Now that Dad has signed the Contract, Sotheby’s goes into high gear. Their in-house art director and costume designer spend the rest of the afternoon, draping silk over Sparrow’s body, and holding swatches up to her skin.
“Which character do you think?” the costume designer says.
The art director slides the tie off Sparrow’s pony tail, and Sparrow’s hand flies up, but she catches herself before she bats him away. Eyebrow arched, he fans her hair over her shoulders; he knows she wants to slap him. “I was thinking Psyche,” he says.
“Not Psyche,” Sparrow snaps.
The two men look at each other. “She speaks!” the costume designer says.
Sparrow softens her voice. “Psyche was Venus’ pawn. Venus put her through hell, because she was jealous of her.”
“Well, since you know your mythology, who do you suggest?”
Sparrow runs through a list of goddesses and nymphs in her head. She toys with Aetna, feeling she could erupt at any moment, but then lands on the perfect choice. “Persephone. Because she expresses spring, and the earth’s rebirth.”
The costume designer’s eyebrows go up, and he grabs a luminous pink gold swatch. “Perfect with her skin. And the reflected light will heighten the sense of a life force.”
The art director stares at a spot on the wall. “We’ll project a dark cave behind her and flowers springing at her feet.”
“Yes, yes!”
“Can Sven get the set done by tomorrow morning?”
“He hasn’t disappointed us yet.”
They volley ideas back and forth about how to express Sparrow’s unblemished purity, and she hides her smile. People always think of Persephone as the innocent Hades kidnapped. They forget she became the badass goddess of the underworld.
Listening to them, Sparrow vows that if she is sold into Hell, she’ll become the badass goddess nobody ever saw coming.
She imagines strolling the runway, flame throwers pointed at the crowds on either side, men scattering, shoving each other to get out of her way. They stumble through the smoke, their three-thousand-dollar suits ruined.
It’s just a fantasy, she knows. But I’m not naive like Samantha Rowley, believing the justice system will save me.
Either Imran wins the bidding, or I’ll have Exodus get me out.
YOU ARE READING
Sparrow's Story - A Girl Defiant
Teen FictionBoston, Harvard, but most of all, Imran. That’s what Sparrow wants. Imran is physics and poetry, deep brown eyes and a smile that makes her heart race. And he’s the only guy she’s ever met who loves her brilliant mind as much as her beauty. They’ve...
