3

"Did you have a nice time?" Her mother's voice cut through the silence of young Clarisse trying to sneak back into her house. She had just opened the door, only to be caught.

"I did." Clarisse dropped her eyes, not wanting to make contact with her mother's icy glare.

"Did he kiss you." It was not a question, for she already knew the answer.

"I do not wish to discuss personal matters with you, mother."

"A diplomatic answer. Polite but vague." Her mother stood, and walked across the room, physically lifting Clarisse's chin roughly and staring her daughter in the eye. "I forbid you to see him again." She almost smiled, clearly satisfied with her decision.

"What?!" Clarisse's eyes widened with disbelief. How could this woman who had given birth to her, nursed her when she was sick, and claimed to love her be so cruel?

"You heard me. You have a date tomorrow. With your fiancé. I suggest you be ready." Anna Dessen's voice was unmelodic, and uncaring. She never considered her daughter's feelings, basically assuming she didn't have any. For she had lost hers years ago.

"Mother..." Her voice was pleading, begging her mother to understand just how much she wanted to see Joseph again.

"Go to bed, Clarisse." She turned and walked slowly toward the kitchen

"You are going back on your word." It took courage for Clarisse to stand up to her mother, the woman who had ultimate control over her life.

"Hmm...I find it amusing that you think you can talk to me like that." Her hand flew sharply into the side of her daughter's face. The force was such a blow, it knocked the debutante to the ground, tears forming in her eyes. She knew if she cried it would only make things worse. Nothing could save her when her mother got like this. "Now you will go to bed, and you will never see this Joseph character again."

"Yes, mother." She sniffed, running up the stairs. The door to her room provided a sanctuary, a place to be herself, by herself. She ran through the open door, shutting it behind her, and threw herself violently on the bed, sobbing. Her body shook the bed as it trembled from her sobs. She should have known it wouldn't last. That she wouldn't really be free. Now she had to date the man she loathed so completely. Okay, so she hadn't met him but twice, but she loathed the fact that he was taking away her freedom. It was now a million times more horrible that she had met Joe. Joseph opened up a whole new world, a world of love and lust that was waiting at her ready fingertips. She knew it wouldn't happen. Maybe if she just ruined her life, she could get out of it. If only she didn't have such a guilty conscience.

When Clarisse was born she was thrust into this lifestyle. Her entire life had been about preparing her for this moment. Private schools, tutors and so-called lessons from royalty and older debutantes were normal for Clarisse from the day she turned three. She never had a moment to herself, and was always depressed. There is nothing worse than a teenager that can not go out with her friends. Well, there is if she doesn't have friends.

Clarisse's friend was her diary. She wrote in it every day, religiously. That was, until her mother found it and burned it in the fire. It was not appropriate for a queen-in-training to think 'like that' she once said, after reading that Clarisse had a crush on one of her escorts for the debutante ball. The next day she had met Rupert. Only to figure that there was no attraction. How could she have a crush on a man so many years older than herself? She knew immediately that she could never love him, and felt doomed from the very start. Clarisse had come home and cried on her bed, much as she was doing now. Except today, she was violent. Things were flying to the wall, breaking and shattering into a million pieces. When she heard her mother's angry footsteps on the hall stairs, she crawled into bed, still sobbing, and pretended to be asleep. Her mother was very easy to trick, and though the bed was shaking, she simply turned off the light and shut the door with a scoff.

"Madam, it is time to wake up." The maid of the house shook the young debutante lightly. "Today's a big day. You meetin' 'im for a date and all. It's all so excitin'!" She babbled on, while Clarisse rolled over and pulled the covers over her head. The last thing she wanted to do was to actually 'date' this man. Sure, Rupert was relativly nice, he was rich, handsome, funny. But the free-spirit in her told her no. The duty she felt inside for Genovia told her otherwise.

"Edna?" Clarisse half wined, sitting up.

"Yes, Madam?"

"I don't want to marry a prince, I want to be with Joseph."

"'hoo is Joseph?" Suddenly intrigued, Edna looked up from her dusting.

"The most wonderful man in the world."

"Oh 'e's 'ardly that! Not even a man I s'pose"

"No, but he's good enough for me. And I think. . . I think he really, truly, likes me."

"Ah. Well, that's all good for a while, but you need a companion, someone to talk to."

"Joseph could be all that."

"Get ready, Madam, or your mother'll 'ave my 'ed!" With these helpful words of wisdom, Clarisse's only friend exited the room, her mother replacing the empty space she had left.

"Darling! Paul is here! He is ready to do your hair for your date!"

"Hmm."

"Be polite." Her mother's voice was cheery, almost frighteningly so. It always was when Paul was around. Anna Dessen had a crush on him. This made number twelve of possible husband's for this time around. Mrs. Dessen had married first for love, second for children (Hence Clarisse), third for money and forth for spite. Now a divorcee of four times, she was going in for the kill on number five. Clarisse had thought number five would be for fame or perhaps just for the hell of it.

She sat quietly in her chair, waiting for Paul to come up the stairs. He would do whatever her mother told him, and Clarisse would have no say in what her appearance was. The frilly dress, the pristine make-up, the elaborate hair and the expensive shoes had all been preselected, much to her dismay. As the hairbrush and Paul's hands flew around her head, thoughts were carried from ear to ear that she hoped to god her mother could not read.

'I must see him one more time, I can't leave it like this. He'll worry about me. I need to see him. But what if that only makes it worse? But then he'll think I'm ignoring him and that's not good. Ow, that hurt. Joseph has to know! What if. . .No! Impossible, I couldn't. Sneak out? Me? Yes, it's so improbable it just may work!' As she made diabolical plans in her head, she felt Paul tugging harshly at her mass of long blonde hair. The pain pulled her out of her thoughts. Her mother looked on from the corner, directing a cold glare at Clarisse, and a warm fuzzy smile at Paul. It was almost as if she knew what Clarisse was thinking. There was no way she could. Clarisse had never disobeyed her before, which is why she was so frightened to do so now.

"Paul. You are a miracle worker." Her mother

"I only do what they tells me to!" He gushed, grabbing Anna's hand and kissing it softly, lingering longer than he needed to. It made Clarisse sick to see her mother like this. The LAST thing she needed was another step-father.