The Pretty Girl

By I. Seymour Youngblood

“Pelham, smell ‘em. Pelham, smell ‘em.”
Kids can be so mean. They had been chanting the phrase since kindergarten. Even at five years old Pelham was not a cool kid, and her classmates never let her forget it. She wasn’t good at school, or sports, and definitely not good at talking with boys. That was all before she found the magic mirror that seemed an answer to her prayers. Day after day after day her wishes came true, but at what price? Was she living a dream, or was she wishing herself into a nightmare? The mirror could reveal her heart’s desire, but would she abuse the power before it could transform her into what she always wanted to be...The Pretty Girl?

• Language: English
• Publisher: I. Seymour Youngblood
• Release date: Sep 17, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301684892

I. Seymour Youngblood

Author Dr. I. Seymour Youngblood became obsessed with the macabre early in life. In his youth, he performed experiments on small, defenseless , forcing them to watch episodes of Barney & TeleTubbies for days on end and then documenting which ones cracked first. His findings were published in Lil' Psychopath Quarterly. After college, he applied to YELL! Medical School, where he graduated Magna Scream Loud-y. While psychiatry initially intrigued him, Seymour grew tired of helping people. He asked himself how could he influence children's lives, but for the worse? Naturally, he became a principal. At Pfearville Junior High, home of the Ravens, he documented the oddities he saw everyday & titled his papers "The Raven Archives". These are those tales...

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To my wife, Stephanie, and my daughter, Chandler,

You are the Pretty-est Girls in the World.

The Raven Archives 2

The Pretty Girl

By

Dr. I. Seymour Youngblood

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2013 by Dr. I. Seymour Youngblood

All Rights Reserved.

Chapter 1

Ugly Duckling

"Beauty is power; a smile is its sword."

-John Ray

Pelham, come down here, please.

Pelham was a girl, a very special girl, even if she never felt special. Her name, pronounced Pell-um, was a family name and one that was dear to her mother, but Pelham hated it all the same. There was much about herself that she did not like. She was funny, but no one appreciated her wit. She considered herself smart, but her teacher’s labeled her above average, which never felt like a compliment. And she was pretty, but only in her mother’s eyes. In her own, Pelham saw a hideous swamp monster with freckles, braces, dirty blond hair that never seemed to lie right, and a silly name ripe for ridicule. At thirteen, Pelham was self-conscious and awkward and insecure. She was just like every other girl, yet she did not feel like every other girl.

Pelham, I need you to come down here, Pelham’s mother said in a firmer tone from the base of the stairs.

Pelham pretended not to hear her mother. She lay on her bed staring at the ceiling, wishing her life was all a bad dream. Night after night, she prayed that she would awaken to find her true reality, one where she was in fact the beautiful swan she always envisioned. Her mother promised her one day she would look back on these awkward times and laugh. Pelham doubted such laughter would occur. She could hear her mother’s voice in her head, Pelham, my dear, you are so very, very pretty from the inside out, and you are only going to get more beautiful every day.

That was mom talk. Parents are supposed to say such things. The one opinion that should have mattered the most was the one that echoed the least. Secretly, Pelham loved receiving compliments from her mother. It soothed the blistering burns she received from her peers.

School was the worst. Pelham, the girl with the silly name, was made fun of constantly. Pelham, Smell ‘em was the most common tease, but there were so many more. She was not overly athletic. In basketball, her coach only let her play whenever it was absolutely, positively, without any doubt, unquestioning impossible for the team to lose the game; then she got to play.

One time, Pfearville was playing Devil’s Bend Middle School. Pelham’s coach let her go into the game when there was only three seconds left. She lost the ball out of bounds twice in three seconds—twice. Thankfully, her team was winning by twenty-five points. That incident led to her nickname Pan hands.

Whenever it snowed, the boys in her class would call her Pelt ‘em as they threw snowballs at her. The meaner kids called her Hell ‘em, Smell ‘em.

Pelham, I know you can hear me. Please come down here. I have to go to work.

I have to go to work meant Pelham had to watch her six-year-old sister, Annabelle. Pelham hated watching her little sister. Annabelle was always getting into stuff and running around and being an overall nuisance. Worst yet, Annabelle always wanted to play hide-and-seek and Pelham hated hide-and-seek. Most of the time, Pelham would just let Annabelle hide and Pelham would not seek her out. One time, Annabelle found a super-duper great hiding place. She hid in the back of the neighbor’s truck. That was bad, but the worst part was that the neighbor drove to work and Pelham got into a lot of trouble for not watching her little sister properly. Thankfully, everything turned out fine.

With slumped shoulders, Pelham, the girl with the untamed blond hair and the unusual first name marched down the stairs. Her arms were crossed and her brow furrowed as she glared at her grinning little sister.

Pelham, you’re far too pretty to be wearing such an unattractive expression on your face, her mother said.

No, I’m not, Pelham snapped. If beauty is a rose, then I am a dandelion.

So much drama for a thirteen-year-old, her mother said with a roll of her eyes.

Dandelions are pretty! Annabelle exclaimed.

Exactly, Annabelle. Pelham, you are very pretty. I wish you could see that. Pelham’s mother reached her hand up to Pelham’s cheek, but Pelham pulled away. I’m going to work and I need you to watch your little sister.

Annabelle clapped jubilantly and hollered, Hide-and-seek! Hide-and-seek!

I’m not playing hide-and-seek with you, Pelham grumbled back.

Annabelle jumped back and forth from one leg to the other, all the while chanting, Hide-and-seek! Hide-and-seek!

Pelham’s mother tossed on a scarf and then gave Annabelle a kiss on the cheek. She leaned forward and attempted to kiss Pelham, but Pelham again pulled away. Now Pelham, my dear, I love you very much. You are more special than you know. I wish you wouldn’t act like this.

Pelham waited until her mother turned away before she rolled her eyes

The front door had barely closed before Annabelle said, Hide-and-seek, Pelham. Hide-and-seek! You start counting.

Leaning forward and putting a stern finger in Annabelle’s face, Pelham, the girl with the braces and freckles, said, I said I am not playing hide-and-seek. Do you hear me?

With a grin that stretched the width of her face, Annabelle yelled, You start counting!

Off she went.

"I’m not playing. I’m not going to find you. The only thing I’m going to seek is my headphones and a book and maybe a sandwich."

It was no use. The last thing Annabelle yelled before climbing through the doggy-door was, Start counting, Pelham.

Pelham marched back upstairs. With each step, she huffed under her breath that she was not going to seek her little sister out. Pelham did not care how much trouble she got into; she was tired of wasting every weekend watching her little sister. Even though Pelham had nothing else to do on her weekends, babysitting was less than desirable.

When Pelham reached her room, she immediately turned on her radio and grabbed her headphones. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The girl with the ridiculed name ran her hands through her stringy, sandy blond hair. Ughh, she thought. I should color it or something. Pelham picked up an old R.L. Stine paperback and leaped onto her bed. Grumbling to herself, she vowed that she was not going to seek out her little sister. As she read, her eyes suddenly felt heavy and the power of sleep consumed her. She fought to keep her eyes open, lifting her blinking eyes from the book and to the sunny window. Just about the time her weighty eyelids fell for the last time, Pelham saw Annabelle climbing into the back of Mr. McDougal’s truck.

"Annabelle!" Pelham screamed.

Chapter 2

Hide and Seek

"Children’s games are hardly games.

Children are never more serious than

when they play."

-Montaigne

In an instant, Pelham was down the stairs and out the front door. By the time she reached the porch, Mr. McDougal was pulling out of his driveway.

Pelham waved her hands frantically. Mr. McDougal! Mr. McDougal, stop! He didn’t even look her direction. Still yelling at the top of her lungs, Pelham sprinted toward the