Secondhand [UNDER RECONSTRUCTION]

Chapter Two

All it took was one simple conversation to convince my Mom. So on the last day of school, approximately three years after I met Zeus, I asked her if I could change the way I looked.

Needless to say, the reaction I faced from her was unbearably over the top.

"Why don't you just pray to God, you know He answers prayers..." she beseeched.

"Don't you get it, Mom? Stop talking about God and God and God! It's so darned irritating when He doesn't do anything to stop the bullying!" I screamed.

It was pointless getting Mom to see my view. She could not possibly understand how I felt whenever I faced rejection from Zeus and she would never know how many times I poured my heart out, locked in my room while hours seemed to pass slowly.

Mom said nothing, just looked at me with sad eyes that threatened to tear.

"I can't stand it anymore. I don't want to be scorned at. Do you know how that feels?" I accused, failing to prevent my lower lip from trembling.

"I realize that now, dear," she said, caressing my with her gentle touch. Crossing over to me, the distance that was between us disappeared.

"I'll do everything in my ability to help you," she assured. I buried my head in the crook between her neck and shoulder, sobbing softly. Tear stains blurred my glasses.

She murmured, "But someday, I hope you know how much more important inward beauty is than outward appearance. Never forget that."

As Mom stroked my hair and comforted me with sweet nothings, we stood there in our living room, probably the first time both mother and daughter bonded. When Dad returned home, he was rather shocked, but after I had explained to him the endless teasing I faced in school as 'Nerdy', he relented.

It was not hard to see why they acquiesced to let me go for a 'make-over' - to put it simply. Dad and Mom were Homecoming King and Queen, they were once beautiful and popular. What would their friends' reactions be if they saw that Elena Rusakova, their only child, was a geek with Harry Potter glasses?

As much as inner beauty and character was emphasized in our Christian household, they could not refute the fact that in schools, social cliques were rampant. Plus, I never believed in the notion of God.

If God existed, why didn't He answer my prayers when I willed Zeus to like me back? Why didn't anyone comfort me when I sat atop the toilet bowls, just after being bullied? No, instead, He let me suffer.

Regardless, my parents kept true to their word. A few days later, on one bright and sunny morning, the doorbell rang. It was not too hard for them to hire an image consultant, because Dad was one of the big bosses in a pharmaceutical company, and he knew a lot of contacts.

Either way, Mr Alex was introduced as my personal image consultant. About a man in his mid-twenties, he was well-built and fine-looking. I knew straight away, from a gut instinct, that he must have been someone who had a lot of friends in his schooldays.

Almost instinctively, I blushed and shied away. He would be teasing me like all the other people, and it made me embarrassed to be in the presence of a handsome man with an all-American look.

However the moment he walked into our door, he looked at me with such a burning intensity in his eyes that I feared they would pop out of their sockets.

"Why do you wear those glasses?" he blurted.

My eyes shot up defiantly. How dare he mock me!

"Hey, these are cool, you know!" I defended hastily.