Dark Descendants-Isle of the Lost

Sit Still, Look Pretty

THE SOUND OF A HUNGRY STOMACH WAS EVIE'S ALARM CLOCK. At first she could ignore it, trying to blend it in with her dreams. But its never ending growl drove her eyes open and her to sit up from her position on the hay stack she slept on in the horse stables.

She put a hand over her stomach to calm it down, but it just growled at her, angry at being empty for so long.

She sighed and stood up, then immediately sat back down again. Spots danced in her eyes like little black bugs buzzing around her head.

She was like this almost all the time; even simple acts like standing up or walking drained her energy like mosquitos drained blood. She took a deep breathe and grabbed a brick that jutted out of the wall that was perfect support to help her get up.

She sucked in a breath at the headache she received when she got up and unsteadily walked to the stable door and opened it.

Her mother stood there waiting for her, her arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. Her dark blue robe draped to the ground like curtains, and her cheekbones were sharp and jagged, almost like that brick that Evie used to get up. "Princesses wake up on time, Evie. I'm so disappointed in you."

Evie looked down at the ground in shame, taking a sudden interest in the tiny holes in the grey dull bricks. "What time is it, mother?"

Her lip curled in disgust. "Ten o'clock."

Evie's eyes widened and she looked up at the queen in surprise. Ten o'clock? What was happening to her? She got up late most of the time, but not... that late. The lack of food must be getting to me, she thought.

"Four hours past time," her mother continued, shaking her head, "which means..."

Evie sighed. "I have to make you four dresses and a four-item dinner."

The evil queen nodded, a small smug smile stretching her lips, the only almost sign of affection Evie ever got from her. "Good girl. Now go make me a four-ítem breakfast."

Evie nodded and rolled up her fashionable sleeves. She took a deep breath. "Let's get this party started."

Her mother put her palm out to stop her before she could get cracking. "Dear, you have to do your homework. Remember?"

Evie sighed. "Right. My homework."

Her homework wasn't your normal homework, like her school wasn't your normal school. Unless you're in Cosmetology.

Yep, her homework was putting layer after layer of makeup on perfectly. If she messed up in anyway- even a little eyebrow that needed to be tweezed or a tiny bit of unsymmetrical eyeshadow- she'd get all her hard work washed off and have to try again. All under ten minutes.

If she went past her time limit, that meant that she had to do two times the work she did today.

Every day, the pressure of messing up weighed down her shoulders, threatening to squash her flat (which wasn't very attractive). Every day, she worried constantly that she wasn't ever going to make her mother proud of her.

She ran to her room, fighting back the urge to throw up at the discomfort of doing so, and pulled out her red apple-shaped makeup kit. She went through the routine without even thinking: first wash face (she did this with the horse trough that she had to fill everyday), then put on concealer, then blush (always use upward strokes), then eyeshadow, then eyeliner, then eyelash curler (she'd found that in Jafar's Stolen Goods shop), then lip liner, then lip gloss, then beauty mark, then eyebrow tweeze. She did it as fast as she could, almost flawlessly. She had, after all, had a lot of practice doing this kind of thing.

"Time's up!" her mother growled and stomped into the room, her high heels clicking loudly against the rock. "Time for inspection."

Her mother peered at her face, scrutinizing every detail that made it up. Finally, after a long and quite awkward silence, she smiled. "Good job, Princess! You actually did good this time!"

Evie felt her spirits soar with her mother's praise. Her mother was finally being nice, she'd finally found something to be proud of, a reason to keep her instead of ditch her into the streets like she threatened everyday.

"Now you can do mine everyday as well!" her mother exclaimed excitedly, her eyes lighting up with pleasure.

Evie blinked. She wished those eyes were directed to something else than what they really were. "What?"

"Now you can do mine," she repeated. "It's so laborious to do it all myself. You wouldn't want me to be miserable like you, would you?"

Evie thought about it for a moment. "Well... no, but-"

"Great, dear!" Her mother patted her head like she was a dog. Evie felt like growling at her. "Now go work on your chores, I expect you to be completely finished by the time I get back. Tootle-loo!"

"But... where are you going?" Evie asked.

"The salon, of course," she said, holding out her hand. "This paint job is so two years ago!"

The little poison apples decorating her nails looked perfectly fine to Evie. "Didn't you get them painted yesterday?"

"See!" she shrieked. "They need to be redone!"

"But-"

"See you later, darling!" She sashayed out the door.

Evie tucked her hair behind her ear and sucked her lips into her mouth. "Okay... I mean, you said you would bring me this time, but okay."

She threw her tiara onto the ground. "Who wants to be an evil princess anyways? Those are so two years ago!"

She looked at the crown for a moment, lying there alone and rejected on the cold stone. Then she picked it up, muttering "sorry", and putting it gingerly back upon her blue curly locks. "It's not like I've got anything else to be."

Then she put her hair up in a pink ribbon (because pink and blue go together famously well) and got to work.