Morning
Essa pov
I can't believe it! The boy was there, at the dinner party, sitting with some of Mrs. Townsend's snotty friends. He looked bored and annoyed at being there, but he was sweet, and nice when he talked to me. Asking my name, and telling me I was far too pretty to be a server. I know he was probably just being nice, and if I was pretty it was the dress, but blushed just the same, and it made me want to know him better even more than before.
I also can't believe Bobby bothered to talk to me, and civilly at that, without being rude and obnoxious. But what does it matter? I talked to the boy! His name is Draven, he told me, and I can't get him out of my head.
Now I'm back in my house, in the bathroom, washing away my makeup and brushing my teeth. My dress is gone, hung up in the closet, traded for my pajama shorts and tank-top. I'm studying my reflection in the mirror, my freshly washed face and frizzy hair, and wonder what Draven sees when he looks at me. Am I pretty?
My eyes are nothing like the rest of my family. They all have brilliant blue eyes, so bright and beautiful, but mine are a dark brown, the color or mud, and I've always wished for their blue eyes instead. My sister, Cass, has blonde hair like me, but much more controlled, almost straight, and I've envied her since we were little. She has no trouble getting attention from boys, and she's only fourteen. When I was fourteen I was always overlooked by boys. Though, I'm not girly like her. I guess guys like girly-girls more than tomboys, but I don't know.
I smile into the mirror, hoping it'll make me look prettier. Maybe it's just because I'm me, and I don't find myself attractive at all, since I've always read that people are better looking than they think. Shaking my head I flick the light off and head to the bedroom I share with Cass. She's in bed with a book, the lamp between our beds glowing faintly. "You took your time in there," she teases, glancing up from her paperback.
I avoid her gaze, hoping to hide my blush. "No longer than usual. I was just brushing my teeth." She doesn't seem bothered, too engrossed in her story. "Good book?" I ask, hoping to change the subject.
She nods vaguely. "Awesome." I crawl into bed and pull the covers up over me to block the light from the lamp. I close my eyes, seeing Draven's face and my stomach flips. Even though he's not here, I blush uncontrollably, and wish I could sneak out to see him, but he probably doesn't even remember talking to me today. He probably gets fawned over by girls all the time, and I'm just another unremarkable girl in his eyes.
I push the thought away so I can just think good things about Draven. Our conversation, the expression in his eyes when he spoke to me, the dazzling blue, the way he seemed to watch me work, even after I'd left his table. Maybe it was all my imagination, but for now I'd like to comfort myself thinking it was real. I drift off with these thoughts still in my mind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When I wake up I dress without much care, a plain pair of shorts and a gray t-shirt with a white skull on it. I pull my hair back in a side braid and head down to breakfast. The smell of bacon hits me in the face as I enter the kitchen where Mom is cooking on the stovetop. "Morning, Essalinda," she smiles when she sees me. She refuses to use pet names for me and Cass, and never uses our nicknames.
"Want some breakfast, Princess?" Dad offers, holding out a plate of bacon and eggs. Dad on the other hand uses pet names a lot, mostly because he knows how we hate our names. I accept the plate and sit down at the table.
Mom pulls the last piece of bacon out of the pan and pushes another plate in front of Cass. "Here you go," she says cheerily. As she sits down to her own breakfast, she turns to me. "Essalinda, I wanted to ask you, would you mind going up to Bobby's room to clean this morning? It's a little dusty, and
Mrs. Townsend wants it spotless for her son."
Heaving a sigh, I gnaw a piece of bacon in frustration. "Fine, but don't expect me to like it," I say, what good mood I had gone.
Mom smiles brightly. "I don't except you to like it; I expect you to be civil and nice to Bobby."
I roll my eyes. "The way he always was to me?" Dad looks at me over his newspaper, raising one eyebrow at me. He opens his mouth to respond, but I cut him off. "Don't worry, I'll be nice. I'll be sickening freaking sweet." I shove the last but of bacon into my mouth and crunch loudly to show my annoyance as I stand and take my plate to the sink. "I'm going now, to get it over with. Coming, Cass?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "I have to help clean up from last night's party; Mel wanted me first thing," she tells me, taking her plate to the sink.
Sighing, I nod and head outside, Mom calling a cheery goodbye after me. I storm across the lawn to the mansion, and walk inside without knocking. I've been working here so long no one even cares if I knock. Scowling, I walk past the other help without a word and stomp upstairs to Bobby's room. Coming to his bedroom door, I do knock before entering, in case he's hanging around naked or something. I hear a faint, "Come in," and then I push the door open and walk in.
It never fails to amaze me when I enter his room. Almost as big as my entire house, and full of gadgets we can't afford like his laptop, his flatscreen, his iPhone. And then there's his bed, bigger than needed for one person, bigger then five people would need. Bobby's in his bed, the covers wrinkled, and his hair a ruffled mess. He blinks at me sleepily, obviously only jut waking up, and I quickly look away when I discover he's shirtless. At least he's wearing pajama pants.
He looks surprised to see me, wide-eyed. "Essa?" he asks, and I nod silently. "What are you doing here?"
Rolling my eyes, I say, "I was sent here to clean. Apparently your mom found a speck of dust. Don't worry; I'll be in and out in ten minutes and then you can go back to bed."
"No, no!" he exclaims, and it's my turn to be surprised. He's wrestling out of bed, getting caught in the bed sheets and nearly falling on the floor. I stifle a laugh as he disentangles himself, but I have to look away again when I see his bare chest. "I wanted to talk to you since I saw you last night."
Once again, I'm surprised. "Talk about what? We barely know each other." I turn away and grab a dust mop to start wiping down the top of a dresser.
"That's exactly it!" he cries, pulling a shirt on over his head. "We've grown up together, but I don't know anything about you. I've spent my whole life being mean to you, and I'm finally seeing that's not right. All this money means nothing. It doesn't make us different. We're the same. We should put our differences aside and be friends!"
I'm shocked to hear him say this, the first nice-ish thing I've ever heard him say to me, but I'm skeptical. "Yeah, right. This money is all the difference. I'm not like you. I don't order people around because I know what it's like. I don't throw money around on stupid things I don't need. We're nothing alike."
He looks disappointed. "No, I didn't mean we didn't have any differences, but we're both human beings. I'm trying to apologize here! Can't you accept that?"
I laugh humorlessly. "Frankly, no. You made me miserable as a kid, and I'm not ready to forgive that, no matter how juvenile it sounds."
He looks sullen. "I guess I can understand that, but please, I want to change things. I want to be nice. I want to understand you."
"Why?" I scoff. "You never did before. You never cared, and you're not just going to change in the blink of an eye. What's so different now?"
"I didn't just change in the blink of an eye," he corrects me. "You haven't seen me in months. That's plenty of time to change. I've grown up, matured, and I've realized I hate this house, this whole place, and I hate who I was. I was an ass, I really was, and what's to love about this place anyway? Sure, it looks fancy and nice, but you should know there's no love here. I actually envy the way your parents love you and your sister openly." This shocks me too, and I feel a pang of sympathy. I get the feeling he's never said this to anyone, and that once he started it all just came out. I feel almost honored. "Just tell me, is there anything I can do to get your forgiveness?"
That's when an idea pops into my head. I already know I'm weakening, that I'm going to say yes and end up forgiving him sooner or later. But I can at least seem like I'm in control here, and make some conditions. "There is one thing you can do," I say slowly, pausing in my cleaning. "Do you know the boy from the party last night? Blonde hair, blue eyes?" I ask.
I can see the thoughtful expression on his face. "The guy named Draven? I think my mom said that's what his name is..."
I can feel my mood shift at just the mention of his name. "Yes, him!" I exclaim. "If you can get him and me a date, I will forget everything you've ever done. We..." I pause, almost unable to believe I'm about to say this. "We can be friends."
He looks delighted. "That's all?" he asks. "You don't want money?" He seems thoughtful. "I can do that. I'll get you a date with him." he extends a hand to me. "Is this a deal?"
Not the most promising start to a friendship, begging and bribery, but hey, it's a chance at that date. I accept his hand and shake it. "Deal."