Prompt: Start a story with the line “Everyone whispered about ____________ , but no one had the courage to talk to her.”
(This little story is coming from this ongoing work in my head, one that was kind of sprung by the last 642 things to write about, so please enjoy another character on the scene!)
Everyone whispered about Maxine Darcy, but no one had the courage to talk to her. First off, she hated when anyone from her parent’s circle of upper crust, high class friends called her Maxine. Maxine had been her great grandmother’s name and the current owner of that name despised it. It sounded, elderly, matronly, and unattractive. Max, as she preferred to go by, was none of those things.
At seventeen, she was young, lithe, exuberant and constantly looking for fun things to do. She supposed, or actually, she knew that it was her quality to search for fun things to do that had gotten her into this predicament in the first place. It was also her endless wallet of cash and her endless supply of stubbornness to show her parents up that had led up to this.
The benefit at the country club was warm, March had given them quite a few warmer than average days. Outside, on both the garden and the east lawn, a modest tea party had been brought to life. The warm sunshine fell on ivory table clothes and lacy napkins. Thick cream parchment held name cards and each and everyone of the faces, including her parents, grandmother on her father’s side, her brother, and her brother’s new girlfriend, held some form of shock or anger.
All Max had wanted was an entrance. She’s certainly made one in more ways than one. To begin, the dress. Her mother had sent the dress to her brother’s apartment because that was where Max had been living. What her mother didn’t know was that Max hadn’t been attending school for over a month a half. Thanks to her brother’s interfering phone call, now she did. Mary Darcy had sent the most proper, elegant, tasteless tea gown she could find in order to adequately show her displeasure in her youngest child. Along with the dress had a note, Max couldn’t remember much of it. The first two lines were more about this would make her brother and her father look. She wondered when the last time her mother gave a care about her.
The dress, originally had been a lovely peachy color that would have gone splendidly with Max’s original brown hair. Oops, forgot to tell Mom I dyed it. The peach had clashed with her warm skin and the newly platinum blonde hair, so the young girl had decided to get it altered. Taking into the town closest to her brother’s home, she had a dress maker alter the dress slight. Instead of ending at the ankles or having cap sleeves, the dress was now strapless and the skirt was fuller, wider, and ended around her knee caps. The peach had been transformed into a rocking red that did wonders for her.
To top the entire thing off, Max had arrived on her latest purchase. It wasn’t a car, or even a detestable motorcycle. It was a horse.
The former owner had named him Kelvin, for his hot blood, but Max had taken to calling him Cal. He had a buckskin coat, all golden cream with black points and a perfect black mane. He had been the only thing that had gotten Max through this hellish year thus far and she had finally saved up enough of her interest to purchase him. She’d been riding him since the beginning of last school year , but her mother refused to indulge the childish notion of ‘buying her daughter a pony’. Cal stood taller, seventeen hands, strong, lean, and a fierce. Max worried about her matching red heels getting caught in the stirrups, but then decided against dismounting. She would wait for her mother to come forward. Inevitably, she did.
“Maxine Eugenia Darcy, get off of that beast!” She screeched under her breath. Max stood her her ground.
“Or what mother? You’ll drag me down yourself? A likely outcome.”
“Maxine, now,” she said, her voice softer, sweeter, and infinitely more terrifying.
“Or what? You’ll scream at me in front of your precious club?”
Her mother took a different tactic, ignoring Kelvin and his flaring nostrils.
“What did you to that perfectly lovely dress I gave you? And your hair? It’s blonde!”
“I decided it need a change.”
“You have had enough changes this year, young lady. Now get off of your horse and get down here.”
The place was quiet. She looked to see her brother almost smiling. At least he understood. At least someone understood why she was doing this.