Chapter 2

         
                                                          CHAPTER TWO

          The next day, Molly gained consciousness. She felt herself laying on her bouncy mattress, the soft covers beneath her. Without opening her eyes, she could see the bright sun burning in the deep blue sky outside her window. She could feel sweet warmth fill her face. She could also feel her pants bunching up underneath her, until she couldn't stand it anymore and had to open her eyes and stand up. The second her feat touched the floor, a soft burning sensation traveled up her legs, torso, arms, and face until all the blood inside her was settled. She looked down and saw her pants button had disappeared.
          "What the-" Moly asked herself as she inspected her pants. "Oh." Molly exclaimed, and spun her pants so that they were facing the right direction. Without thinking, she pulled off her clothes, and changed into a pair of tight yellow skinny jeans, a white crop top, and pushed in her dangly silver earrings that reminded her so much of the beach. As she passed her dresser on her way to the hall, she saw the clock.
                                                                   8:38
          "I'm late!" Molly cried, and ran down the hall into the bathroom, slipping on her way. She grabbed onto the mirror to steady herself, looked up and saw a blotchy red face looking back at her. Her hair looked like a rat's nest, her face was colorless and drab, and she had two minutes to get ready, eat breakfast and walk the 7 blocks to school.
          "Hurry up!" Molly rushed herself and reached across the porcelain sink and opened the cabinet above it. Inside were piles of powder splattered brushes by the dozens. There had to be at least one hundred different palates of eyes shadow, blush, lip gloss, and whatever else she thought she needed to look good. Soon, her face was colored in all the right places and she thought she might just be able to pull it off. So, she pushed through her hair with a thick brush, then patted down the bumps with her hands. She filled the cabinet with her brushes and make up palettes and swung the mirror shut. She quickly looked at her bland reflection in the smudged mirror, leaning in closer to inspect the uneven lines of her eyebrows. She was so close, her reflection filled the mirror, so she didn't notice the shadow growing larger and larger in the hall behind her. A cold fingered hand rested on her shoulder, making Molly jump.
          "Mom!"
          "Molly. What are you doing?" Madge slid her hand down Molly's arm, causing sharp goosebumps to form.
          Suddenly, light dawned on Molly and she remembered the conversation of the night before. Her life had changed. She no longer was able to see her friends. She had to stay home all day, being taught by her terrible mother.
          "I was, um, getting ready for homeschool." Molly pushed out a smile on her face, but that the was exact opposite of what she felt inside.
           A smile steadily grew on Madge's face, but her's was genuine. "Molly, you didn't forget about our new deal, did you?"
          Deal? Molly thought. No deal was made between her and her mother. As she remembered it, she was told to never see talk to her friends again, never go outside, and become the laughing stock of the whole world, but of course, she would just have to forget all about that wouldn't she. Who cares about my feelings and friends? The only thing that matters is the rules my mother comes up with. The only thing I ever have to do is listen to her, act like her, do whatever she tells me, and still, stay popular with the people at school. Molly pushed aside the thousand of snide remarks about her mother, and said, "No mother."
          "You haven't? Madge mocked Molly, and put her hands on her hips, towered over Molly's head, opened her eyes wide, and her mouth pursed, in a you better not be lying to me kind of way.
          "No, I haven't." Molly stood up straighter and looked her mother straight into the black holes she called eyes.
          "Alright then." Madge straightened up too. She noticed Molly's strong gaze into her eyes, so she stared her down until she had nothing to do but move her gaze down to Madge's nose. "Then, you will change out of those clothes and into the clothes i've laid out for you on your desk. You'll wash off that -" Madge paused for a second, then said, " maquillage off, and come downstairs for breakfast." Seeming proud of her herself, Madge stepped out of the bathroom, and walked away down the hall.
          Molly rolled her eyes, and turned back to the mirror. She gazed into her own eyes. They were dark just like her mother's. They were small and sharp, just like her mother's. Her hair was straight and dark brown, her lips pale and thin, just like her mother's. Why did they have to be so similar? Why? Once the blush and tan left her face, she was back to her pale, normal self. All that trying to stand out and be someone was now being thrown out the door. Soon, she was walking out the bathroom door and back into her room. The last time she had her outfit picked out by her mother was about 6 years ago when she was 7. Even then, she thought she was a bit too old for her mother picking out the outfits she should wear. As she walked into her room, she slipped out of her short baggy shirt, and threw it on the carpeted floor by her dresser. She then sat down on her bed and wrestled with her pants until they fell past her feet and down on the floor beneath her. Molly stood up, wrapping her arms around herself, then running across the room to shut the door and lock it, when she realized, the silver lock on her door was missing. She was so used to locking her door everyday. How could she have noticed it was gone? With distressed tears forming in her eyes, she walked to her desk and stared at the drab clothes her mother had lain out for her. Looks like she's been out shopping.
          On the desk lay a pale pink dress with white buttons down the front. How did she miss this atrocity before? Molly slowly walked towards the dress and picked it up by the two shoulders. She carried it with her to the mirror on the wall, where she hung the dress up over her thin body. There were frills along the chest, neck, and shoulders. There was no arguing with her mother. She would have to go along with what she said. But what if she told her to jump off a bridge? She was sure that wouldn't happen, but the idea never left her mind. She would have to learn to stand up for herself to somebody who won't listen.
          After the dress was on, she felt shivers run down her bare legs and arms. She hadn't worn a dress in ages. Dresses were a big change from skinny jeans, but I guess she'll just have to get used to it. Her bent over to get a good long look at her legs. They sure were something to be proud of. Molly looked at them and smiled. After years of dieting, she was finally a size 3. She no longer had to feel self conscious of her fat thighs when she sat down. Now, she could wear skinny jeans and feel proud. The pink dress went down past her square knees and stopped in the middle of her shins, which she was quite thankful of. She couldn't allow anyone to see her knees after the fall in the park last year leaving her with an inch long scar smack dab in the middle of her left knee. The ruffles along the neck, shoulders and chest could drive a person insane. No matter how many times Molly tried to flatten them down, they would pop back up. Soon, she gave up with the ruffles, slipped on a white pair of socks, and slinked down the stairs and into the living room, where she saw her mother sitting on the couch flipping through an old book in her hands. A recurrent sight of which Molly would soon be used to.