Hey Guys,
Picture of Chris---->
Chapter 2
"Bye Mr. Stark.” Taylor says quietly as she heads toward the front door of the pawn shop.
“Goodbye Ms. Clark. Have a nice night!” Mr. Stark calls out. He’s always so cheerful, Taylor thinks.
Taylor pushes out the doors and starts her walk home. She walks along the road for half an hour thinking about Chris. She had not been able to get him out of her head since he left. Even when she was sketching her jewelry, which always made her block everything out but that, she was thinking about him. His dark brown messy hair and his blue eyes were the first things that she had noticed. As she continued to think about him, though, she noticed his perfect figure, his perfect face, and his muscular arms.
She was still in a bit of a daze as she arrived at her house and opened the door. Her mom was nowhere to be seen, but there was a note sitting on the coffee table.
Tay-
I went to bed early tonight. When you get back, can you run to the grocery store? There’s a list on the counter. Thanks Sweetie.
~Mom.
Sure Mom, why would I just want to relax for a bit? Why would I want to stay home? Sure, I’ll go to the store and hide my face while I look around for all the things that you need. Sounds like a blast.
Taylor sighs. She never just gets to stay home. At eighteen she was expected to work and do all the shopping and everything while her mother works two hours a day and then sleeps or drinks or watches movies. Taylor wouldn’t even have the chance to go to college at the rate it was going and since her sister was beautiful, she wasn’t forced to do anything. Tiffany, or Tiff for short, sat home all day and then went out with a different boy every night. She’s twenty-two.
Taylor walked back out the door and hopped on her bike. She rode to the store to shop.
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Taylor slammed her hand down on the alarm beeping continuously on her bedside table. She was not ready to get up and face the world yet. Her warm bed felt like heaven, but she knew she needed to get to work.
She got up and jumped in the shower. When she got out she stared herself down in the mirror, hating the scar and wanting it to disappear. She traced one finger slowly down the largest part of the scar. The whole scar almost looked like a tree with branches sticking out everywhere. One single tear fell down her cheek before she stopped herself. She had cried over this part of her life so many times that whenever she did now she cursed herself.
Taylor slams her fist down on the sink and closes her eyes. When she finally opens her eyes again a few minutes later, she sees herself without the scar. She’s beautiful and people would die to have a face like hers. She looks like she could be a supermodel. She looks like someone who doesn’t always have to hide her face. She looks normal.
Unfortunately, the day dream slips away and Taylor realizes that she must get to work. Spending this much time looking at her scar has cost her time and she’s afraid she won’t be able to get out the door quick enough. She’s got a half hours walk ahead of her. She starts down the stairs but runs back up when she realizes she forgot her sketchbook.
When she gets down stairs she tried to slip out the back without being heard.
“Taylor, is that you?” Her mother calls from the living room. She’s probably watching some old movie that doesn’t even make any sense. Taylor’s mom didn’t appreciate actors and actresses the way that Taylor did and that aggravated her sometimes. She’s in such a hurry that she decides not to answer her mother, but instead slips out the back door.
Taylor cuts through a couple backyards until she reaches an alleyway that leads out to the street. She walks back out to the street, then makes a right and continues her walk to Mr. Stark’s Pawn Shop. She had about fifteen minutes to get there and she knew she wouldn’t be able to walk that fast. She sighed and started jogging down the street. She was in great shape from all the walking and biking, so it didn’t bother her too much.
“Hey… Mr…. Stark.” Taylor pants out at she walks into the store. She didn’t realize how long of a run it was form her house to the shop and she was exhausted from the run. On the bright side, though, she made it on time.
“Hello Ms. Clark. Why are you so out of breath?” He asks.
“I was running late,” She explains, “So I had to run the whole way here.” She says in her quiet little voice. She never really spoke up; just spoke in a small, soft voice. It was like a mouse, but not as squeaky and much sweeter.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Clark. I wouldn’t have minded if you were a little late. You know that we never really get costumers until around noon.” He shrugs.
“That’s okay; it’ll help me get in shape.” She jokes a bit. She feels comfortable with Mr. Stark. She’s comfortable enough to let him see her face. “Mr. Stark?” She asks.
“Yes?”
“Do you think that my scar makes me ugly?” She can feel the heat rising in her cheeks at the embarrassment. Mr. Stark walks around the counter with a horrified expression taking over his face.
“Ms. Clark-”
“Taylor, please.”
“Taylor, you are not ugly at all. If you didn’t have that scar, you wouldn’t be you. I think you’re beautiful. It doesn’t matter what other people think though, you must convince yourself that you’re beautiful before other people believe.” Taylor nods her head, thinking about what Mr. Stark had just told her. “What brings this question up? Did my nephew say something to upset you?”
“No, no! Chris actually said something like that. I wish all people were as nice as you two…” Taylor mumbles, trailing off at the end. She sulks into the back room and sits down with her sketchbook.
She sits for a while, designing a new piece. This new one is a necklace that has a huge diamond in the center, though half of the diamond is missing. When she is finished she sees the diamond as the face, part is pretty, but the other is just plain ugly.
“You know, that necklace is still beautiful.” Someone says right into her ear. She jumps two feet in the air for the second day in a row.
“Stop doing that!” She hisses.
“Doing what?” Chris asks innocently.
“Scaring me! Now, what are you doing here?”
“I came to see you! I couldn’t stop thinking about you last night. About your beautiful face.”
“Is that supposed to be some kind of pick-up line, Pretty Boy?” Taylor asks him, though she could say the same thing to him. His blue eyes were melting her and his hair looked messily perfect.
“Pretty boy? I like that. Did you forget my real name, though?” Chris asks.
“No, I remember your real name, Chris. I just think Pretty Boy suits you better. As long as you like it I may as well keep calling you Pretty Boy.”
“Keep calling? Does that mean I’ll get to see you sometime other than when you’re here? You know I’m just going to keep coming if you don’t agree to go to coffee or dinner with me.”
“I’m pretty sure you don’t want to be seen with me, Pretty Boy. I mean, really, if we could switch the parts in Beauty and the Beast I would be the beast and you would be the Belle. Besides, there’s always paparazzi following you and I’m sure your Daddy wouldn’t like seeing you with a ratty girl that has a huge scar down her face.”
“Honestly. I don’t care what my Dad thinks. If I like someone that he doesn’t approve of he’ll just have to deal with that, huh? As for the scar, we already talked about this.” Taylor let her hair fall over her face then and looked down at her work. “I know why you drew that piece. That diamond is supposed to represent your face, huh? Well, the necklace is still amazing and so are you.” Chris reaches down and cautiously lifts her and tucks it behind her ear. “This isn’t a pity party or a charity, okay? I actually like you and I was hoping you would like me, too. If you want we could have coffee somewhere private like my second house?”
“You have a second house?” Taylor asked warily.
“Of course. It’s my house for when I want to get away from all the drama of my parents.”
“Chris, I barely have one house. There’s, like, no room in my house, and you have a mansion and probably seven other houses. Plus, if you wanted to, you could go to college. I can’t because I can’t get a scholarship with this thing.” She said pointing at her scar and grimacing.
“That’s okay, it’s not like I wanted all of this. Honestly, I’d rather live like you do.”
“No you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t want to do the grocery shopping, act as a maid to your mother, have your mother and sister tell you you’re not worth anything and you’ll never do anything with your life and your ugly. You wouldn’t be able to live like that.”
“Okay, you’re right, I wouldn’t, but you can prove them wrong! You can make something of yourself! You can earn money and buy a nice house and live well! It could all happen!”
“Not with this thing on my face it couldn’t. You don’t understand. People think you’re a freak if you look like this. They think you’re a monster and they don’t even know what happened!” Taylor felt the tear fall down her cheek and blinked furiously to stop them, but failed. Soon enough she was sobbing and Chris had her in a hug, drying her tears every once in a while.