Blossom opened her eyes slowly to a bright light and a happy and cheerful voice. It rang out a good morning and Blossom rubbed her eyes wondering what time it was. When her eyes focused, she found herself in the middle of a giant bed. The white satin sheets were tucked up to her chin and a white silk canopy laced the top of her bed. She looked foreword to see against the far wall (the VERY far wall) a huge hanging portrait of herself. The portrait was a myriad of beautiful brush strokes that probably took a pain-stakingly-long time to get every feature, ever shadow on her face correct. Blossom yawned.

Man, Bubbles's getting good. She thought to herself. Then she opened her eyes wider. Bubbles? Who the heck was Bubbles? And why did she suddenly think that name. A French painter that flew in especially from Paris painted her portrait. Why would she think someone with the name of Bubbles did it? Her mind was a mix; half of her found the whole room incredibly strange and wrong. Another part of her felt that this is how it had always been for as long as she could remember.

"Rise and shine, dearie." A sweet voice rang through the large room. Blossom saw an old, plump woman approach her with a smile on her face. The woman had gray hair and twinkling brown eyes. The woman had a slight Irish accent that could be heard quite clearly whenever she said "dearie."

"Coming, Nana." Blossom yawned. How did she know this woman? She didn't remember any "Nana". But wait, Nana had always been there. Her mind felt very confused as she slipped out of the satin sheets and began to crawl out of bed. She had to crawl quite a long way considering the bed was so huge. Blossom was panting by the time she reached the end. Nana smiled warmly.

"Come now, dearie." Nana picked up the tiny redhead who was still confused on what was going on. This woman was obvious a caretaker, her caretaker. And this was obviously a house, her house. Nothing in Blossom's mind was clicking. Part of her told her that this was her life while bits and pieces of old memories reverberated in her mind.

Nana brought Blossom into the bathroom and stripped off her obviously expensive nightgown. It was a light pink that reached her ankles, made of pure silk. She hung it on a golden hanger. Blossom noticed the bathroom was huge. It was a clean white color with a bathtub possibly as big as her bed! The faucets were gold and shined brilliantly. Blossom took it all in as she found the bathtub filled with fresh milk and rose petals.

"Um…" Blossom stared down at her reflection in the white creamy milk that filled the tub. She looked different somehow. Blossom knew that was her staring back, but she noticed something different. Her skin looked paler and felt a little softer, like she'd never been subjected to any hard labor and took baths in milk every day. She was still the same but…

"In the tub, dearie. It's time for your morning bath you know." Nana placed the five-year-old into the tub. Blossom fell in with a splash, droplets of milk splattering onto the floor and onto Nana. Nana chuckled. "All right now, let's get you ready for school." Nana began to wash Blossom in the tub.

At the word "school" Blossom felt both fear and happiness. She couldn't understand it, she loved going to school. Why did her heart beat with such trepidation when she heard that word?

"Um Nana…do I have to go to school today?" Blossom pleaded, her teeth chattering with the cold milk surrounding her.

"I'm afraid so, dearie. You know it took a lot for your mother to get you into that school. You'll get the best education, dear." Nana poured a bought of rose petal filled fresh milk onto Blossom's head, chilling the child further. "Let's hurry up then. We still have to get you dressed, wash your hair out, comb it, brush it, then we'll have to put on your makeup, and get you down to breakfast." Nana sighed. "The things you have to deal with at four in the morning." Blossom's eyes widened. Makeup? Four in the morning? Mother?! Something was defiantly a miss. So why was everything so right, and so wrong?



* * * *




After all of Blossom's preparations, Nana carried the poor girl down the stairs. Nana could never understand why a five-year-old girl had to wear makeup and bathe in fresh milk and rose petals. When she was a girl she played in the mud all day and took baths only twice a week! Well, whatever Mrs. Lukan wished for her daughter. Nana was just happy to have a child in the house again.

Blossom was dressed in a proper schoolgirl outfit. She wore a navy blue saliorish outfit for a quaint top. The collar had two white stripes running across it and the complimentary "Donald Duck" hat was placed delicately on her head. The shirt was double breasted with four gold buttons in the front with long sleeves. A small half of a golden heart locket hung in front of her shirt. Blossom, subconsciously tucked it into her shirt. The bottom of the "suit" was a white pleated skirt that moved back and forth as Nana walked. Blossom had never had an outfit quite like this. She looked down at the shirt to find there was a school's crest on it. A gold emblem of a crown with Latin phrases encircling the crown. She looked up to Nana. Nana's eyes sparkled brightly at her.

The two approached a beautiful dinning room. A table that stretched as long as fifty feet lay in front of her with dishes upon dishes of gorgeous food spread across the rich table. There was so much food; Blossom's mouth began to water. There were pancakes of every kind, French toast piled up in a food pyramid, a beautifully displayed waffle feast with dishes off to the side to add strawberries, blueberries, heck even gooseberries! Blossom had never seen so much food before in her life. The entrees spread on for the entire table.

"Here you go, dearie." Nana sat an awed Blossom down at the long table. The dishes sparkled in front of her, everything looking so delicious! Blossom shakily grabbed a muffin and took a nervous bite. The taste of the rich muffin exploded in her mouth. Blossom's eyes widened as possibly the best tasting food in existence played with her taste buds. This was better than candy! She took another taste, the flavor combusting again. Her mouth filled with the taste. Blossom felt in heaven.

"This is so delicious!" Blossom couldn't help but exclaimed. She had to quiet herself though. Blossom almost couldn't believe she'd spoken with her mouth full! Mother would be furious. Blossom shook her head. There was that "mother" thing again. Blossom began to eat the exquisite muffin again, but slower and calmer like the little lady she'd been raised as.

"Hello everyone!" A euphonious tone rose from somewhere on the other side of the fifty-foot long table. Blossom shuddered at that voice. Who was that? It was her mother, of course. What was wrong with her today? Blossom was a mix of emotion, she felt confused and happy but also resentment and regret. Blossom got a good look at the woman as she approached Blossom's side of the table.

The woman was tall and very thin wearing a long emerald dress. It was obviously styled in Paris. The woman carried herself with dignity and grace as if trained to walk a certain way. She had blonde hair tucked up into a neat bun on the top of her head. Her eyes were a cold blue and a diamond ring the biggest Blossom had ever seen adorned the woman's ring finger.

"Good morning, darling." Her mother crouched down next to her and gave her an intangible kiss to Blossom's cheek.

"Good morning, Mother." Blossom stated plainly. Inside she was flabbergasted yet felt resentment for the blonde woman. She didn't understand it. Blossom looked back to see her mother looking at her with a frown on her face.

"Blossom darling, you have muffin all over your face. Have I taught you anything at all?" Mrs. Lukan wiped the crumbs off of her daughter's face. "Damn it all! I've smudged your makeup." Victoria Lukan sighed, obviously upset with her child.

"I'm sorry, mother." Blossom stated a little sadly. Her heart sank as her mother scoffed.

"Whatever am I going to do with you? Hurry up and eat, but don't rush! Remember: tiny bites. A lady does NOT chomp her food." Mrs. Lukan turned sharply and approached her end of the table now speaking to her servants. "I am going to the country club this afternoon, James, and I absolutely need a new riding outfit for my riding date with Margret. I will NOT go riding on a flea-bitten mare with last year's outfit. Charles is spending his business meeting in Moscow and I will simply not allow him to get by without a few words about his merger. If he makes one more business deal I will die. Unless of course I get that diamond necklace I've been eyeing. I simply will not…" The woman continued on and on, James merely nodded in agreement as the woman paced feverishly.

Was this woman really Blossom's mother? Blossom was so confused. She'd never had a mother, yet her mind told her that this woman was her mother. She watched the woman pace making controlled hand motions while garrulously ranting about herself. The world was familiar and yet unfamiliar. The table that lay before her she had sat at a million times. She remembered when she had gotten her portrait done. The very one that hung on her bedroom wall. Blossom remembered being held in Nana's arms after a terrifying lightning storm. All these were familiar thoughts to her. But, in Blossom's mind, there was something that said, "This isn't right." But, this had been her LIFE! She'd always been Blossom Laura Lukan and nothing else. Then why did her mind tell her that was false? Blossom cleared her throat loudly.

"Mother," She began, "I am not feeling well this morning and I was hoping that I might perhaps stay home for the duration of this day." Blossom asked eloquently. Her mother turned quickly to her.

"What is wrong with you today? You get muffin on your face, you speak out of turn, and interrupt me!" Victoria placed a skinny hand to her forehead. "No Blossom. We have been over this a ludicrous amount of times. Getting you into Parvenu Crown Kindergarten was one of the most difficult things I have had to tire myself with. It is not often that they let disfigured girls into their esteemed school. Thank God we have money." Mrs. Lukan stated thoughtfully.

The words stung Blossom harshly. She knew her mother just had a way of insulting her without even realizing it. Disfigured? She questioned. Blossom looked down at her solid mitts, depressed. She wiggled her mitts back and forth and thought she might cry. No one should speak to her that way! Why she would just…would just…Blossom knew that she could do something to that horrible person. But her mind couldn't produce the real power she contained inside. As far as she knew, the most she could do was ignore the comments. Mother is right, Blossom thought in her mind; I do not look like everyone else in the world. I am so unique…that I am weird.

"Now darling do you see why you must go? If you do not it will scar the Lukan name. No one, listen darling, NO ONE in the Lukan family has ever, are you listening? No one has EVER missed a day of school. I went with the flu and a broken ankle on the day of my Horseback Riding finals, and I passed with an A+. Now if I can do that, you can go to school today. Even if you were found on our doorstep, you are still a Lukan."

That was another thing Blossom didn't like about her mother, she was always so pushy and always reminded Blossom that she wasn't a real Lukan. Hardly a day went by without Blossom being reminded that she was merely the ADOPTED daughter of Victoria Lukan. She stared down at her plate again more depressed then before.

"I am terribly sorry, Mother. I will try to better myself at refraining from such idiotic questions. Thank you Mother for making me see the erroneous reasoning in my inquiries." Blossom muttered into her chest. Victoria rolled her ice blue eyes.

"For Heaven's sake Blossom Laura Lukan! How many times must I tell you to sit up straight and NOT to speak into your chest? We Lukan's speak with pride and confidence because we are winners. You must never forget that." Mrs. Lukan nodded distinctly and began speaking to James again as if the conversation had never occurred.



* * * *




Blossom Lukan was sitting in the white limousine that carried her every day to her snobbish kindergarten. She stared out of the tinted windows to a whirlwind of trees and green grass. She felt low and sad after her chat with her mother. There was just one more event that occurred before her departure for school.

Victoria had her young daughter, Blossom, sit on a parlor stool while taking hold of Blossom's beautiful orange hair. That was one thing the Lukan's could not achieve. They're hair was always blonde and thin, while Blossom's hair was thick and a bright orange. Victoria let the soft strands slip through her fingers. This was one thing that Victoria did not leave to the professionals, styling her daughter's hair.

Mrs. Lukan ran a brush through the shiny locks of red; the hair shimmered in the light that streamed through the window. Blossom sat on the stool with perfect posture as the brush stroked its way through. She waited as she felt her mother bring the hair tight around into a kind of ponytail. But her mother would never settle for something as simple as a ponytail. Victoria began to intently style the hair into an advanced French braid and worked it into a bun. She braided and twisted and tucked the hair with such intensity it almost hurt Blossom. Finally, Mrs. Lukan placed a golden bun cage over the styled bun and paced what looked like a tiny golden scepter through the bunched hair. It kept the bun and cage in place.

"There." Her mother said finally. She held a mirror to her daughter so she could she the hairstyle. It looked elegant and refined and kept a natural beauty to it. Her tresses gleamed in the light and she admired her reflection. Her new quaff was gorgeous.

Blossom snapped herself from that thought and gently touched the bun a top her head. She felt the cool metal of the golden cage. Blossom smiled, that was her favorite part of the day, when her mother paid only attention to her and worked with her hair. Her mother always found a way to make it look elegant and beautiful. She grinned staring out the window proudly. She was a Lukan, and Lukan's always looked their best.

She thought this until the limousine came to a stop in front of Parvenu Crown Kindergarten.

"This is your stop Little Miss." Xaiver, the chauffeur smiled pleasantly at the one member of the Lukan family he didn't loathe. Blossom nodded and took a deep breath. Her heart pounded in her chest. What was she so worried about? It was just school.

Xavier opened the white limo door and Blossom stepped out frightened. Her shaky foot touched the hard sidewalk. She walked carefully away from the limo so badly not wanting to go through the large black gates that stood in front of her.

"Have a good day, Little Miss." Xavier nodded and tipped his cap. He climbed into the limousine, waved a cheerful goodbye and drove off. There left Blossom's only chance of escape. She took another deep breath trying to slow her swiftly beating heart. Blossom walked through the large, open, intricately designed gates. A large sign hung above that read "Parvenu Crown Kindergarten: Where the exceptional and privileged learn." This whole experience was still seemingly new to the pink-eyed girl. Everything still baffled her just a bit as she got used to these surroundings again. Blossom passed by the sign and saw a huge white-bricked building looming in the distance.

The building was covered in vines that curled around the bricks carefully. At the top of the building was a tall clock tower that reached so high it scraped the clouds. It was nearing 8:00. A fountain stood in front with a gorgeous garden surrounding the edges of the fountain. Blossom walked toward it carrying her school briefcase. All Parvenu students carried briefcases. There were other children heading for the innumerable stairs that led into the kindergarten that seemed more like a college. There were two giant statues of lions at the beginning of the stairs and two more at the very top before the small foyer in front of the doors.

As soon as Blossom passed the first set of marble lions, she got a horrible feeling. A sense of dread swept over her nearly pausing her in her tracks. Her legs trembled and her hands shook. Her throat went dry as she forced herself up the next step. It is just school. Blossom reminded herself, I am not going into some horrible peril. Blossom calmed herself as she reached the foyer. She spoke too soon.

"If it isn't Little Lukan." Someone said stepping out from behind the stone lion statue at the top of the steps. Blossom nearly dropped down the stairs bringing her mitts and briefcase up to her face in a weak defensive pose. A young boy probably her age stepped out in front of her. He had a snobbish tone to his voice; his hair was a dark brown and styled professionally. He had a navy blue suit on, a real three-piece suit with a white tie. He smirked devilishly.

"You mean it's the freak!" Another voice called. Blossom turned suddenly to see another boy emerge from behind the other statue. She heard laughter surround her. All the sudden, she remembered why she hated school. Everyday she was tortured by her classmates because she was so different. They all hated her for no real reason other than she was different and had no power to defend herself with (not that they or she even knew of). They picked on her and kicked dirt onto her uniform, telling her she would never make it anywhere, they even threw her homework into the mud. She would go home almost crying. But crying ruined makeup.

"Please leave me alone." Blossom whispered, purposefully speaking into her chest again. She tried to move by, but a group of her classmates stepped in front of her.

"Oh I'm sorry, Blossom," The lead boy, Herbert, grinned, "we don't mean to step on your toes!" He said blatantly making fun of the absence of those specific digits. The group burst out into laughter. Blossom clutched onto her briefcase tightly.

"There, there, Blossom, chin up!" The crowd roared with laughter. The kindergartners were surprisingly witty. Blossom just held her briefcase up as a shield against the comments. After a TERRIBLE fight with another girl when she was two, her mother had signed her up for anger management classes (yes…an anger management class for a two-year-old).

"Why are you doing this to me?" Blossom asked, her voice wavering.

"Don't be so NOSEy." A young girl blurted out. Once again the crowd guffawed. They laughed and began shouting hurtful comments, backing her up toward the marble stairs.

"Yeah, you no good FREAK!"

"Weirdo!"

"Sideshow REJECT!"

"Abomination!" The crowd of preschoolers exclaimed caught up in the moment. They crowded around her and began chanting.

"Freak! Freak! Freak!" They repeated. Blossom's eyes welled up with tears. She tried to tell them to stop but her voice choked. The kids seemed pleased with her tears. They chanted louder. "Freak! Freak! Freak!" They chanted even louder. Blossom let the tears spill over her cheeks. Herbert pushed through the throng of kindergartners.

"Take this you monstrosity!" Herbert shoved Blossom harshly. The pink-eyed girl stumbled back, her footing slipping. Her briefcase fell from her grip. She would've plummeted down the marble steps but for some reason, she merely floated for a moment in mid air. Blossom was surprised that instead of tumbling down the steps, she landed safely on the ground at the bottom of the stairs.

At first the shouts stopped. They stared down at her; she was unharmed and looked up at them. How did…how did she do that? The unanswered question rang unspoken in the air. Suddenly, something flew through the air and hit her harshly in the head. Blossom winced and watched the harmful apple roll away from her. She turned her eyes to see Herbert angrily glaring down at her. He was furious she had not fallen.

"Get outta here you FREAK!" Herbert screamed forgetting all grammar and chucking her own briefcase at her. Her valuable papers flew over the step as the briefcase hit her in the chest. The other children joined in flinging things wildly at her. Blossom began to cry and ran away, covering her teary pink eyes with her mitts. It didn't matter if they saw her cry now. It didn't matter if it ruined her makeup. She wished that she had never gone to school that day.