Miss Clyde
2008-10-02 16:47:10 UTC
“It is a gift.”
Adara looked at the jeweled necklace with hesitation. It was a deep green, mimicking her eyes. The gold plating caused the emerald stones to shimmer, and the surface was akin to the sea; shadows reflected from it aimlessly, causing ripple-like images to form on surface. It made her all the more suspicious.
“What is it for?” she asked incredulously.
Her Aunt Keren gingerly handled the necklace, lifting it from the obsidian case. She didn’t answer. Instead, she strode over to the girl with a frightful grace and turned her around, unclasping the necklace. “Your hair,” she commanded.
As she brushed her lengthy blonde tresses from her neck, she felt the cold substance lay against her tiny, hypersensitive hairs. The jewels cruelly caressed her skin, making her shiver.
“It’s a gift from your uncle,” the woman finally responded.
Her face was disturbing in its ambiguity. It was as if an eternal veil shrouded her features, for they were deceitful to the eye. Her eyes never seemed to stay one color; they ranged from blue, gray, to green, determined by some unknown force. She wore a heavy amount of make-up, but it was not unattractive. The hue of the copious amounts of kohl around her eyes differed every day and only enhanced the mysteries of her indeterminate eyes. The rogue on her already burgundy cheeks seemed to darken with each passing day and caused her features to glow in spite of its natural dark quality.
“Why would he give me such a handsome gift?” Adara queried. “I have done nothing special.”
These gifts were common enough, but Uncle Avi never gave anything away without reason. The last time she obtained something of such quality it was for her distant cousin’s wedding the year before. Come to think of it, the gift had been a dress, as green as the jewels around her neck. Her uncle seemed to believe green suited her best.
“You will be meeting his associates tonight,” Keren responded coolly. Every utterance from her mouth was either a statement or a command, never a question. She was the complete opposite of Adara.
“Will Gabriel be there?” said girl asked optimistically.
The boy, only one month younger than she, was her light in darkness (the darkness being pompous men with similar but equally distasteful suits).
“Most likely,” she answered curtly, leaving the ostentatious room. “I expect you to be ready by noon.”
Adara nodded her response, and the mysterious woman closed the door behind her. Taking off the striking band, she gracelessly dropped down on her elegant bed, trying to remember the last time she had seen her friend. Unfortunately, her recollection was blurry and all she could remember was the fact that he was a good head shorter than she was and the torture she had put him through because of it.
“It sure has been a while,” a voice filtered in the hallway outside Adara’s door said. “I wonder what the occasion is for.”
Another, slightly higher voice, scoffed. “Father probably wants to convey the message that he has the largest ego of them all.”
The voices belonged to her cousins, Brina and Talia. Adara stood, discarding the necklace on her dresser, and walked over to her door. Opening it, the two girls turned.
“I was about to knock,” Brina said with a nervous smile.
She was the younger of the two, paradoxically being taller and thinner than her sister was. Despite being quite awkward during her growth spurt, she had recently acquired a kind of grace that put her mother to shame, thus beginning their dissimilarities. With Brina, what you saw was the truth. There were no mysterious, only kind chocolate eyes and a tender smile. She was a girl you could trust.
Talia, on the other hand, was different. She always seemed to be off in another place. Her voice was small and quaint, and didn’t hold the command her mother’s did. Even though she was introverted, she wasn’t kind like her sister. She was distant and often times cold. Her similar brown eyes were darker than her sister’s and her smiles were rare.
Brina sat on her bed, behaving as if it were her own room. Talia, however, sat in a chair in the corner. Spotting the necklace, she sighed. “So I suppose Father informed you of the gathering.”
“Actually, your mother did,” Adara corrected, sitting next to Brina,” and I wish she hadn’t.”
“I guess you’re not looking forward to it either,” Brina said. “I don’t even know why we have to go; those people are of no concern to us.” Brina was always the rebel, outspoken and frank.
(c) Miss Clyde 2008