Revamped!

[Don't worry, I am picking up the pace to this story. This chapter is short because it is sort of like a lead-up chapter]. [2019: I actually cut out a lot of the filler arcs and extended the more important ones coming soon. Thank god that Courtney's arc didn't really need that much fixing].

[Old Chapter Title - Silent Colours]

Courtney Brown: Princess Cut

"Splendid," Mrs. Brown states. She dabs her mouth with her napkin and beams at Landon and his mom.

"Thank you," Landon's mom replies, flattered as if she made this spaghetti dish all by herself and not her personal chef. Maybe we should give her credit for having good taste in chefs.

Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Brown, and my three foster brothers finally came home from wherever the hell they went. I was kind of glad for that. If they gave me some stuff to do, then I would be too busy and distracted to actually think about what Britney has told me about herself and my mother. Those things still baffle me. Presently, it's only me and Mrs. Brown having lunch with Landon and his mom. I'm sitting with one leg crossed over the other one under the table while twirling the spaghetti on my plate with my fork. Landon and I have occasionally made eye contact and shared a grin, only when our moms would talk about the most boring of topics like cotton over lace or universities.

"Don't you think so, Courtney?" Mrs. Brown turns to me, giving me a face that says not to be impolite to the people whose food we're eating.

"Absolutely splendid," I reply like the model foster daughter she wants.

I actually have no idea what she was asking. She looks at me and I wink at her as I take a sip of my ice cold water. I hope I'm making her proud.

As they continue to chatter about older women things, Landon and I communicate with each other by doing silent things like passing the salad back and forth and lightly kicking each other. The women don't get suspicious when I've been asking for the salt shaker about thirty times and continuously giving him the salad dressing all in a span of five minutes.

"Oh," Landon's mom says, "have you heard about the upcoming gala?"

"We're planning to go to that," Mrs. Brown replies.

"We are?" I ask.

Mrs. Brown looks at me and I smile awkwardly. I think I just embarrassed her.

"Courtney, I told you about it yesterday," she scolds. Whoops. I might have not been listening. "Sometimes, I think your head is in the clouds."

I smile to myself. I kind of like my head being in the clouds. It's better than being stuck here in this boring life.

"In fact, we're going to get your dress today," she finishes.

"Isn't the gala in, like, a month?" I question.

"Yes, but we have to be prepared."

"Of course we do..." I mutter. Oh god, time to get my head back in the clouds. Something tells me that I don't want to remember this train wreck.

-o-

I am regretting waking up this morning. I thought that today would be good because of lunch with Landon (and even if his mom made it or not, the spaghetti was delicious), but this fancy dress store is making my head spin and the spaghetti will come back up sooner or later. I should start listening more.

"Look at these dresses, Courtney," Mrs. Brown says happily, "aren't they beautiful?"

I nod my head, pretending to look cheerful. This room alone is filled with racks of clothes. Dresses, jewelry, and piles of shoe boxes, you name it and it's probably here in every colour and shade possible. Mrs. Brown picks a gown that is long and puffy, and very, very white. I want to glare at her but the whiteness of the dress is blinding my eyes and I have to squint in order to protect myself. I want a black dress but Mrs. Brown says that I have to wear a colour. I mean, at least give me a green dress to match my eyes. Although there is probably a reason my dress is white. Maybe it's because my hair is black and my head is always in the clouds. Gotta love that contrast.

I smile. "I love it."

"Wait till you put it on," Mrs. Brown says. "You will look beautiful in it."

I guess that I will love it. The dress looks simple and feels like cotton candy. I'm glad the texture is soft and comfortable. I felt a dress back at the entrance and it was so rough and coarse just like sandpaper. I think I broke a nail back there. It looked to be made of too much material and was a mess of zippers and fringe but at least it matches my personality which was probably the goal.

"Are you aware that this is a princess cut?" Mrs. Brown asks.

"I am now," I reply. In reality, I am no princess so I shouldn't really be wearing a princess cut, but who am I to argue?