Clara Marie:
Tonight was the Duke's ball. As soon as the sun rose, the house became a flurry of activity. Martha shouted commands to three different maids as they scurried back and forth, grabbing dresses, pins, oils, powders, and shoes. I had to try on gown after gown, shoe after shoe. Christabel pinned up my hair this way and that way until Martha was satisfied. After several hours of makeup applications and attempts to tame my wild hair, we finally settled on an outfit. 

I wore a purple ballgown which was off the shoulders with tassels and lace everywhere. My hair was in a low chignon parted down the middle, with the front section down in barley curls. I had on a matching pearl necklace and earrings, and wore tiny heels that pinched my feet. After several more hours of fixing small details here and there and having my scalp poked and prodded to make the hairdo better, I was deemed ready. Martha began sniffling and vigorously dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

"My child is all grown up," she cried. "You're a young lady! How did time fly so quickly?" 

I gingerly reached out and patted Martha's shoulder. She smiled through her tears, but then her eyes widened in horror when she saw my gloves.

"Oh, no! Your gloves have gotten powder on them from my shoulders! Oh, dear, oh, dear!" 

Sighing, I dusted off my hands. The powder came off in large poofs, and when I inspected the gloves closer, they looked clean again.

"See! It's fine!" I exclaimed, eager to leave.

Martha grabbed my hands and inspected them. 

"All right..." she agreed, still a bit doubtful.

"I must go!" I said, practically running out of the room before she noticed more possible tweaks and changes to be made. I rushed down to the carriage, ignoring Martha's shouting that,

"Proper ladies don't run! Slow down this instant!" 

Passing by a table in the hallway, I quickly opened the drawer and grabbed a container of green powder. I had discovered that when there was a tedious event that I really did not wish to attend, ducking into the bathroom and putting the powder on allows me to fake sickness and leave early. However, I used the trick sparingly, so no one would catch on. I had nightmares about how Stepmother would react and how disappointed Papa would be. 

I continued rushing down the hallway, tucking the powder into my Chatelaine bag, hidden among the folds of my dress. I slid to a stop in front of the carriage, my heels making a screeching noise across the icy ground. Pausing for a moment, I checked over my dress, hair, and posture, making sure it would be up to par with Stepmother's standards. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door to the carriage and smiled brightly. I grasped the footman's hand and gracefully climbed in. I took a seat opposite them and smoothed my ballgown. Papa looked relieved that I was going with them without protest--but a bit worried like he thought I was up to something. Stepmother seemed very suspicious of me, raising an eyebrow when I exclaimed,

"Oh, I am so excited for this ball! I simply can't wait!" 

Perhaps the second part was too much. I really can't wait, because if I pretended to be ill and left, I would have a whole evening to myself--which was very rare. It seemed that there was now always some event we had to attend because Papa was a famous artist. That, or I had some lesson on etiquette or manners because of Stepmother. I didn't know what exactly I'd do during my free time. Maybe slide down the banisters as I used to before Stepmother came along? I couldn't believe my father was marrying her after Christmas. It seemed so soon. Too soon. It has always been just Papa and me, living in small apartments before his artwork became famous and rich people started offering enormous sums for it. And then my life became full of fancy dresses, etiquette lessons, and gossip. I was glad everyone loved Papa's paintings, and I liked being warm at night with no water leaking through the roof when it rained. I also loved the fancy food we ate now. I just I could still act and dress as I did before. And I wished that he wasn't marrying Stepmother. I couldn't tell anyone this, or everyone would think of me as an ungrateful brat. Which I supposed I was. I spent the rest of the carriage ride listening to Stepmother's complaining how the lace on her dress is the wrong pattern, and that her gloves should be satin, not silk. Very fulfilling conversation indeed. 

Pulling up to the Duke's house, I immediately noticed a problem. All the dresses were blue. None of them were purple. Glancing at Stepmother, I saw that she was also wearing a blue dress. Looking back at the house, I still didn't see any dresses in any other colors. I started panicking.

"Stepmother, was there a...color scheme for tonight?" I asked.

"Oh, yes. Ladies in blue, gentlemen in black suits with blue cravats and shirts. Why?" She glanced over at me, and her eyes widened.

"Is that...purple?"

"Yes, if you didn't realize until now, my dress is purple. Why didn't you tell Martha there was a color scheme?"

"Oh, I suppose it slipped my mind. Just, um, hide in the background, or sit on the sides?" 

I clench my hands and breathe. I reminded myself, Stepmother couldn't suspect a thing if I wanted this to go as smoothly as possible.

"I can find a corner to watch from. I have been feeling a bit under the weather today, I don't know if I would have been up to dancing." 

Spreading the seed of my lies is far too easy. Papa immediately looked concerned, and Stepmother subtly moved away from me and covered her mouth. 

As we entered, I heard whispers following me. We all greeted the host, and Stepmother and Papa began to dance, much to Papa's dismay (He is not the most adept dancer, to put it kindly). I drifted off to a hallway outside the ballroom, and hovered in the doorway, waiting for the right opportunity to execute my plan. I saw Stepmother and Papa head over to the refreshment table, and I ducked behind the doorway and took out the green powder. As I was about to open it, I heard my name.

"Clara Marie is such a wild thing. Did you see what she was wearing? A purple dress! When we were all supposed to wear blue!" 

It was two old women, gossiping.

"She sticks out like a sore thumb, so defiant and unruly. And she always looks so angry, not like a proper lady at all." the second woman agreed. 

"Yes, although I suppose I could understand, after what happened with her mother." 

My breath caught when I heard my mother mentioned. I knew so little about her.

"Yes, imagine having a mother who abandoned you after birth. So terrible," the first woman said.

The glass container slipped out of my hand, shattering on the floor. The powder went everywhere. I dashed out from behind the doorway and sprinted through the ballroom, the two old crones gawking after me. Heads turned as I pushed my way through dancing couples. I ran past the entrance and out the door. It slammed behind me, probably causing more whispers in the ballroom. I paused there for a moment, gulping the cold air. Then I began running again. Down the street, winding my way through businessmen strolling down the street and children running around. 

I ran until I reached the poor section of town, where I used to live. Here, my ballgown caused even more attention. When I paused for a moment, gasping and panting, tears running from my eyes, some small children gathered around me, reaching out to touch the fine material of my dress.

"Here," I said, taking off my jewelry, and handing it to them. I didn't want it anyway. The pearl necklace my father bought. I didn't want it. He lied to me about my mother. How could he? And why would my mother abandon me? Was I such a horrible child? I left the shocked children with their new riches and began walking. 

Suddenly, someone shoved me into a gap between two tenements. I screamed as they pushed me against the wall, falling to the ground. They traced the wall in a strange pattern, and it began glowing. I tried to get up again, but the cursed ballgown made it difficult. They shoved me into the wall again, but this time I went through it. Suddenly, I was flying through a tunnel of multicolored lights, and I heard myself screaming. The pull of the tunnel made me dizzy, so dizzy I could hardly think. My head felt funny too, and my vision started to go dark. As I closed my eyes, I saw a girl in strange clothes fly by. A girl who looked just like me.