Charming's Star

By @L-R-Battista
Charming's Star

This is the story of Delilah Letters, a nineteen-year-old college student. She aspires to be a screenwriter or director and dive into her imaginary worlds. However, life has other plans. After all, nothing really goes as planned. This is a short story right now, but it might become a long story. I know the description is vague but give it a chance. Hope you enjoy, L-R-Battista Side Note: I do not own the cover, it belongs to its rightful owner whom, I thank for creating such beautiful art.

Chapter 11

Something Beautiful

 Four Days Later…

  Beauty and Beast was amazing. Emma Watson was perfection as Belle and the music was spectacular. Sara and I movie hopped in order to see it again. I swore to myself that when it came out on DVD, I would buy two copies. One to frame in my room and the other, obviously to watch over and over again.

  Not to mention the various Beauty and Beast merchandise I  found on Facebook and screenshotting. Hopefully someday when I am not broke from paying for college and living expenses, I would be able to purchase some of it. 

  After all, I swear, Belle is me; “With her nose stuck in a book and always with a far-off look” and wanting more than this “provincial life”. The only difference is the fact that there is no beast in my life, at least not one with matted fur and sharp claws. My beast is something bigger, something that cannot be put into words. At least, not now.

  Anyway, Sara was lucky that I adored Beauty and the Beast or I would still be angry at her. At least, that’s what I told her. In all honesty, though, I probably couldn’t stay mad at anyone for long. I can be hurt for a while, but anger wasn’t really my thing.

   I am the peacemaker of the group, after all. The next day, I met Becky for lunch at the main cafeteria on campus and she treated me to lunch. I don’t think I heard someone say, “I’m sorry”, so much in my life. She told me she was just having “so much fun” and when she saw the man selling weed, she knew she had to try it. I just shook my head at her and asked her what it was like. She said that colors seemed to burn brighter and that she felt lighter.

   What stuck out to me most was when she said, “When the sun was rising that morning, I couldn’t tell where the heavens ended and the earth began,” and I found that inspiring but oddly familiar. Turned out that she got it for Forest Gump that was playing on Sara’s plasma screen TV. Becky also tried to encourage me to try it next time but I adamantly refused.

    Drugs just seemed like a bad idea. Unless you’re using it for medical reasons, but for pleasure, it was almost like a poison. A great erosion to the mind. Not like Becky listened, however. She beats to her own drum and all I could do was be her friend.

   I told them both about Ryan’s party (leaving out my personal encounter with him) and asked if they wanted to go. Immediately, they were suspicious but I told them I wanted a “real party experience” with my best friends and both of them caved, naturally. 

  Becky, after all, was still looking for her hot lacrosse player. However, they made me promise that I would let them give me a makeover because they said I looked like an art teacher. I mentioned that I was the daughter of an art teacher but I had already lost this battle and reluctantly agreed.Finally, Friday rolled around and I was swirling mess. Finals were coming up and I had a final portfolio for my screenwriting class that I hadn’t finished and I had almost no time. Mom wanted me to come home and make dinner for her and her “boy-toy” who she told was named Chris. 

  I had a date with Carlos tonight and was a nervous wreck, trying to figure out to wear. He said to wear something nice but casual. However, I have no idea what that meant. I wasn’t sure if that meant jeans were acceptable or if I should be wearing something fancier. After an hour, I called Becky and begged her to help me. We stood in front of my closet while she sorted through my clothes, muttering to herself.

   “When was the last time you went shopping?” she exclaimed.

    I shrugged, “I think junior, maybe senior year.”

   “Really, because some of this stuff is clearly from like 2008 or something,” she complained.

   “It can’t be that bad,” I chuckled but she sent me a glare and I swallowed hard.

It must be bad but I did go to Catholic school for twelve years, wearing a uniform, so what did she expect from me?

      “Luckily, I brought some of my clothes,” she finally sighed turned to her bag and throws a flowy white shirt with bell bottom lace sleeves.

     “Wear your skinny jeans and red converse with this,” she commanded and I sighed and walked into my bathroom. Quickly, I stripped my clothes and threw the pants and shirt on. I glanced in the mirror and was pleasantly surprised that I actually liked the outfit. 

Usually, Becky was tastefully riskey with crop tops and low cut tops but she had given something that actually looked good and fit my prude tastes. I smiled at myself at my reflection and I skipped out.

      “It’s perfect, thank you” I breathed.

      Becky smiled, “What are friends for? Now, come here. I’ll do your hair and makeup.”

     I complied and sat on my desk chair and she started to braid my hair.

     “Thank you for doing this,” I murmured closing my eyes as she intertwined strands of my golden hair.

    “It’s really not a problem Lia. However, how come you didn’t tell me earlier you are going on a date?” she asked.

    “Cause he works at a liquor store and in order to get him to help me find the liquor for my brother’s party, I had to go on a date with him. Therefore, I don’t really consider it a date,” I answered.

    “Oh, is he at least cute?” she inquired.

    I sighed. Of course, that’s what she cares about.

    “Yes but I am not sure if he is up to your standards. You have high standards,” I replied opening my eyes and staring straight into the mirror attached my dresser.

    “I do not,” she protested and I gave her a look and she sighed.

    “Fine, I am a little particular. But there’s nothing wrong with that!” she defended.

     I laughed.

    “I know that being particular isn’t bad but your mostly particular about looks and looks are not everything,” I argued, cracking my knuckles.

    “Please don’t give that beauty is found within ********,” she complained.

    “It’s not ********. It’s true.” I muttered, crossing my arms.

She finishes braiding my hair and ties a hairband tightly around it to keep it in place. Then, she picks up a tan tube of some sort. A type of foundation I think.

    “Ok, so meet a really nice guy who is really ugly, you will go out with him?” she demanded.

    “Yes, of course,” I stuttered.

    “Liar, you like an attractive man as much as I do,” she laughed.

    “Whatever makes you sleep at night,” I say and she laughed so hard, her light blue eyes began watering.

    “You are so stubborn, now close your eyes” she ordered and I obeyed, my eyes flipping closed.

    “I’m not really that stubborn you know,” I mumbled.

    “Really, then why don’t you admit why you really want to go to Ryan McNight’s party?” she questioned and I felt my face heat up. 

Great, just great. I just practically gave myself away.

     “I already told you that,” I gritted out, trying to reign in my blush and my rapid heartbeat. ****, hormones. ****, feelings. ****, me.

     “I know and its ********. We could go to any other party but you choose his. Not to mention, you have to be invited to attend,” she said and I gasped. 

You could only go to Ryan McNight’s party if you’re invited?

I almost choked on my own spit and coughed loudly. However, I said nothing.

    “C’mon, I’m your best friend. Please tell me,” Becky whined and I groaned but gave in.

    “Fine, I ran into him at my brother’s party and we started talking. He said he wanted to be my friends and invited me as a start of our friendship.” I stated, waiting for the squeal.

     Not even a heartbeat later, Becky squealed like a pig and shouted, “OH MY GOD! HE WANTS TO BE FRIENDS WITH YOU! THIS COULD BE THE START OF SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL!”

     “Something beautiful, really?” I sassed.

     Becky paints some eyeshadow on my eyes, “Isn’t it obvious? He likes you! Ryan McNight!” She squeals again and draws eyeliner on my eyes.

    “Likes me as an acquaintance, as a friend,” I corrected, clenching my hands.

     “Ryan McNight would not talk to you for so long or personally invite you to his party if he didn’t like, like you!” she argued,

     I slapped a palm to my forehead mentally.

    “How do you know we talked for a long time? I never said that!” I exclaimed.

    “You just admitted it, smarty!” Beck cooed.

    I groaned, “Don’t most people have long talks with their friends and personally invite them to their parties?”

    “Not Ryan McNight. He is a different breed of human on its own,” she responded.

   “Don’t be ridiculous. He makes friends the same way we do,” I protested. 

It was illogical to think he would want to be anything other than friends, after all, I mean, he hardly knew me.

   “That may be true but if he wanted to be friends, he didn’t need to spend all night alone with you,” she countered and sighed.

   “I feel like we’re going in circles,” I stated.

   “Just admit that I am right,” she demanded.


   “Fine, be in denial. But, don’t yell at me when I told you so. Now open your eyes,” she said.

   I complied.

Becky coated my eyelashes with clear mascara and placed a light pink stain on my lips and then moved to look through my jewelry. I stared at myself in the mirror and smiled. I certainly didn’t look like my every day, eyeliner kind of girl, but you could still see me. It was perfect, but it wasn’t one of those cliché’s in which you don’t recognize yourself. No amount of makeup could really change who I am.

   “Thank you so much, Becks. I owe you,” I said as she comes back with my usual bracelets and my silver butterfly earrings.

   “Don’t sweat it, Lia. Now, put these on!” she commanded, clapping her hands.

    I placed the earring and bracelets on and stood.

   “You look stunning, beautiful, like a goddess,” she gushed.

    I laughed, a pink blush covering my cheeks.

    “Thank you,” I whispered and twirled around so she could take pictures to add to her Instagram.

Becky was in school for engineering but her true passion was makeup and costumes. Not that she didn’t like engineering, but it was much more of a solid career than going to a school for makeup. Sometimes going for your passion is too dangerous but I was always the risk-taker so I am going for film and communication.

   “What time is Carlos picking you up?” Becky asked, interrupting my train of thought.

    “I think eight,” I replied, double checking his text.

He texted me the other day saying he was taking me out to dinner but where was apparently a surprise. I wasn’t sure then if I liked surprises, but it’s not like I had any choice.  

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