Two

                The dumpy girl entered and stood there awkwardly staring at her feet.

                “Strip,” I told her, wondering exactly how I was supposed to transform this ugly-duckling into one of the group. She was so clueless, standing there with big grey cow-eyes, a picture of modest horror plastered across her oozing, pimpled face. God, she was even too meek to own up to her modesty and instead had to throw me a helpless look. Yeah, she was going to go places.

                “Don’t give me that look. We’re both girls,” I persisted. I mean, seriously? As if I wanted to look at that hideous body? Um, no thanks. But she reluctantly obeyed, leaving her ill-fitting clothes in a pile on the floor. Real classy, right? I couldn’t figure out which was worse; seeing her doughy, freakishly pale body donning only old, saggy undergarments, or seeing her wear such hideous clothing.

                “Is your neck always in a rash?” I asked.

                “Sometimes. When it was wants to, I guess. I don’t know, I gave up on it a long time ago,” she mumbled.

                “Well, that’s obvious. But it can be fixed, probably it’s just your diet. You can put your clothes back on. Where’s my pen? I need to take notes for this…” I replied, busily searching around and selecting my favorite writing utensil �" a blue pen with a fuzzy-thing on top.

                “This seems a little drastic for some silly ball four months away,” she commented, more to herself than me.

                I stared hard at her. ‘Silly little ball?’ Had I heard her correctly? It wasn’t just a ball, it was so much more than that! That night, that ball, determined so much of the future, would permanently affect a person for the rest of his/her life! Was she really that thick?

                Or maybe she was seriously THAT level of clueless. Oh, god, what had I gotten myself into? But Tro must not have told her… Lord knew she lived under a rock to begin with, and it would be like Tro not to tell her. Well, if he wasn’t going to break the news to her, it certainly wasn’t my place. Not yet anyway.

                “Babe, what you don’t know won’t hurt you,” I said in explanation. Now it was her turn to stare at me, utterly bewildered. I almost pitied this poor girl, this social outcast who resembled a cow, whose skin was at war with her, and who certainly didn’t stand a change of ever being liked except if Divine Providence itself interceded on her behalf.

                S**t, maybe I was the tool Divine Providence has selected. Maybe the Lord really did know how horrid this poor creature was.

                “Do you think you’re beautiful?” I asked.

                “Well, I see beauty as an internal thing, not a superficial one, so therefore I do,” she said, tossing her head proudly. I almost wanted to laugh at her at first, but then I pitied her enough to almost shed a tear. I had been like her once. She was so innocent, so naïve.

                “Pity the world’s a superficial place,” I replied, hating my dedication to reality, but quite aware that in the long run this was the way to go, “and therefore your opinion is null. I mean, it’s good that you don’t feel like crap about yourself. But that’s not how everyone else feels, and I’ve been coerced into, um, fixing that. What’s on the outside is more important than the inside for the big-picture because the average person on the sidewalk doesn’t see your heart, he or she sees what shoes you’re wearing.”

                “What do I care what the average person thinks? I’ll never see them again.”

                “True. But you want to be liked, I can see it in your eyes you do. So quit being stupid and just play the world’s game. Acceptance is easy when you conform. Sad but true.”

                “That’s a Metallica song!”

                “Ew! Anyway, take your hair down.” It was atrocious. I felt so terrible for being honest, but if I had to get her where Tro expected me to, it was a necessary evil. It’s easy to transform someone who wants to change. It’s nearly impossible to brainwash someone who’s resistant. Not that this was brainwashing, it was bursting bubbles of fantasy and pulling people down to reality and therefore making them successful members of society �" and the specific group to which I pledged allegiance.

                “I’m going to have to cut this,” I diagnosed, trying not to gawk at strands of hair that had not one but four split ends, “now, do you want the full diagnosis of treatments all at once, or as we go?”

Author's Note

this chapter is written from Eliza's perspective, not Zelda's, so don't get confused (:

Reviews

[SoulCrusader (Yas)]

Loving the 2 viewpoints kinda approach.

Thinking what goes on inside 2 girls heads, better education for me. lol

[Vanessa Rico]

I knew right away this was Eliza's perspective so that there was no confusion! I LOVED this! I take back my earlier comment about this being a guy transforms girl and then falls in love with her...there seems to be something more to the story! I am intrigued to find out! Off to chapter 3!!!

[Sel Whiteley]

You've really captured that rationalised creulty. The change of viewpoint broadens the story as well and makes it more realistic.

[Dark Angel ~]

People are so mean!!! :(

Good chapter though. At least now I can't totally hate Eliza. :)