She thinks I should be perfect...
Hester's words echoed in Anadil's head as she walked home, her feet splashing on the pavement from the rain the night before. The words, the look in her eyes as if she'd said too much, it all hit a little too close to home. The years of dance and martial arts lessons, the formal notes when she scored well on her report card... Anadil only got any love from her mother when she did something perfect. She had to, to make up for her strange appearance and strange, reclusive nature.
When Anadil returned home, her legs burning from the journey to the edge of town, she found a sleek black car parked in the horseshoe driveway. Of course she happened to be home, though from the blinking lights on the car, not for long. Anadil trudged into the house, hanging up her coat. As she walked toward her room, her mother exploded out of the nearest door in an explosion of sequins, designer dresses laden in her arms. She didn't see Anadil until she spoke.
"Do you need help?"
Harmony Beaumont's clear blue eyes met her daughter's, noticing her for the first time.
"Anadil, darling, it's been ages!"
"Sure has," muttered Anadil, taking some of the dresses and walking toward the car. Harmony was the epitome of society's perfect, beautiful model, with long, creamy legs, straight white teeth, and shiny blonde hair always styled to the latest trends.
"Congratulations, by the way," said Harmony as she passed her dresses to her agent, who loaded them into the trunk.
"For what?"
"Scoring so high on your AP Economics test. Perhaps you should go into that field. I've heard they make decent money."
Anadil sighed exasperatedly. "Mother, that was two years ago."
For a moment, she looked confused, then a bit sheepish. "Of course it was, darling, of course it was. I really should visit more often."
"Where are you off to now?" Anadil asked, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice. The house was so empty when she was there alone, and though her mother was haughty and extravagant, she could fill a room with her mere presence, and made everything seem less lonely.
"A runway in Los Angeles," her mother replied, opening the back door of the car. "But unfortunately we brought the gowns from the wrong line! Can you believe that!"
"I can't," said Anadil dryly.
Perhaps sensing her daughter's disappointment, Harmony put an arm around Anadil, an embrace that she didn't reciprocate. "Don't worry, I'll be back after the show. I promise."
She closed the door of the car, motioning for the chauffeur to pull out of the driveway. Just as she rounded the corner, Anadil sighed.
"You always do."