pretty pearl
— a gift fic for SecretFruits
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The freak is leaning over the sink, carefully washing dishes. He's a little too short, so she's given him a footstool. The too-big shirt is riddled with small tears, and his hands are red from the dish-soap and the near-boiling water. As she passes him the final dish — a bowl — he looks up at her with his pretty green eyes. Feeling unsettled, Petunia purses her lips. "Hurry up, boy," she says, and throws him the kitchen towel so he can dry off. "Dudley's at his friend's house and wants some candy and food. We're going to buy some and drop it off." She sniffs. "Piers' mother is awful — she's starving my Diddydums."
The boy grumbles something and she snaps out, "What was that?"
"Nothing," he says, hopping off the footstool and following her out of the kitchen.
"It had better have been nothing."
She opens the car-door for him because she doesn't want him touching it and he climbs in carefully. Satisfied, she sits in the driver's seat and starts the car.
It's Sunday, so there aren't many cars on the road, and she hums oh-so-softly to the radio. It's a good day. Vernon's out with work friends and her son is socializing like the popular boy he is, and the freak is quiet and the music is enjoyable.
She parks close to the grocery store's entrance so she doesn't have to walk far and yells at the freak to get a shopping basket. He does so quickly, short legs hurrying after her.
"Some dessert, first, I should think," she says to herself. Her Diddy is such a hard-working boy. He deserves a treat.
She's perusing the candy aisle — the freak standing next to her — when she spots Amelia, an old work friend from when Petunia had a clerical job. They've kept in touch, over the years.
Smiling, and quickly patting at her hair to make sure it's still perfect, she simpers, "Amelia, hello."
The brunette looks away from the shelf. "Petunia," she says in delight. "It's so wonderful to see you." She abandons her trolley and approaches.
Amelia spots the boy. Her smile widens.
"Hello, ma'am," the freak says, and then he looks at the ground.
Good, Petunia thinks viciously. Freaks shouldn't look at normal people.
"Petunia, darling, is this Dudley?" She's speaking so fast that Petunia can't break in. "He's just as handsome as you told me! And so polite," the woman coos, her fingers ghosting over her pearl necklace. The pearls have that soft almost-yellow-almost-pink color that speaks of refinement and expense. "Oh, shy, too," she says, and to Petunia's horror continues speaking, "He has your mother's eyes. What a sweet boy."
Petunia hesitates visibly. She looks at the freak's red face and Amelia's adoring one and the gorgeous pearl necklace. "Yes," she hears herself saying, "this is Dudley. He's my very special boy. Excuse me, Amelia, darling," she says, and takes hold of the freak's forearm and nearly drags him away. Forget the food. They're leaving right now.
As she opens his car-door, he looks up at her. His face is open and shocked and he looks … well … happy. His eyes are shining prettily.
"Get in, freak," she spits out.
He calms somewhat but he's still smiling slightly.
Annoyed and unsettled, she turns the radio's volume on higher than usual and drives five miles per hour faster than normal.
Still, she doesn't yell at him.
His delight is under her skin.
She doesn't know why she's not angrier.
