Skin Deep

~ Five ~

I came home to an empty house yet again. I threw my bag down in the foyer and kicked off my shoes. The little red light on the answering machine was blinking. My socks slid over the smooth wood floor as I went to relieve the light of its annoying duty. 

"Hey, Ally Cat, I'll be home late tonight. I have to catch some things up here before I leave." My mother's voice said the words but I could tell her attention was focused on something work related. "Can you throw my new jeans in the washer? There are a couple twenties in the pocket so you can order a pizza if you want. I'll be home as soon as I can. Love you." The machine had apparently cut off just as she was making kissing sounds into the phone. 

I called in the pizza and started a load of laundry then I realized how bored I was. I had already finished my homework and the book that I had been reading. I surfed through channels until the delivery guy showed up. He smiled at me when I answered the door and made a big deal of retrieving my change. I handed part of it back as a tip and closed the door. 

I stopped in front of the mirror that hung in the foyer before taking the pizza into the living room. At first glance I looked a little mousy with my shoulder length dirty blond hair, but the longer I stood there the more I appreciated my bright blue eyes and pixie like features. I had a few freckles that only showed under my eyes and a creamy smooth completion. I was tall and slender without looking boyish. In the silky lilac baby doll top that I was wearing, flowing over my dark straight-legged jeans, I looked like a fairy dressed in weeping agapanthus blooms. 

I glanced down at the tiny silver lace ups that my father had sent me for my birthday, or more likely my father's new wife. The card had read "ballerina slippers for my tiny dancer", but the shoes were flats not slippers and I had never been to a dance lesson in my life. Never-the-less, they were an excellent accessory and I supposed that his intentions were good. 

My school bag was on the floor behind me, the edge of the drawing paper was peeking out. I compared the portrait with my reflection. It was spot on except for one tiny detail. In the picture I was wearing a ring.  

It had a beautiful design of intertwining vines. In the middle there was a large stone. Even in two dimensions it seemed to reflect light. I imagined it in silver and amethyst to match my outfit, but in truth I had no way of knowing what colors the artist had intended it to be. 

I took the picture and the pizza up the stairs to my bedroom. I closed the door and turned on a little background music (which is something I do when I need privacy). I wasn't sure why I had taken the precaution when I was the only one home. I taped the charcoal portrait onto the large mirror attached to my dresser. I crawled into the window seat with the pizza box. 

As I ate the strange paranoia I felt during lunch swept through me. I glanced out the window half expecting to see someone standing in my yard. What I did see surprised me just the same. Four houses down, on the opposite side of the street a brand new black mustang was parked on the curb. In the yard behind it was a small sign that read "house for sale" hanging from that sign was another with the word "sold" in bright red.