Unfamiliar

“I may be convinced to do it,” Karyn’s voice was a touch sarcastic but dripping with snootiness and as usual had inflections that hinted at disdain. Without the bejeweled adornments and bloated trust fund, she would still be pretty but her chocolate colored hair and honey hued eyes would lack a shimmer that can only be provided by her own sense of self worth.

“It’s only for the fundraiser, you understand,” Charlotte added. In contrast to Karyn, Charlotte’s voice was soft and sweet, meant to dance in the open air rather ring across the marble floors and oak wood walls of fancy ballrooms.

“My dear child,” Karyn would always use the word “child” with someone she felt was her subordinate when in reality Charlotte’s family was worth more than hers. “I can have you walking, talking, and breathing like the rest of us socialites but you have to be in it body, mind, and soul. I’m not even sure why you’re bothering to try given your last encounter at Alice Grey’s debutante ball last year.”

The incident at the debutante ball earned Charlotte quite the reputation among the elite. Said celebration took place just outside Montgomery, Alabama where the Grey fortune had started and continued to grow. This would have been the first highbrow social even in Charlotte’s life: the details of which will be revealed shortly. It would only be fair to first explain the history of this character who finds herself a pariah among her so called peers.

Her father, Dr. Francis Stoker, had just come across a wealth of money having patented a formula to aide in the treatment for cancer. Before that time, Charlotte and the rest of the Stoker family lived in pleasant anonymity in New York City’s Long Island. Charlotte Stoker is the only child in the household and was raised by her mother, a sweet and thoughtful housewife from the Midwest.

Though raised by sweet and, by every definition of the word, conservative mother, Charlotte was allowed and often times encouraged to question everything from authority to status quo. The result was a child who was as precocious and outspoken as she was beautiful. When she wasn’t running around the playground pretending it to be some fantasy country that existed in the confines or her mind, she was often found reading quietly in the library buried beneath pile of books that she either just finished reading or planned to read. Admittedly, she was a favorite among the librarians.

It was no wonder that with a mind as unique and intelligent as Charlotte’s constantly found her at odds with her new group of friends. The culmination of which is the aforementioned debutante ball of Alice Grey. The stuffiness of the air inside the grand ballroom of the gargantuan mansion, not to mention the humidity of a hot July afternoon, drove Charlotte to act her usual self; that of a normal seventeen year old girl. Less than an hour after the evening began she was found climbing the grand magnolia trees. But it was jumping in the lake while wearing her gown that captured the attention of the attendees.

Of all the heirs and heiresses that graced the Grey mansion that evening, Karyn Worley was the closest thing Charlotte found to be a “friend.” But even then, Karyn was only considered as such because she was the only one courageous enough to approach the new girl; the result of a lost bet from earlier in the night’s festivities. One may ask what could have happened to bring Charlotte, the independent fair haired sapphire eyed beauty from Long Island, to put herself in a position of inferiority to that of Karyn. The reason is a tall broad shouldered young man with chestnut hair and green eyes named Jonathan Sayre. Normally, Charlotte would not go out of her way for the simple attention but she felt that desperate times called for desperate measures.

“So will you help me out, Karyn?” Charlotte pleaded.

“Well if we’re going to do this we might as well start with the wardrobe,” Karyn walked into Charlotte’s closet and glided her finger superficially over the gowns and dresses that were hung precariously by wire hangers. “Oh, this won’t do.”

“What? What is it?”

“Even if we do find a dress fine enough for you to wear there is no way I am going to allow you to wear anything slung so messily onto a wire hanger.” The word “wire” left a bad taste in Karyn’s mouth.

“So what do we do?”

Karyn made no response and took out her phone and dialed intently on the touchpad. Her eyebrows raised when the desired application popped up on the screen of the phone. She turned the device around and showed Charlotte images of her entire wardrobe.

“You look about my size so I will let you borrow one of my dresses until you get a decent ensemble in that ghastly excuse for a closet.”

Charlotte gracefully waved her slender fingers across the touch-screen and looked at the multitude of dresses that Karyn owned. There were dresses for the most elite events and the most casual, the most complex to the simplest designs. Some of them were adorned, almost dripping with jewels, others made of the rarest of fabrics. Colors from one end of the spectrum to the other and for the first time in her newly found privileged life, Charlotte’s eyes widened; her irises quivered with envy. The design of the dress was simple but radiantly beautiful and was of a shade of rose that had made Charlotte’s eyes bluer than they were the day she was born. It nearly made her weep. Karyn saw the look on her face and peeked at the dress on the phone screen and nodded in approval.

“I must say, Charlotte,” Karyn said with a subtle smile, “for someone who has not been with high society for long, you’ve got some good taste.” She took the phone from Charlotte’s hand and pushed a button or two and was talking to someone on the other end for a few seconds. When she hung up, she explained, “Someone will be here within the hour to bring the dress. That way we can see what it truly looks like on you before the fundraiser. Now, come along. We’ve got a long way to go.”

Karyn dialed a few more numbers and within 15 minutes of pushing “End” on her phone, a small army of makeup artists and hair stylists barged into the Stoker penthouse apartment. Amidst the whirl wind of hair and makeup products, the troops set to make a new woman out of Charlotte Stoker. Her rosy cheeks and curious eyes were buried underneath layers of powders and cream. The springy golden locks that floated about her elegant neck have been singed and iron out and slashed into a neat bob that ended abruptly just beneath her earlobes. And among the chaos, Charlotte somehow still heard Karyn’s pretentious screech of a voice dictating more and more instructions.

“Oh and those songs that you’re constantly humming to yourself,” Karyn commented.

“But my grandmother taught me those songs.” Charlotte pleaded.

“And I’m sure she’s a sweet lady,” Karyn patronized, “but you’ve got to stop and think about what others are thinking. Everyone in every event is judging you and you must act accordingly if you’re ever going to become one of us.”

“It’s just for this one evening, Karyn.”

“Oh, honey. I told you. You have to be in this one hundred percent.”

“So much for ‘To thine own self be true.’”

“I don’t get it.”

“It’s Shakespeare,” there was no response, “Hamelt? Do you read any books?”

“That’s it! That’s what’s missing. You’re always burying your nose in those nasty old books. What do you need to be any smarter for? After your father’s research, you’re set for life.”

“I want to enrich my mind. There’s no crime in that, is there?”

“Not so much as a crime; more like a taboo. It’s no wonder you never know what we are talking about at these parties.” Karyn randomly picked up a fashion magazine with what seemed to be French written all over the cover and handed it to Charlotte, “This is your new bible.”

“But this doesn’t interest me much, I’m afraid,” Charlotte protested.

“It doesn’t have to, my dear.”

It’s only on the surface and only for this one night, Charlotte thought to herself. I just need to get the attention of Jon Sayre and then I can drop this façade. I can always change what I wear, though that is such a beautiful dress. I can always wash off makeup and the curls of my hair is not permanently gone, neither is its luxurious length. And as far as this new reading material… I suppose I can stand it for now. The pictures are interesting, and these cities that these articles are about do seem exotic. It wouldn’t hurt to curb my curiosity for a little while.

A few more minutes pass and Charlotte found herself enjoying the company of the small army and strangely, even the presence of Karyn has become somewhat pleasant. Haughty is hardly ever used to describe the innocent lilt of Charlotte’s giggle until she found herself chortling at something witty, urbane, and which was in all likelihood, possibly gossip. There was a gentle rap at the door. The dress had arrived. The smooth silky rose fabric flowed out of the delivery man’s hands as he presented it to the two young ladies. Karyn beamed with pride as if she had sewn the dress herself. Mouth agape, Charlotte walked slowly to the dress and touched it softly.

Karyn insisted she try it out that instant to which Charlotte gleefully squealed and ran to put it on. She felt the smooth fabric flow on her soft creamy skin so gently and elegantly. And the color was more vibrant yet delicate, a hundred times more so than Karyn’s phone could accurately depict. Charlotte had begun to lose herself in the chaos of her father’s fortune for the first time since being supplanted by it and dared herself to actually enjoy the moment. She could feel the dress clinging ever so gently with her every moment that she nearly forgot to check herself in the mirror.

With a smile plastered on her face which was caked with a thick layer of makeup, she tugged playfully on her newly cut hair. It was almost as if she was subconsciously hoping that this would cause her hair to grow back quicker than anticipated. She caught a glimpse of the dress on the mirror, which served only to cause her smile to grow until her eyes slowly rolled upward. As her reflected self met eye to eye with her actual self, the makeup began to run as she gently wept at the image before her. As beautiful as the Charlotte Stoker in that dress appeared to be on the surface, the girl who stared back from that mirror was someone entirely unfamiliar.