Boom Goes the Dynamite
My problems started when Jane called me into the kitchen.
Now Jane has probably gone a little too far from the line of sanity, but she was a good Mum. With her coffee bean eyes and messy reddish brown hair, she always looked like she had just hopped out of bed, usually with a pencil stuck in it somewhere... it’s kinda hard to tell, actually. At least I know I can always count on her.
But I also know I can count on her to drop a bomb on me at the last minute. And on a regular day, I like bombs. Only the ones that actually explode though.
“Lysandrias!” Jane exclaimed as I entered. “I just had the most amazing idea!”
“And what does it have to do with me?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. Mum was practically shining.
“We’re going to enter the Pet Spotlight!”
“No!” I immediately cried out. Me? In a contest? No way. No way in all of Neopia was I going to enter THAT contest. It was even worse than the beauty contest; especially so because you couldn’t just harass people into voting for you! My mother could have just drawn a potato with ears, and the rest could be history!
The problem was that the spotlight had special judges. I also had no idea where they lived, so my tactic would be useless.
“The Pet Spotlight?” my younger sister Ramsily echoed, poking her head in from the living room. “That sounds like so much fun!”
“For you,” I growled. “I don’t do contests.”
“It doesn’t matter if you win or lose,” Mum protested. “It’s better to try than quit from the beginning!”
“No,” I replied flatly. “I am NOT dressing up and entering that contest.”
“Yes you are!” Mum chimed, smiling. “You are going to dress up as the pretty Princess I know you are and I’ll draw you. And then you can get started on your little story.”
“I’m NOT a Princess!”
“If you don’t, you know what I can do,” she reminded me, her smile sickly innocent. I sure didn’t want to find out what, because her threats were never empty.
“I can help!” Ramsily chirped, looking at me. “We have a lot of work to do.”
And that’s why I had to try to become a real Princess in a few hours.
“Ly, do you even brush your hair?!” Ramsily asked bewildered, armed with my hair brush.
“Yes... just not as often as some people,” I admitted grudgingly. Ramsily shook her head, as if she expected such behaviour from me.
“Alright, I have all of the supplies that we’ll need. Hairspray, makeup, perfume, and of course, you’ll wearing your royal clothes.
Sigh. I didn’t mind the crown, but the dress? You can’t do anything fun wearing a dress... you can’t use dynamite wearing a dress!
It was then I realized how much makeup Ramsily actually had. I had always known the island Kacheek liked to look nice, but looking nice required this much makeup? Kill me now.
“OW!” I screeched. Ramsily glared at me, annoyed.
“This wouldn’t have happened if you brushed your hair once in a while,” she said.
“I do, I just-” I bit my tongue to keep from yelling out in pain.
“Lysandrias, stop blinking for Fyora’s sake!
“I can’t help it!” I insisted. “If I came up to you with a plastic stick and tried to jam it in your eye, would you blink?”
“Mascara is not a plastic stick; at it will look horrible if you don’t stop blinking!” Ramsily said, trying to jab it in my eye again, her eyes narrowed with concentration.
Eye shadow. Eyeliner. Blush. LIPSTICK. Ever single grooming supply available was on my face. Ramsily looked exhausted, as if she was the one who just had her face attacked.
“Okay, you can look now,” she said, holding out a mirror. Gingerly, I took it, and gazed at myself.
I was beautiful. I was... a Princess.
They eyeliner made my black eyes pop out. The shimmery eye shadow seemed to add a faint glow around them. The blush, the lipstick, the mascara... my face was like an artistic masterpiece. And my hair was staying in one place. Ramsily carefully placed my gleaming Royalgirl crown onto my head and backed away fast, like it was an explosive. And believe me; I do not have a problem with explosives.
I only had one problem with the whole thing.
It wasn’t me in the mirror. It was a complete stranger. And I already hated her.
I sat there in my bedroom, sulking.
I didn’t have the heart to tell Ramsily about my dilemma, since she had worked so hard to try to make me look pretty. And to be honest, I didn’t think that she would be the one to help me with my new identity crisis.
I stared at the piece of paper in front of me. How could I write ever write something in my state? I was beautiful. I wasn’t Lysandrias, that Kackeek that would write anything, anywhere. The Kacheek that would blow stuff up for the fun of it, who would curl up on the bed reading each night.
Slowly, I took my crown off my head. The blood red gem in the centre reflected my face. Overcoming the urge to throw it on the floor, I set it down on the table.
Long ago, I had desperately wanted to be painted. It wasn’t that I didn’t like how I looked, I just wanted proof that I was important enough to have millions of Neopoints spent on me, and only me.
However, the whole royal pet had its lows. Suddenly, I wasn’t a normal person. Suddenly, I had to act a certain way, and suddenly people had to treat me differently.
Even then, I knew who I was. And I knew that the paint never had changed me.
…So why did an extra layer of paint on my face change me?
And then a smirk curled onto my lips, and I put the crown back on.
What’s the best thing next to being a pretty Princess?
“LYSANDRIAS!” Mum hollered. I stayed at the top of the staircase.
“What?” I yelled back, grinning.
“Come down! I have to try to draw you!” As daintily as I could, I fluttered down the staircase, landing without my usual thud.
Ramsily looked horrified, jaw dropping, while Jane grinned like a maniac. “I love your look!” she squealed. “Very creative. I can imagine it now. The Princess of explosives! You did a very good job Ramsily.”
Ramsily closed her mouth and nodded until her hair was all over the place and her flower clip was askew. She managed to say in a small voice, “It’s so you.”
I never thought that being me could be a compliment.
So I stood a cocky smirk on my face. As Jane sketched, she looked happier and happier. When the drawing was finally drawn, I think she captured my best features. The fact that I was wearing my worn out TNT shirt, and my crown still glittering on top of my hair. Oh, and my smirk. That was pretty good too.
“We’re going to win!” she grinned, ruffling my hair and messing it up again.
Honestly, I could care less if we win or lose. All that really mattered to me was that a picture of me looking pretty wouldn’t be entered, and so if I did win, I wouldn’t become the laughing stock at Neoschool. Do you know how embarrassing that would be?