Okay, so I think this is easier to read in center format. Please tell me if it's not. Thank you for being so patient with me and my constant putting off of things :) I hope you enjoy the chapter and thanks all for the reviews so far. I hope the next chapter will be out soon.

Also quicky note, I get the impression that some people believe that this is a Twilight fanfiction, which I don't personally get since my summary doesn't lean that way at all, but...that is for those who choose not to read. Anyway, I just wanted to address that.

Also I'm glad to not be in the 98%

Don't worry if you don't get that.

(Just me being silly and sticking it the man)

But if you do get that...come, join me. 2% rocks.

My eldest sister Celia grimaced at my reflection in her mirror. She was standing pin straight, elegant neck inclined forward, while a seamstress stabbed pins at her gown. It had been a lovely gown in a beautiful emerald green, but Celia had had the dress hemmed, laced, and cut so many times, it bore a resemblance to a very fat Christmas tree, struggling under ornaments.

I had said something to that effect.

"I'd tell you to hold your tongue, but goodness knows, no one would ever tell you to speak again." She fanned her hands down her sides, taking a good long look at her silhouette. "You must understand Bella," Her sneer brought chills to me. "I must look my best for the party to impress the ladies. Winnie is too young for such things and you," Celia's eyes met my own in the mirror. "It doesn't matter what you wear since you will be off in the corner playing the damsel."

No amount of wit or courage could undo her words. It was true. I wasn't allowed to attend the party, at least not fully. What would become of me, if someone discovered the truth? It wouldn't do, so my parents had begun telling everyone that I am in a frail condition and not one to socialize openly.

It truly was a shame, because I swear I could out charm anyone. Celia always bragged about talking to Him or talking to Her and all the noble members of society. She was congratulated on her pleasant voice and her skill at the piano. No one knew that the sickly girl in the corner could out sing, out talk, or out play the girl in the spotlight any day.

Which was precisely why Celia relished such events. Being the oldest, besides from Leonard, you'd expect her to have set the standard for Winnie and myself. She very well could have had she not grown up so condescending and cruel. Of course Celia thought she was better than others, because I suppose you could say she was.

She was tall, lithe, and graceful with ivory skin and a natural flush to her cheeks. Golden blonde curls raced down her back, fighting one another for the attention of the sun's rays to glint upon them. Her balance was nearly flawless, her manners impeccable, her dancing graceful, her laugh tinkling, and her looks stunning. If only she could be humble about them all.

There was a soft tapping at the door. My younger sister Winnie was waiting to come in. Celia motioned the made to do it. Despite her hatred towards me, Celia never seemed to order me around.

"Celia, I knew you were in here. I saw Maryellen bringing bolts of red cloth upstairs. Are you altering your dress again?"

Winnie's smile came to a halt as she took in Celia's face. I always thought it must be so strange for Winnie, to look at Celia and see herself, although Winnie, like me had amber eyes rather than Celia's green ones.

"I certainly didn't order red cloth. What were you thinking Winnie? That I would stand to be clothed in Christmas colors?" Celia turned back towards the mirror, fixing her gaze on me like it was somehow my fault.

Ashamed, Winnie blushed. "No, I just thought since it wasn't mine and-," She looked at me and couldn't go on. I knew her logic. If it wasn't hers and it wasn't Celia's, it couldn't be mine. No one would have me wearing red at the party. Of course, I wasn't wearing anything at all, since no one had been around to talk to me about it, not even my own mother.

The worst part of my curse was that I knew I'm not hopeless. I've been trained in horseback riding, studies, etiquette, dancing, music, singing and the works. My training has even extended into cooking, not that my family knew. What would they think if the soup they had loved last week was done by me rather than the servants? Yet, I was sheltered away.

"Miss Isabella, Miss Isabella," Maryellen poked her head into the room breathless and in a fluster. Her red cheeks were even redder from her excursion and her hair was falling from its pins. "Your mother wants a word with you…alone. If you'd just follow me miss."

I followed her out the door anxiety filling through my veins. Had I done something wrong? Had she figured out I was cooking? Did she know it was me who broke the fence, sneaking in after a late swim? Perhaps Celia told her of our latest argument. Or maybe, just maybe she was telling me that I wasn't allowed at the party at all.

"Maryellen?"

"Yes, miss?"

"Did my mother tell you what she wanted with me?"

"Oh no miss, but I'm sure it's important. She had a tailor and two seamstresses with her and just a minute or so ago she had me fetch her a bolt of beautiful red cloth."

My heart seemed to drop. It was for her, of course. Mother was the hostess of the ball, after all. She simply wanted my opinion. Winnie was too shy to tell her about clothes and Celia was too eager to please. It wasn't the first time I was brought for such uses.

I probably wouldn't get a dress made for this ball. No one had ever been near enough to me to make out details. Certainly, I could re use them. It's not like I had grown any.

I was still short and small. Not even to the shoulders of Leonard. The only thing that seemed to grow was my hair. It was tightly curled and dark almost black brown like Leonard and my father's was. Against my ivory skin, it made me look paler and sicker. Better at pretending to be frail. I wondered when they'd just kill me.

It wasn't something I thought of often, but from time to time the notion swooped upon me. When would the day come, when they'd just fake my death and take me away from the world all together? Surely, sixteen years of caution and tedious procedures would wear away at their sanity? What would the occasion be like? Would it be a slow building up, them telling the world how much closer I was to death's doorstep? Or would I be gone in one night? Killed by some medical oddity.

Should the choice rest with me; I'd have them pretend to send me away from New York or Newport to England. Then I could really go down South or to France and live comfortably. Perhaps my curse didn't apply when I was ordered at in a foreign tongue?

"Miss? Miss?" Maryellen looked up at me as if I were convulsing or some such thing. "We're here." I smiled at her and as she walked down the hall, I envied her. If she were to run off, I'm sure no one would miss her.