Blythe Ragin had it all-big house, personal chauffeur, perfect parents, impeccable record, and everything lined up for her to continue on her educational path to Yale to become a neurosurgeon. However, things aren't always as they appear to be.
Caug...
"Merry Christmas, Blythe," Mother says with a smile as she hands me a large, packaged, rectangular, box.
"What's this?" I shift somewhat uncomfortably. I'd already received every present I'd asked for so the extra causes me unease.
"Just open it, darling," She smiles and leans into my father, who looks as equally confused.
I slowly undo the bow around the top and easily tear the wrapping paper. Beneath the garnish is a red velvet box.
"Open it," She urges me, the excitement pooling in her eyes.
I carefully push open the lid and am met with a plunged, appliqued, white dress top.
"Mother-" I begin, fear slightly tainting my voice.
"It's your dress!" She claps her hands together with the largest grin I've ever seen on her face. "I know we were going to pick it out together, but I saw it a few weeks ago and just knew it was the one!" She shrieks. "It's couture!"
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"I can see that," I mumble, playing with the appliques on the top.
"Well, honey, pull it out!" She urges me and I stand from my sitting position, pulling the dress with me as I go. It's long and somewhat poofy, with a thin brown ribbon belt and a shimmery bottom. The back is out and it has two small sleeves.
"It's beautiful, Mother," I say, my voice still tainted with disappointment.
"I'm so glad you like it!" If she notices my dislike, she ignores it. "We have to get it covered and hung up immediately! Anna-Louis!" She shouts as she moves quickly into the foyer, her silk robe billowing behind her.
I smooth out the velvet fabric of my Santa-like nightie and pull my black robe tighter around my body. My father clears his throat and straightens his plaid pajamas as well before standing and retrieving another package from under the tree- a manila envelope.
"Your mother was so worried about the big presents that she didn't even notice this one," He hands it to me and kisses my head. "Merry Christmas, Blythe."
I scrunch my brow at my father's odd behavior and begin to tear into the envelope as he walks away.
Inside is a thick packet, a felt flag, and a few other small trinkets. Puzzled, I read the first line of the packet:
To a Miss Blythe Ragin:
You have been accepted into Yale University.
I stop reading, my heart pounding in my chest. An early acceptance letter? I read on and become more and more thrilled by the second.
"I got in," I murmur to myself. "I got in."
"I got in!" I shout, before remembering that it would be best if Mother didn't know about this.
