I Have A Shopping Mall in My Closet [EDITING]

Good Girl Gone Bad

That night, I devised a plan.

1) steal the Book of Forbidden Spells

2) find a metamorphosis spell

3) place a secret spell over my room

Okay. Maybe it was more a checklist, and I could have possibly used the word "spell" too many times. I don't know where my parents got the Forbidden Spell book, but taking it was easy. I used my enchanted compass, and found it hidden in the couch (why the couch?). From my wall, I took the pictures of the models I wanted to resemble, and out my magazine, I cut the names of designers I wanted to fill my closet with. I turned off the lights, and I drew a chalk circle on the floor, then sat down inside it, criss-cross applesauce. When I was comfortable, I lit a single candle. Next to the candle, I placed a photo of Miranda Kerr. I laid my hand on top of it and concentrated. The Miranda picture began to heat up. The heat spread up my arm, and ran rampant through my body. A gentle breeze rolled in from nowhere, and blew the candle out. The magic swirled around me, and after a few seconds, the breeze left, leaving the room completely still.

I jumped up, and ran to my mirror. I stared proudly at my new slim, trim body. My hair had flattened out, so it looked as if I'd just come from a salon. I was beautiful! I hiked up my now, ill fitting sweats, and got back in they circle. I raised my hand, full of clothing ads, and whispered:

"I desire this attire."

A fierce wind blew the papers out of my hand and flung around the around the room. With a final gust of wind, they flew into my closet door, sticking to the wood like darts. I raised both hands and spoke three more words:

"Keep my secret," I demanded from my room.

There was a loud crack, like a gavel confirming the sentence.

Silence.

The air smelled faintly of burnt toast. That was good, because it told me that I had done everything right. I sprinted to my closet. It looked the same as it always has, but it was filled with designer galore. One side, an assortment of jeans, and on the other, jackets, dresses, and tops. On the floor, dozens of pairs of gorgeous shoes shouted over each other. "Pick me! No! Pick me!"

I needed real clarity. I shut my closet door and dashed into the living room. My mom was on the couch, with a bag of popcorn. I asked her how I looked.

"Did you gain weight again?", she inquired hesitantly.

"Yay!", I shouted, jumping with elation. It worked! She didn't suspect a thing.

"Yay?", my mom replied, obviously confused.

I ran back into my room. If only I could make morning come faster. I was going to be prettier than all the girls at school, prettier than Genvieve! Too bad for me, I can't tamper with time, it's rule #7.