Chapter 7:

The Clothes That Make The Man

She Can't Be That Perfect!!


“Woof.”

That’s Amy’s first reaction upon entering Mia’s bedroom. Not that it’s a bedroom to begin with. The walls are a constellation of medals, ribbons, flower wreaths, all shining the same gold ‘1’ and accompanied by a picture of her vacant smile as she receives the award. The bed is somewhere in the middle of all that, an island of personality, ironed down with a bubble level. Amy doesn’t want to spend a second more here and, thankfully, Mia leads her away from all the dazzle and bling.

She slips between two trophy cases, opening a camouflaged door leading to a dark space, teeming with weird shadows. Amy winces. She’s been in one too many of those today. But when Mia claps her hands, the lights turn on revealing an enormous walk-in closet. It must be bigger than Amy’s entire house and even so, clothes still spill off the racks.

“Okay, first question,” Amy raises her finger.

“No, I never got lost.”

“Cool, cool. Next question, what are we doing here?”

Mia hesitates, drawing a little circle with her foot, “I was thinking we could play a game?”

What game?”

“Ever heard of Dress Me Up, Darling?”

“I’m scared.”

“It’s just me choosing your clothes!” Mia panics. “Then you mine. We’re the same sizes, aren’t we?”

Amy laughs, giving Mia’s chest the subtlest glance. “No way.”

Mia raises a playful eyebrow, “Are you saying I’m flat?”

“What! No? I’m flat like – like tap water! You’re, umm –“

Lowering her head in shame was her mistake. In a blink, Mia leaps forward, brandishing a tape measurer. Before Amy can even chirp, her chest tightens in a thin line, damming her breath. It’s over before she knows it.

Mia smirks, “Just as flat. Like, hmm, spring water? Come! Onto the pedestal.”

Amy climbs onto the pedestal, being greeted by a trio of mirrors reflecting a distorted reality. She examines her reflection, fighting the urge to laugh. She’s not that thin, her face isn’t that round and clear and her hips lack a pronounced curve. Mia follows right behind, drawing a wall of folding screens. Isn’t the door enough? Amy thinks, noting the tiny squeak they give as they slide in place. Maybe it’s part of the game.

With the ‘preparation’ done, Mia turns to Amy. Her lips purse shyly, “All right, ummm, close your eyes?”

Amy’s eyes fly wide, “Yeah, no.”

“Party pooper! It’s the rules!” A small pause. The burst of confidence wanes. She gives Amy a look, disappointed baby blues not even the heartless can refuse. “I’d… feel better if you do.”

“W-why?”

“I’ve… a lot to explain. It’s easier to come clean when no one’s staring.”

Amy nods. She understands that much too well. Her eyes shut.

“I could’ve just taken off my glasses, you know?”

“Good idea,” Mia says, removing them off Amy face, alongside her bonnet.

“Hey, wha –“

“No peeking!” Mia presses a hand over her eyes. “You’re meant to be a mannequin,” she explains. “You only move if I move you. I’ll strip you down then dress you back up.”

“And why can’t I see that?”

Mia swoops right behind her, a timid glee in her whisper, “Because it’s meant to be a surprise.”

Cute. Mia drops to a crouch, working off Amy’s boots before peeling off her trousers. And terrifying. Do her socks have holes? She wriggles her toes, trying to poke them out. The cold air whips her skin. She feels exposed, vulnerable, her knees knotting. And Mia?

“You’re… suspiciously good at this…” Amy mumbles as Mia unbuttons her sweater and guides it off, one sleeve at a time.”

“I’ve got a lot of practice.”

“Ellie?”

A difficult chord. Mia’s puff hits the back of her neck. “No, I… The servants.”

“Isn’t she one of those?”

Her movements slow, words catching at the back of her throat. She passes on her tremble to Amy’s arms as she lifts them to remove the shirt.

“No, she’s… my sister.”

“Younger?”

“Adopted.”

Truth comes out of her leaving long scores along the way, but Amy can’t tell whether she’s ashamed or pained. The Ellie she’s seen is hardly an Astella. She’s a slave, forced to live in closets and wear rags. Her ‘adoption’ was merely a purchase, but then it begs the question: why did her father do it? But it’s a difficult topic to broach. She can hear the whimpers trapped in Mia’s lungs. Best to let it go.

Mia leaves Amy’s side, the scraping of coat hangers and rustle of fabric the only clues to her position. She returns swiftly and with her breathing now level. The game calms her down, but Amy doesn’t know how to feel about it. She’s a wad of putty in Mia’s hands and the feeling carries a foreboding familiarity as well as sparking a strange joy. Amy doesn’t have to think of anything, make no decisions. Her legs go up and down, one after another, then a cotton embrace drapes around them. Mia chuckles softly, like a puppeteer admiring her work.

“Don’t suck in your tummy!”

“But I’m fa–at!”

Mia slaps her stomach. Gently, like a caress, then followed with a pinch.

“You’re fine. Widdle chub is natural.”

“Hush! I knew I shouldn’t have eaten all those nachos.”

“Weren’t they good, though?”

“They were so good, oh my god. Please tell me where you got them.”

“I – don’t know? I think our chef made them before he… left?”

If only Amy could look at her right now, see Mia’s face. There’s only so much emotion tone can carry and the limitation hinders her too much. She wants to know, but without striking any nerves. With a deep breath, she tries.

“Left? As in to a different mansion?”

“No, with my father. He takes most of our indoor staff when he goes on trips.”

“Does that happen often?”

“No,” Mia sighs. “Business tends to come to him. But even abroad, he never truly leaves. I always feel him around,” she laughs, almost a sob. “Like he’s in the walls.”

The cameras. Is that why she had to be snuck around? Mr Astella almost puked at the idea of commoners. Amy doesn’t want to imagine how he’d react to seeing one crossing the hallways of his castle. So Mia had to wait, the once in a blue moon occasion when her dad would be away, when they’d be alone in the mansion and concoct a plan with various fail safes and stages. Just to have Amy here.

She bites her lip. Mia eases her arms through a light fabric with strong seams. The collar is rigid and the shoulders square and a little snug. Is it a dress shirt? Mia turns for a split-second then returns with a ribbon and lets it hang around Amy’s neck. Her midriff’s still exposed, why doesn’t she button it up? She’s been blinded for too long, she needs to see Mia’s face.

“I said no peeking! I’ll tell you when!”

“But I’m cold!”

“You’re a baby! I’m almost done.”

“What’s taking you so long anyway?”

“I’m looking at you,” Mia teases. She’s so close in front of Amy, she can smell her perfume. “You’re so pretty in the right clothes.”

“That sounds extremely backhanded.”

“You have the fashion sense of a housewife! Why are you covering yourself up? You’ve got amazing legs.”

“These crooked logs? I think your eyes are bad, try my glasses on.”

“I think I’ve seen enough models in my life to say you could walk among them.”

“Noooo,” Amy drawls.

“Yeees. You could teach them a thing or two while you’re at it.”

“But… why me?”

“What?”

Amy’s eyes open, seizing Mia’s, draining them of every bit of whimsy and charm. All the compliments, all the effort, all the snacks and films and games. Things she’s never expected because she’s never deserved them.

“Why am I here?”

Mia’s lips tremble. She’s scared, but Amy must know.

“Is this a prank?” she continues.

“N-no, why would you think that?”

“Because…” Amy starts towards Mia as Mia starts away from her. “This feels… too good to be true. I just can’t believe it. Make me believe it, Mia.”

Mia’s back hits the folding screens. She’s got nowhere to go, nowhere to escape the hurt fire in Amy’s glare.

“Tell me it’s because of a joke. Because you wanted to make fun of me.”

“It’s… not.”

“Then you just wanted to show off, make me feel small and insignificant.”

“I would never…”

“You’re not honest.”

“I am!” She shrieks so loudly it has to be true, but it’s not enough for Amy. Nothing is enough.

“Tell me what you really wanted, please…” she begs with choked words.

“I just wanted a friend!”

Mia tries another step back. She tramples the folding screen and it buckles under her weight, making her foot slip. For a moment, she’s in the air, but just for a moment. The whole thing plummets to the ground, wrapping around her, then releasing her. Amy blinks out of her daze. She rushes to Mia’s side, regret scarring her lips. She never wanted this to happen, she never wanted to hurt her.

“Are you… okay?”

Mia nods. She’s crying without tears, almost like she can’t produce any. Amy looks her up and down. She’s not hurt, only scared, because of the fall or because of her, Amy doesn’t know. She opens her mouth, readying an apology, but doesn’t make it through the first word. Mia jerks her head up in remembrance. A frantic mood sets upon her as she pulls out her phone and searches for something. When she finds it, she lights a hue of pride and wish. She points the screen at Amy and beckons her to read.

“How to make friends?” Amy reads the title aloud. Mia gestures her to scroll down. “Look for opportunities to talk to people… Ask about their day… Try physical contact… Comfort them if they’re sad… Invite them over to your house… Find shared interests… Emphasise your good qualities… Compliment… Wow, you followed this very closely.”

“Did it work?” Mia tries. She’s so adorable Amy can’t help it.

She brushes Mia’s hair out of her eyes, “Sure. But… why a listicle?”

“It was Ellie’s idea! But now that I think of it, Hana must’ve gotten to her. Blasted imp…”

“Cool… Not an answer still.”

“Well…” Mia hugs her knees under her chin. “I knew no other way. It’s hardly a lesson to learn when everyone likes you for your surname.”

“Hey, I’m sure being a cute blonde doesn’t hurt?”

“Funny.”

“You didn’t laugh.”

“But I do feel better.”

Mia sighs as if an enormous load has been taken off her chest. She stares at a point on the floor, trying and failing to meet Amy’s gaze. In return, Amy rests her hand on her shoulder. It’s fine. Baby steps.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you ever since Induction Day. After… you know. But with my circumstances and my – ahem – nerves… I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“I’m sorry for making you trip and fall on your butt.”

“I’m sorry for making you feel unwelcome and unworthy.”

“I’m sorry for becoming Monster Amy. There, now we’re even.”

They share a long chuckle and a breath of relief.

“Still… you have literal tons of people who’d kill themselves to say they’ve met you, let alone be your friend. Why this little mess?” Amy points at herself.

“Because… no one’s ever talked to me like this, like we’re doing right now. All those people don’t see me as human. I’m an ideal, a goal, an asset and my friendship is a status or a lifelong ambition. I’m Miss Astella, heiress to everything they know. But to you, I’m just Mia.

“When I found out father was going away, I was determined to invite you over. I was on cloud nine, courage bursting through my skin. But then I met you and I was so awkward; my heart was beating through my shirt. And then… I heard you speak. You were so heartfelt and everything you said just touched me. I felt like you understood every part of me and I just wanted to ask… why?”

“W-what?”

“Why do you understand me?”

“Yeah, why do you understand?”

That voice. Everything hits Amy at once and she doesn’t know how to process it. The warmth in her cheeks. The ticklish carpet. Her exposed bra. The cute sandals next to the door, where Mr Astella awaits an answer. He approaches with levelled steps and Mia jumps to halt him. To no end avail, he passes right through her and stops next to Amy. From up close he is a giant, gaunt and with a jovial air that confuses his imposing aura.

“I asked you something, dear,” he says. It’s terrifying. He sounds like a funny uncle cracking jokes at a family gathering.

“How much have you heard, father?” Mia whimpers.

“Enough to still have questions. What’s your name, sweetie?”

“A-Amélie.”

“Ah, Amélie… No, that won’t do. Do you have a nickname? French names are such a mouthful.”

“Amy…”

“Now that’s more like it. English just rolls off the tongue. Beautiful language. Now then, Amy,” he crouches to her level, all an affable grin, “why do you understand my daughter?”

Her tongue twists in new, unexplored way. “B-because…”

“Aww, look at her, all sweaty and flushed. Where did you find her? She’s cute.”

“T-thank you?”

“You know what would make you cuter? Answering. Twice no you failed. Makes you look avoidant, like you’re seeking ways out of a difficult situation.”

Amy looks to Mia, seeking salvation and finding none there. She’s as distraught as her, years of living with her father having done nothing to prepare her for this moment. He’s drilling Amy and loving it, laughing about it behind those malicious eyes. She’s his clown, his entertainment. Might as well give him something to enjoy, something from the heart.

“Because,” Amy stutters, “I think we’re… the same, she and I.”

Mr Astella closes his eyes, his lips curving to forced lengths. He chews Amy’s words then spits them out with a smirk.

“Hm,” he says. “Hm, hm, hm! Interesting. Mia, thoughts?”

Mia squeezes her eyes shut, gathering all her strength. When she opens them again, her face is ready, her voice almost there.

“I… agree.”

Mr Astella twitches like he’s taken a cannonball to the chest. “Marvellous. Really, wonderful! I never thought I’d find someone like you, Amy. Never! I’m happy. Ecstatic. Ellie!”

“Sir?” Ellie’s voice rings from outside.

“Arrange a limousine to drive Amy back home. Much as I’d want her to stay, I would like to speak to my daughter. Alone. You understand, right Amy?”

“Yes… sir?”

“Superb. Mia, your clothes?”

“She can keep them. They’re a gift.” The gift of getting you the hell out of here.

“Hm… very well,” he nods. “I must say they fit you wonderfully, mwah! Truly Mia’s spitting image.”

Amy can’t deny that. Looking at Mia, they share the same unease. With a quick hand, she buttons up the shirt and leaves. Ellie greets her and wastes no time making her feelings known. It’s like someone in her family has died, but Amy can’t tell which of them is the unfortunate one. They rush out of the mansion, where the limousine, though just summoned, takes almost no time to arrive.

Ellie opens the door for her, closes it when Amy’s inside, then knocks on the window to grab her attention. With a bitten lip, the little girl waves her a warm goodbye. The engine soon purrs to life and, before she knows it, she’s whisked away from The Gilded Castle. She can’t help a glance behind. The front gate’s lions catch the sunlight, like they’re giving her a wink. But there’s no telling whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Not until they meet again, at least.