushing any thoughts
of Lily out of her mind, she concentrated on happier things, Like Vernon, her
steady boyfriend. He was the head of the rugby team at Smeltings, which was
only proper. What cared if he made poor grades? She dreamily thought of his
muscular shoulders and neck. His tall stature, and the thin mustache he was
trying to grow. He carried himself like a man should, shoulders back, chest
forward, black eyes narrow. He would own a company one day, and be a powerful
businessman, a proper man, who wore suits and ties to work everyday and carried
a large leather briefcase. She, heaven will it, would still be with him, then,
waiting for him at their cozy little home, caring for a bouncing baby boy.
Vernon had always wanted a boy. A fine big boy, to carry on the rugby
tradition. Petunia leaned back against her pillows. What a perfect boyfriend.
Lily also had a boyfriend.
Petunia sat up as though she
had been shocked. Where had that thought come from? But now the seed was
planted in her mind, thoughts along that tangent kept flashing through her
brain like lightning. He was from her school, barely human. He was
medium height and much scrawnier than her Vernon. But then, she thought
proudly, nearly everyone was. He had horrible, messy black hair that always
seemed to be flopping in his large brown eyes. He even had a nasty, common
name. George or John, James, yes, James, that was it. Nasty, common,
monosyllabic name. She had only met him once, but once was one too many times
for her. His ears stuck out, too. And he had glasses. Probably got stuffed in
his locker every day. Or broom cupboards (shudder) or whatever they had there.
A high, shrieky cackle
floated up the stairs. "I'll get you my pretty," shouted the same voice, "And
your little dog too!" Petunia buried her head under her pillow. Lily loved to
watch 'The Wizard of Oz'. She loved to comment to her parents about how her
complexion was going a bit green nowadays (Petunia clenched her teeth) or how
if only Dorothy had known how to perform a (Petunia let out a muffled groan)
flame-retardant charm. This was all, as always, much to the delight of their
parents. Daisy and William Evans, for all they were kind, were blind to what
Petunia knew was plain as day.
As another cackle
reverberated though her head, she let out a scream, muffled by her pillow. She
threw off the pillow and staled over to the door. Poking her head out she
bellowed, "Turn that damn thing down, will you?!"
"Anything for you, Pet,
sweetling!" Lily's sweet, musical voice held a hint of sarcasm. It always did.
"Don't call me 'Pet'!"
Petunia screamed, hurting her throat. She turned back into her room and slammed
the door shut with a smash that knocked over a picture that had been resting on
her nightstand. Muttering curses under her breath, she bent down to pick up the
photograph in its little heart shaped frame. Turning it over in her hands, she
saw a black and white photo of two young girls playing by the seaside. They
were standing by a sandcastle nearly as large as them, holding hands, and
beaming with pride at their creation. One of the little girls (perhaps four?)
was thin as a stick with light blond hair sticking out in odd directions, a
little purple bathing suit covering her gaunt body. The other, slightly
younger, was a pudgy little girl with curly red ringlets and the sweetest smile
you'd ever see.
Petunia
and Lily, ages three and four, playing together at the seaside. Read the back of the photo,
when Petunia removed it from the frame.
Petunia looked at the little
girls and their smiles, and then at each chubby hand gripping the other as
though it would never let go.
She gently placed the empty
frame back on the bedside table and took the picture in both of her hands.
She ripped it in two and
dropped it carelessly in the wastebasket.
What did you think? Please R/R!