Author's Note: So, here's the second chapter. This chapter is basically
just focusing on Columbia's self-reinvention, and how she's beginning to
have something for Frankie. Hopefully it's interesting. R&R. I need the
critique badly.
~*~*~*~
I stand over the bathroom sink with a comb and brush, a bottle of "Shock Me Pink" hair-dye, and a pair of scissors. I take my hair out of its' usual French braid, letting it fall to my shoulders. I brush it out slowly and neatly, using the end of the comb to make an even part to the far left of my head. Smiling at the reflection I will never see again, I take the scissors and make a firm, decisive chop close to my head. I copy this all around my head until my hair is shockingly short. I take the hair I've cut off and put it in an envelope. Maybe I'll send it to a kid with cancer. Then I step into the shower with the hair-dye and massage it into my newly shorn scalp. When I step out of the shower, my hair is a really nice shade of reddish-pink. I feel bad, like a rebel even. I've been welcomed into the wonderful world of pizzazz and attitude. It's time to shine.
Step out of the bathroom. Riff-Raff, the weird guy who answered the door, spots me walking down the hallway, singing quietly to myself. I'm happier than I've been in a long time, full of optimism on the way to my bedroom to change for the party tonight. There's a party nearly every night here, it seems. He looks at me strangely; I've been locked in my room since the night I arrived, just thinking and trying to organize myself. Get rid of what needs to be gotten rid of. Disposing of my past, disposing of memories that have no place with me any more. Clearing my head, wiping the slate clean. Dr. Frank-n-Furter, the guy the house belongs to, not the biker, the other guy, has been really cordial. I never thought I'd get such an amazing chance to be around such an amazing guy. Frank is different than any other guy I've known. There's another party tonight and I'm ready to strut my stuff.
I open the door to my closet in my new room. It seems as if by some odd stroke of fate, the room was all ready, decorated in the style I love, closet full of exciting new clothes. Flipping through the outfits, I spot the perfect one. There's a top, skin-tight and sequined, and shorts, much the same way, a necklace with a pink bow-tie and a gold, sparkly overcoat with a matching top hat. I put on black tights with blue socks and my tap shoes, my precious tap shoes, and look at myself proudly. What's the last thing I need? Yes. It's wonderful. I take some black eyeliner and go crazy, fully outlining my big, black eyes in the vanity mirror next to my dresser. I'm ready. All I need is a little flamboyance and I'm all set.
Gathering courage, I walk downstairs, smiling widely at nothing. I know dinner started ten minutes ago. That's why I'm so happy. Time for the new and improved Columbia to make her grand entrance. My shoes click on the hardwood floor as I make my way to the dining room. Open the door. Heads turn. I prop one arm against the doorframe, the other on my hip, legs crossed over like a pinup girl, impossibly bodacious. "Hi, Frankie," I say melodiously. He remains calm, barely noticing me it seems. I'm a bit disenchanted, but for the first time I notice Eddie, the biker from the first night I came, sitting at the table also. "Oh, hiya, Eddie," I say, trying to keep myself from going too squeaky. He's much more appreciative. "Hey there," he says approvingly. He can't remember my name. I don't even know if he knows it's me. Just as well, as I've done a dramatic 360 since he first met me. "It's Columbia," I smile. He's stunned.
I wish Frank was a little more impressed. Really, I did this for him. He wanted a dancer, well here's a dancer if there ever was one. "Sorry I'm late," I say, looking anything but sorry as I take my place at the table next to Frank. "I just lost track of the time." I speak with a teasing note in my voice, full of innocence that's clearly pretend.
Frank doesn't seem to mind. "Magenta, bring something for Columbia here." As Magenta enters the room, she looks genuinely confused at my appearance. I can't say I blame her. Once she's served my plate, she and Riff-Raff murmur to each other in the corner of the room. I ignore them, focusing on Frank and Eddie.
"So, Columbia," Eddie says, testing out my new name. I love the way he says it. "You like it here?" I smile again. "You betcha. Frank is such a great guy." So what if I'm trying to earn points with the doctor? I hear Magenta stifle a giggle from the corner. I don't get what's so funny. I'm paying the guy a compliment.
"Well, I always have been quite a sucker for flattery," Frank says in his tricked-out baritone. "Well, Columbia," he continues. I love the way he says it even more. "I hear you're somewhat of a dancer?"
I laugh. When I was a kid, everyone thought my laugh was so cute, but when I got to be a teenager everyone thought it was annoying, so childish. That was always the way it was, with anything I did really. Talking, laughing, or simply existing. I don't think that my voice changed at all from the time I was about six to now. Minnie Mouse, they called me, so childish and pure. Well this is the end of that. I don't know what Frank thinks about my laugh. He's good at keeping from showing any emotion on his face. Eddie seems to enjoy it. "I dance a little, yeah."
"Maybe you'd like to dance. tonight?" asks Frank. "At the party. Maybe even after?" Magenta smothers another cackle and I'm still not sure why. "I'd love to dance," I say earnestly. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Magenta having to escape into the next room she's laughing so hard. What's funny? I feel like asking. I don't. "Well, then, Columbia. We'll see you tonight." Frank excuses himself from the table and makes a grand exit. Eddie tries to engage me in conversation and I reciprocate, but I'm not thinking about what he's saying at all. I feel a little bad for leading Eddie on, but it's so weird. My head is filling with thoughts. Strange thoughts, thoughts I didn't think I would ever think, ever. Especially about a guy like Frank.
~*~*~*~
I stand over the bathroom sink with a comb and brush, a bottle of "Shock Me Pink" hair-dye, and a pair of scissors. I take my hair out of its' usual French braid, letting it fall to my shoulders. I brush it out slowly and neatly, using the end of the comb to make an even part to the far left of my head. Smiling at the reflection I will never see again, I take the scissors and make a firm, decisive chop close to my head. I copy this all around my head until my hair is shockingly short. I take the hair I've cut off and put it in an envelope. Maybe I'll send it to a kid with cancer. Then I step into the shower with the hair-dye and massage it into my newly shorn scalp. When I step out of the shower, my hair is a really nice shade of reddish-pink. I feel bad, like a rebel even. I've been welcomed into the wonderful world of pizzazz and attitude. It's time to shine.
Step out of the bathroom. Riff-Raff, the weird guy who answered the door, spots me walking down the hallway, singing quietly to myself. I'm happier than I've been in a long time, full of optimism on the way to my bedroom to change for the party tonight. There's a party nearly every night here, it seems. He looks at me strangely; I've been locked in my room since the night I arrived, just thinking and trying to organize myself. Get rid of what needs to be gotten rid of. Disposing of my past, disposing of memories that have no place with me any more. Clearing my head, wiping the slate clean. Dr. Frank-n-Furter, the guy the house belongs to, not the biker, the other guy, has been really cordial. I never thought I'd get such an amazing chance to be around such an amazing guy. Frank is different than any other guy I've known. There's another party tonight and I'm ready to strut my stuff.
I open the door to my closet in my new room. It seems as if by some odd stroke of fate, the room was all ready, decorated in the style I love, closet full of exciting new clothes. Flipping through the outfits, I spot the perfect one. There's a top, skin-tight and sequined, and shorts, much the same way, a necklace with a pink bow-tie and a gold, sparkly overcoat with a matching top hat. I put on black tights with blue socks and my tap shoes, my precious tap shoes, and look at myself proudly. What's the last thing I need? Yes. It's wonderful. I take some black eyeliner and go crazy, fully outlining my big, black eyes in the vanity mirror next to my dresser. I'm ready. All I need is a little flamboyance and I'm all set.
Gathering courage, I walk downstairs, smiling widely at nothing. I know dinner started ten minutes ago. That's why I'm so happy. Time for the new and improved Columbia to make her grand entrance. My shoes click on the hardwood floor as I make my way to the dining room. Open the door. Heads turn. I prop one arm against the doorframe, the other on my hip, legs crossed over like a pinup girl, impossibly bodacious. "Hi, Frankie," I say melodiously. He remains calm, barely noticing me it seems. I'm a bit disenchanted, but for the first time I notice Eddie, the biker from the first night I came, sitting at the table also. "Oh, hiya, Eddie," I say, trying to keep myself from going too squeaky. He's much more appreciative. "Hey there," he says approvingly. He can't remember my name. I don't even know if he knows it's me. Just as well, as I've done a dramatic 360 since he first met me. "It's Columbia," I smile. He's stunned.
I wish Frank was a little more impressed. Really, I did this for him. He wanted a dancer, well here's a dancer if there ever was one. "Sorry I'm late," I say, looking anything but sorry as I take my place at the table next to Frank. "I just lost track of the time." I speak with a teasing note in my voice, full of innocence that's clearly pretend.
Frank doesn't seem to mind. "Magenta, bring something for Columbia here." As Magenta enters the room, she looks genuinely confused at my appearance. I can't say I blame her. Once she's served my plate, she and Riff-Raff murmur to each other in the corner of the room. I ignore them, focusing on Frank and Eddie.
"So, Columbia," Eddie says, testing out my new name. I love the way he says it. "You like it here?" I smile again. "You betcha. Frank is such a great guy." So what if I'm trying to earn points with the doctor? I hear Magenta stifle a giggle from the corner. I don't get what's so funny. I'm paying the guy a compliment.
"Well, I always have been quite a sucker for flattery," Frank says in his tricked-out baritone. "Well, Columbia," he continues. I love the way he says it even more. "I hear you're somewhat of a dancer?"
I laugh. When I was a kid, everyone thought my laugh was so cute, but when I got to be a teenager everyone thought it was annoying, so childish. That was always the way it was, with anything I did really. Talking, laughing, or simply existing. I don't think that my voice changed at all from the time I was about six to now. Minnie Mouse, they called me, so childish and pure. Well this is the end of that. I don't know what Frank thinks about my laugh. He's good at keeping from showing any emotion on his face. Eddie seems to enjoy it. "I dance a little, yeah."
"Maybe you'd like to dance. tonight?" asks Frank. "At the party. Maybe even after?" Magenta smothers another cackle and I'm still not sure why. "I'd love to dance," I say earnestly. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Magenta having to escape into the next room she's laughing so hard. What's funny? I feel like asking. I don't. "Well, then, Columbia. We'll see you tonight." Frank excuses himself from the table and makes a grand exit. Eddie tries to engage me in conversation and I reciprocate, but I'm not thinking about what he's saying at all. I feel a little bad for leading Eddie on, but it's so weird. My head is filling with thoughts. Strange thoughts, thoughts I didn't think I would ever think, ever. Especially about a guy like Frank.