Guys I'm so so so sorry for not updating. I have a lot on my plate it feels like and everyday I swear that I am going to write another chap and I never do!
Not to get ur hopes up but this is at some SUUUUPER eventful or amazingly written chapter...
So anyways here are the makeovers... :))
ALSO I AM INTRODUCING SOME NEW CHARACTERS!!
Lady Kristen Chenaworth
After the plane ride we saw even MORE well wishers at the airport. The whole thing is completely insane. We were immediately ushered into a limousine. The other girls, except for my plane, were no where in sight. I had tried to strike up conversations with the others on my plane and eventually I gave up when i got lame responses like "oh I don't know" and it seemed that all anyone said was "ohmigod I'm so nervous".
Not to be cocky, but I wasn't nervous. I actually couldn't wait.
The ride from the airport to the palace we weren't allowed to roll down the windows of the car to embrace the admirers that held up signs and screamed our names as we passed. Lady Jane, a Five, quietly looked at her hands. Jessa and Julia both didn't meet my gaze and instead held their glassy eyes on the window. Great.
A few of the signs had my name on them, not as many as Snow Kensington or Blaise or Ashlyn though. Damn.
I crack my knuckles in order to occupy myself somehow, it's a nasty habit and my mother always nags that I am going to get arthritis at 18 if i don't stop. A few times I catch Jane looking at me, perplexed. When I try to give her a half smile she turns away as if she was never looking at me.
I frown to myself as I turn back to the window. Everyone seemed so much more standoffish. I've never had trouble making friends. In all honesty, I am a rather likable person. Parents trust me, I'm a model student for the most part, and I make friends wherever I go. But so far the only adults I have met haven't trusted me with a single thing, not even the ability to follow simple rules like taking vitamins and the other Selected I have met want nothing to do with me. This is going to be a lot harder then I thought.
Miserably, I lean against the window wondering how else I could possibly be more babied.
And with that, almost instantly I catch a glimpse of my name on a sign. Excitedly, I let out a squeal and pop up from my slouch and press my face so close to the glass my breath fogs it. My name was on a sign! How cool is that?! The girl holding it was no more then 7 and I wave my hand ecstatically hoping she can see that it's me through the blacked out windows.
Someone behind me clears their throat and when I peel away from the window I can tell that the representative, Isabel, isn't pleased with my unladylike excitement. One of her overplucked blond eyebrows is arched in disappointment and silently I slouch back into my seat as she glares through me.
"So girls," The palace representative begins with her gray eyes still on me, reading from an oh-so-professional fat white packet, "When we get to the palace you will immediately be escorted inside, your tour of the grounds will be later in the process. Do exactly as you are instructed. I will turn you over to Natasha when we enter, but I will see you here and there as I am working on handling press and organizing interviews!" Her voice goes up at the end, nearly cracking, in an attempt to look somewhat excited for us. Gee thanks.
I'd seen pictures of the palace before from the internet. Actually, in the seventh grade I did a report on the palace. I have always been fascinated by castles, especially really old ones like they have in Swendway and England.
Isabel says nothing else, leaving us all to remain in our own silence. The crowds thin out the closer we get to the palace, less and less signs. The city has faded into a long driveway behind massive gates.
A small tollbooth like thing stops us before we enter the property gates, and unfortunately from the angle I can't stick my head out and see the palace. The window at the end of the car rolls down and a mans head pokes in, takes a look around, and then pops back out. Within seconds the car behind to roll again.
I pick at the fabric of my slacks, the same outfit everyone is wearing. The only thing that separates us is our shoes. All the other girls from my plane are wearing some sort of kitten heels or total high heels. Suddenly I feel out of place in my gold flats, like I'm a child compared to the rest of these future princesses.
The property that the palace is on is almost like a vineyard in looks, tons of beautiful cherry blossom trees and other assorted floral trees and bushes. It's beautiful, but I wonder how much more of this I have to look at before we can actually go inside. Supposedly there are another set of gates before we actually can see the palace itself.
Then the car turns, and I can see it.
In recent years the palace has been reconstructed due to previous rebel attacks. The once stucco exterior walls are now gray stone, which I personally think makes it look more regal. The iron gates that lead inside are more massive and before I know it my face is inches from the window once more. As we pass through the second gates I can't even hear Isabel saying "Lady Kristen!", I'm too in awe. Guards give us curt nods as the limousine pulls around the massive fountain in the center of a circular driveway. The greenest grass I have ever seen in my life lines the yard leading up to the arches wooden doors that are swung wide open and lined with armed guards in their best uniforms.
An anxious adrenaline rush causes my heart rate to pick up. WE ARE SO CLOSE!
I can say truly that at this moment, I want nothing more then to fling open the door and run around on the grass and twirl until I fall over, chest heaving from laughing too hard. It is one of those urges that you know you can't even do but a part of you wants too. Almost how when you are on the top floor of a building looking down and you get a crazy urge to jump.
The limo pulls to stop with a soft jerk and the whole time while Isabel slides to the door she is staring me down.
To avoid her gaze I look down at my hands in my lap, and only then do I realize that they are shaking.
I hear a soft click and then a rush of hot summer air as the door swings open. "Jessa, Jane, please exit first and follow Mr Van Trappen inside," Isabel gives the two girls a nod and they silently leave the car without so much as saying "thank you" or "good bye". Isabel says something to Julia that I can't hear and then Julia is gone with the other two J's. After each girl exits I slide down another few feet until I am right outside of the door.
"Hold on," Isabel says to me before I can exit, her eyes serious and mouth set in a firm line, "Don't you think of doing anything stupid, Miss Kristen. Don't do anything rash."
Wait what? My eyebrows unintentionally squinch together and my smile goes slack.
"Im not sure what you are trying to tell me," I say slowly and as evenly as I can force myself, completely caught of guard.
She lets out a harsh exhale, "What I'm trying to say, Lady Kristen, is that if you play to stay longer than dinner tonight you must control your impulses."
"And what's that supposed to mean?" I retort, a bite coming into my tone.
Her eyes narrow at me, "It means that I know you aren't used to being an outsider, or even second best. Please don't do anything impulsive. Girls in this competition aren't going to instantly love you. And just from what I've seen in this car, I can tell it's going to drive you crazy."
Isabel doesn't say anything else, she just swings her skinny legs out of the car and disappears into the sea of cameras.
I can't believe it, but a knot has formed in my throat, the kind of feeling I get right before I cry when your voice is strained and breathing takes a little too much effort.
Is she trying to scare me into behaving? I am in NO way impulsive. Right? Okay maybe I am a little impulsive... What would Isabel know? How would she know that about me? We were in the car for maybe 45 minutes, what did I do to clue her in?
I'm Kristen and I don't get nervous. I am confident. I am ready.
"Lady Kristen! You are holding us up!" Isabel says in an irritated tone as she pokes her head back in the car, "Let's get a move on!"
When her head backs out I can hear her say to a guard, "You'll have to excuse her, I'm afraid she is a bit slow if you know what I mean." I hear a polite laugh back, the kind that you do because you are too uncomfortable to do anything else.
I let out one last irritated groan and swing one foot out of the car, almost hoping that I accidentally kick Isabel. But when I go to jump out, I lift my head up too soon and smack my forehead on the doorway.
My mouth is frozen open in an effort to yell a swear word but I can't make myself utter a single sound.
I can see spots in front of my eyes and everything seems to be tilting sideways. But then I realize not everything is falling, just I am.
My eyes blink slowly open, my head pounding like there are period cramps in my brain. "Shh shh don't move sweets, I'm almost done." Normally I would've sat straight up and in a paranoid state have tried to figure out what was going on. But I surprisingly don't. My face is too numb for my lips to form words.
"Phew. All done, only 5 stitches hun. Can you see me?" A tanned face hovers above me, and whoever they are is wearing a really nice perfume that smells like a sugary autumn candle. "Blink twice if you can see me."
Obediently I blink twice and the tanned woman let's out a sigh. Her hands cup my elbows as she pulls me into a sitting position and hands me a glass of cold water.
"You hit yourself pretty good there," The lady, who I have decided is a nurse, says in a soft tone, "You are going to be a bit late to makeovers, most likely with planes 3&4. Do you remember what plane you were on?"
"One", I tell her slowly as I take the cup of water and try hard not to drop it, my clouded eyes focusing on her shape.
"Now, what is your name?"
"Kristen Chenaworth."
"Good, good, now Kristen, what is your birthday?"
"July 2nd."
"How many fingers am I holding up?"
The effort causes me to squint until my eyes are barely open.
"Sorry ma'am, it's too blurry", I admit.
"Okay that's what I thought, tilt your head back, I'm going to give you some eye drops to help with that."
While she is giving me the drops she talks to me in attempt to keep me awake. "You have a history of head injuries don't you? Played lacrosse right?"
"I was a goalie," I say with a swallow as the second drop goes in my left eye.
"Right, right, and didn't you play ice hockey as well?" Her tone is clearly distracted.
"Yes, I had to give it up after my last concussion."
"Ahh, I see! And we are done! Kristen could you please blink for me a few times?" I blink and the excess drops leave my eyes in the form of tears.
Lady Brooklyn
No one expected a girl to enter the makeover room in a wheelchair. I can say that much. I was sitting on the white leather coach, waiting my turn patiently while flipping through a magazine that was currently devoted to the Selection. This particular article was talking about the Prince and what he was looking for in a wife. The poor boy has everything on display.
I can't bring myself to look at the girl as she is rolled near me into the waiting area. Why didn't any of the magazines mention that there was a paralyzed girl?!
A stout Hispanic woman sets the girl in between the coach across from me and a chair then whispers something to her and leaves.
The girl is pretty, her brown hair that had been brushed straight was now slowly curling into loose tendrils. She had nice eyebrows I noticed, and amber colored eyes. The only thing that was truly out of place was were a series of black stitches near her hairline, barely visible but still there.
She catches me studying her and gives me a smile before I could glance away. Unsure what else to do, I just give her a smile back and pick up the magazine again. I didn't want to be rude, but at the same time she didn't seem very nice. Lady Kristen, as her name tag read, looks incredibly intimidating.
The room that the makeovers are in is loud and smells like hairspray and floral perfume. Constant yells about stations and camera flashes make it too hard to focus on my magazine. Mirrors line the walls, in front of them each is big cushioned salon chair filled with a selected girl and a quirky looking style assistant behind her. Ever chair is taken, and when I came with my plane, plane 3, I was the only one that there wasn't an open seat for. So I was just told to wait here.
"What plane were you on?" Kristen asks when she catches my eyes flitting around the room.
"Three," I say quietly. A puzzled look crosses her face, clearly indicating she can't hear me.
"I was on plane three," I say louder as I pick myself up and plop myself on the couch next to her wheelchair.
Kristen nods, "I was plane one." But if she was on plane one she would be in makeovers right now, wouldn't she?
"Wait, so why aren't you done yet?" I ask, trying to not break the eye contact that she'd been steadily holding with me.
She lets out a short laugh, like a small burst of air, then gestures to her hairline where the stitches are. "Because I nearly gave myself a concussion getting out of the car."
"Is that what the-" But I catch myself before I add "wheelchair is for".
"Yep," Kristen confirms, not even noticing that I broke off the sentence, "they didn't want me to walk around much today. I have a long history with concussions actually. The nurse that you saw said I had to come to the makeovers today because this room is regularly some sort of a conference meeting room."
"Ahh, I gotcha. Did you play sports back home?" She seems fairly athletic, even at her size which I am guessing is around 5'4". It seemed like an easy question to ask.
"Yeah actually I did! I was a lacrosse goalie and I played ice hockey too. But I had to give them up when I started college, and because I couldn't risk another injury." Her face falls, and for a moment I want nothing more then to give her a hug.
"Hey what about you?" Kristen perks up, turning her attention back to me as if she wasn't just upset.
"Oh," I blush, "Well I'm Brooklyn-"
" I know that much!" She interjects, "You have a name tag on!"
"Okay okay!" I say with a giggle on the edge of my voice, "I'm not very interesting honestly."
"That's bull," Kristen objects, pulling her long fingers through her hair, "Everyone has a story." She crosses her arms and leans back in her wheelchair casually, as if she has all the time in the world to talk to me.
"Lady Kristen?" A voice from behind me asks in a high pitch voice, one which sounds oddly anxious.
Kristen and I both turn around at the same time to find a short, ginger make up artist holding a flimsy post it note with Kristen's name undoubtedly scrawled on it. "Your chair is ready for you, if you would please proceed to station 8, I'm sure Raina will be ready in just a mome-"
"Actually," Kristen interjects, "Lady Brooklyn has been waiting longer she can go first."
"Miss," the ginger says, her uneven bangs coming untucked from behind her pierced ears, "I'm afraid that isn't what I've been instructed."
"No really, I have to go back and get an ice pack anyways, truthfully I'm feeling a bit dizzy. But I'm sure Lady Brooklyn would love to go as soon as possible." Kristen flashes me a quick grin when she looks back down at her agenda again. I'm surprised at how quickly the lie rolls off of her tongue, a deadly trait. The red head mumbles something about checking with her supervisor and scurries away, leaving just the two of us again on the couch.
"You didn't have to-" I begin.
"It's no big deal, you have been waiting longer anyways," She shrugs as if she could dish out favors to me all day. I open my mouth to say something else, maybe to say "thank you" or to ask to catch up later, to be honest I'm not sure what I wanted to say. Before I can say anything though, the same high pitch voice is calling me to station 8.
GUYS IM SO FREAKIN SORRY FOR NO UPDATES! the last chapter got like 3 reviews and idk I kinda fell of the motivation track... BUF NOW IM BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER!
Lady Kristen is highly sensitive to head injuries, wonder where that will have an effect on our story MUAHAHA
EXPECT ANOTHER MAKEOVER CHAPTER!
I started to add another POV and then I decided that if I did I would never upload this!
I SWEAR ALL OF MY FUTURE CHAPTERS WILL BE BETTER AND ON TIME!
love you
13th17 xxoo
Ps: pretty please review ;)
