Hello again! Thanks for all the follows and reviews. Here is another Chapter
Monday is almost here and my weekend has gone worse than I thought possible, which is saying something. On Friday I met with Magnus to discuss my wardrobe for the next week and today he is going to show me what he picked out. I used to find everything for myself, but it was such a drag, and Magnus has a great sense of style, so I've trusted him with my special week wardrobe for the past two years.
For a while I wanted to stop, but Simon, Magnus, and my Mom practically forced me into it, telling me that it was about time I learned to "come out of my shell." They said it was good for me, and arguing would have made it worse, so I gave in.
This year is going to be especially tiresome because I have to stay at my Dad's house the entire week while my Mom works on saving her home from the bank. It sucks not being able to help her, but she doesn't want to involve me in that sort of thing. She says I should take the time to be a teenager, whatever that means. I wish I could tell her that doing nothing makes me feel worse, but I know that would make her sad, so I let it go, or at least I try to.
My lyft pulls up to Magnus's apartment complex. I have to pick up next week's clothes and pay him back for the shopping. I hurry out of the car, then rush up to Magnus's apartment.
As I step through the door, I am momentarily blinded by stacks of sparkly, glittery, clothing. This is clearly too many clothes for only one week. I face palm myself, and call "Magnus!"
"Yes, my darling?" He replies as he emerges from an especially large stack of glittery clothing behind me, causing me to jump.
"Jeez, you scared me," I complain to him. He just silently laughs and makes his way over to properly greet me. "Why do you have so many clothes?" I ask him.
"Well you see, I was finding it difficult to choose this year's theme, so I just did what any sane person would do. I bought all three options of course," he smiles at me.
"What? Magnus, the normal thing to do would be to pick one or buy some of everything. I can't afford all this. You have to return It," I say as a wave of irritation rushes over me.
Magnus knows how much I hate doing all this and now he is intentionally making it harder on me. I am already feeling on edge over my Mom possibly losing our home and all the gossip I'll have to deal with next week, so Magnus's actions strike a nerve. I dig under a pile of glitter and find a pillow. Magnus looks at my frustrated face with amusement and that is the final straw. I press the pillow to my face and shout a long stream of profanities. I keep going until I run out of words and air. I remove the pillow from my face gasping.
"Have you calmed down now?" Magnus asks. I nod once. That level of emotional venting is exhausting, so I motion for him to continue talking. "The money is not a problem for me. You know my business is doing quite well recently, and I want my friend to be happy. Second of all, you could never mix and match these themes; they would clash majorly. I thought I would let you pick your favorite theme out of the three. The rest I can give to charity, and I know how much you love charity. And lastly, I just wanted to let you know that I am consistently in awe of your ability to swear. It is impressive for someone as young as yourself to have such a colorful vocabulary and I applaud your usage, even if it makes you resemble a two-year old throwing a tantrum." I stand there searching for something to say and he seems proud to have dumbfounded me. Magnus only graduated last year, but he already has a booming online retail business, and I think the success has gone to his head.
"Well show me the fashion themes, then," I finally say in a monotone voice. I am starting to feel like I was a teensy bit extra earlier. My words seem to excite Magnus despite the lack of emotion in my tone. He skips over to three large piles of clothes and begins separating them, so I can see them all at the same time.
All the clothes are similar to what the girls at my school wear (crop tops, skinny jeans, short shorts, etc.). I continue scanning the variety of outfits strewn about the room and see what Magnus meant by themes. One pile is made up of lots of tough looking outfits, like leather jackets, tight fitting tank tops and skinny jeans. Another pile is made up of glittering material that looks more like princess dresses than the princess costumes I wore as a kid. I gag internally.
They both seem like fine options until I rest my eyes on the last set of clothes. I silently scold myself for being stupid enough to even consider the other outfits. This pile is made up of earthy colors, with different shades of greens and blues. I quickly take them all in. I choose my favorites of the batch, like an outfit of maroon colored skinny jeans, along with a vintage looking green button up T-shirt that I know will hang loose on my frame. The clothes remind me of the outfits archaeologists wear in the movies. Just with fewer pockets and slightly skankier than normal clothes because Magnus' chose them out and he likes to take a 'less is more' approach to fashion. I pick up a few other outfits to look at, but then I see it.
It stands out like a gem in a coal mine and is clearly different from the other clothes in the bunch. The dress is fancier than anything I have ever seen. Its dark green satin, and I can imagine exactly how it will feel sliding against my skin. It is fairly simple, but also elegant and beautiful. I can't move my eyes away. Magnus smiles, "I got it for your dance this Friday. I had a feeling you would like it."
"Like it? Magnus it's … it's me" I whisper smiling. He seems genuinely surprised, which makes sense since I usually hate stylish clothes, but this dress is different. This whole wardrobe is different. "These are brilliant, I love them all," I say holding up more of the nature toned clothing.
"Pile number three it is then." he says excitedly, "It will be nice not to have to fight you on every outfit this week."
I give him a look, so he knows I didn't miss his subtle comment on my attitude and then give him a quick uncharacteristic hug. "Thanks for doing this for me," I say, "I know I can be a handful sometimes."
Magnus shakes his head and give me an affectionate look before saying, "Of course I am helping you. You're great, even if you are a menace to society. Now go home and get some beauty sleep. I want you here bright and early tomorrow, so I can do your makeup"
"Magnus, It is barely six," I say teasingly.
Magnus' tone gets cold, "Did I sound like I was joking? because I assure you I was not. When I say go get your beauty sleep I mean go get your beauty sleep. Now get out of my apartment. I'll see you tomorrow." He starts shuffling me out the door and the next thing I know I am on my way home.
Magnus was right. I don't feel like fighting him this week. The clothes actually fit my style albeit they are slightly more revealing than I am usually comfortable with. Maybe this week won't be as bad as all the others. I guess we will just have to wait and see.
I am sitting in my room trying to create a realistic drawing of the dress Magnus bought me. My past attempts have failed, but I'm not giving up. I look up when I hear two sets of footsteps coming up the stairs. Why would Dad bring a business partner by the house on a weekend?
I peer out of my room and see Father speaking to a tall handsome boy around my age. They both have similar smirks on their faces, clearly trying to mask whatever true emotions they are currently feeling. I clear my throat and step out into the hall. Their heads turn towards me. "Who is this?" I ask, putting on the false smile my Father insists I wear whenever I am near people from his work.
"Clarissa this is Sebastian," Father says unenthusiastically, "Maybe we should go discuss this downstairs."
Usually my Father is direct in the things he says to me, so going downstairs is the first warning sign. The boy, Sebastian, remains silent and nods slightly in my Father's direction. They lead the way down the stairs and into our living room. We take our seats and I am a bit shocked by how comfortable Sebastian is making himself. He looks one step away from kicking his shoes off and sprawling out on the couch.
My father clears his throat and begins, "Well you see Clary, you know the circumstances of your Mother and my divorce." I nod slowly not seeing where this could possibly be going other than stirring up my not-so-repressed anger. He continues, "As you know, I was seeing someone for a while, someone who was not your mother, but what you may not know is that during that time, the woman I was seeing got pregnant."
Images I don't want flash through my mind and I cringe. My Father continues anyway, "This was before you were even born, when your Mother and I had already begun drifting apart and I was seeing this other woman seriously. After a while I broke it off and she went and had her baby alone. That boy was Sebastian."
I suddenly whip my head around to face the light-haired boy. I can't help the revulsion and grotesque thoughts that are harassing my mind, from crossing my face when I look at the two men across from me. Hurriedly, Father continues before I can say anything, "Sebastian's mother was recently killed in a car accident, so he will be staying here full time," Father finishes.
Sebastian doesn't seem the slightest bit affected by Father's words. Even the part about his mother dying. He seems absolutely heartless and while I know I should be feeling pity, all I feel is a growing distrust of my new housemate.
A heavy silence hangs in the air like fog, and I can tell both of them are waiting for me to say something. "That is unexpected," I start, gritting my teeth to keep from seething at my Father. I turn to Sebastian and say as sincerely as I can muster, "I am sorry to hear about your mother, but I don't know you and I am not looking for a new brother. I'll see you around." I start to stand. A smile creeps onto Sebastian's face and I feel frozen under his penetrating gaze. I remove my eyes from his smothering hold and start to leave.
"See you later little sis," he says before I can turn my back. His creepy smile grows wider and I can feel goosebumps running down my spine. He looks like Father when he is angry: calm and collected, but with a fire burning in the back of his eyes. Suddenly I wonder if Sebastian is always angry. The thought chills me and I shiver.
"Are you cold?" he asks in a fake concerned voice.
"No, just tired. Goodnight," I reply quickly and finally leave the room and run up the stairs.
I see the time. It is eleven and I have to be up at five thirty to get Magnus to do my makeup. After screaming into my pillow for the second time today, I lay down and fall into a restless sleep. I dream about this upcoming week. It is already turning out terrible before it has even begun.
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