Chapter VII
"Hello Chelsea," I greeted.
She looked at me up and down before asking, "Are you going to wear that?"
I studied her outfit and compared it to mines. I am wearing a maid outfit but Chelsea on the other hand, is wearing tight fitted vinyl pants and a blue short sleeve, turtle neck jacket that was made out of cotton and elastane. The jacket's end ended right about her navel. It was zipped up all the way. Her hair was clipped half up and half down and the ends of her light brown hair were curled. And the thing that made her look even more beautiful was the makeup she wore on her eyes, lips, and cheeks. But no matter what, she looked like a fake doll.
"Well, we have no time," she quickly said. "Let's go!"
She grabbed my wrist and sped walked to the dining hall. There was a group of girls crowding around the end of the dinner table. Chelsea let go of my wrist and walked to the core of the crowd.
"Emily, there you are!" Anya exclaimed. "You must be starving."
Anya came up to me and but her hands lightly on my shoulders from behind. She directed me into another dining hall twice as big as the one I was in before. The dining table was two times longer than the other one. But this table was filled with elderly maids and from young to old butlers. Even though the table was large, it still looked a bit cramped.
Everyone conversed with one another and it looked like they were having fun.
"Emily!" a young man shouted.
I looked up and saw Kenny waving madly. I looked at Anya and she pushed me gently, "Go on."
I walked to Kenny and studied his happy state.
"C'mon! Sit! Sit! I saved a spot for you!" he shouted happily while patting a seat right next to him.
I sat beside him and watched him attack my plate with food.
"Here! Have some mashed potatoes," he slammed the spoon with food on my plate, "and steak, and salad and!-"
"Enough already, Kenny!" a man laughed. "If you give her any more then she might just explode from too much food!"
The people around us laughed.
"But, the food just tastes so good!" he sang.
I took a bite out of the food and it was absolutely delicious. And never in my life have I tasted anything like this. I controlled myself from engulfing the food in just mere seconds. It was what I was taught to do. Unlike my brother who dropped everything he learned at that place.
The tension in the room was loose, relaxed, and easy going. Everyone made jokes one after another. I hate it. I cannot stand it. How can I hate such a happy atmosphere? I cannot say. Is it because inside, I yearn to laugh and have fun with the others?
I thought for a second a realized that I don't have a true feeling for this happy atmosphere. I never found true happiness and I do not plan on doing so now. I truly feel empty inside.
"Hey! So what do ya think about the sluts in the other room?" one man asked.
That one question started a controversy.
"They are just trying to impress Damien."
"What is the point? After all, he is a.-"
"Ugh. I cannot stand seeing all that nasty cleavage!"
"They are such an eyesore! Those girls do not have respect for themselves!"
"I see all the lust in their eyes. They just want to get in his pants so they can become a member of the Davenport family."
"That is so true! Especially that maid of his. . . "
"STOP IT!" two people yelled.
They were both middle aged. One was a male, and the other a female. The man then stated, "Our little Chelsea is not like that."
Ah, they are a couple. His wife started crying, "It's true! It's true!"
"Shut it! We know you guys are in on the plan!" a lady shouted from a far.
The wife gasped as her husband tried to console her.
"I believe I am finished," I told Kenny and took my plate to wash in the kitchen.
"Alright. And sis? Loosen up a bit! Smile. I miss it," he told me. "How else did I put up with the torture at Gladco?"
I walked off to the only exit in the room which led to the main dining hall. I looked at the group of girls squealing and laughing. None of them were wearing their maid uniforms and their clothes did indeed show a lot of cleavage. As I walked passed them, I noticed that in the middle of the group was Prince Damien. He looked straight at me with a hateful glare and then the girls started to speak.
"Isn't she the new girl?"
"Yuck, she looks disgusting!"
"Seriously! Like, look at her face."
The group of girls laughed.
"C'mon guys! Stop it! She is my roommate," Chelsea begged.
"She is right. Come on girls, drop this subject, please?" Prince Damien asked.
The girls started to sigh or squeal even more. I looked at his food that looked different from what we servants ate. The meat was roasted to a golden brown colour. It was cut up into smaller, bite sized pieces. One piece was burnt though. But as I got closer to that end of the table, I noticed that that piece of meat was not burnt. The black coat on the meat was actually a bar code and on the bottom of that read . . . 52540.
In other words, John.
