The Abominations | Ilvermorny

Chapter 3

My trunk is in the center of my room, decorated with stickers and drawings from first year (when I was excited about school). The once vibrant pink paint now patchy and worn. Years of lugging it to Mount Greylock and back has made it a sight for sore eyes. 

I remember the day I picked it out. Mama brought me to a shop in the no-maj village that sells refurbished antiques and knickknacks. The store is an old converted farmhouse, the walls are the original exposed brick, and, near the back of the store, they have a cluster of old wooden trunks piled on top of each other without order. 

"Choose one." She said. "Remember child, practicality is the utmost important quality we are looking for."

Of course, I didn't listen. My eyes went straight to the bright pink one. 

"It's flimsy wood." Mama protested.

"I don't care."

"What about the one on the bottom? It's large and sturdy and looks very grown up."

"It looks boring."

We argued in the store for at least ten minutes. I knew she wouldn't cave easily, so, I had to pull out the big guns. 

"That is enough! We are getting the one from the bottom and we can paint it pink if you so choose." 

I crossed my arms. "It looks creepy. If I carry it around everyone will think I'm spooky."

"Don't be silly."

"You don't know what it's like! I already look like a deformed grim reaper, the last thing I need is an ugly, unsettling, trunk! You don't get it! You don't listen to me!"

We left the store with my bright pink trunk. 

I open the top drawer of my white dresser that faces my bed and pull out a couple of hair bows. Which one should I wear today? There's a large sparkly pink one, a small pastel pink one, a medium size one that's pastel blue, one that's the exact shade between pink and purple, a small black one, and a thick pink one that's made from ribbon. 

I make my hair into a half high ponytail. Now, which one should I wear? Impulsively, I grab the small pastel pink one and attach it to the front of my hair. Looking in the mirror next to me, I realize that I look like one of those Maltese show dogs. 

Maybe I'm just being hyper-critical. 

My trunk was almost full at this point, only a handful of things left to pack. After squishing some textbooks in, along with the rest of my hair bows, I remember the present Grace had gotten me. She was over a lot this past summer (now I know why), and she always talked about these no-maj makeup products that could change your appearance without the use of spells or magic. 

"It's like a powder, you put it on your face, how have you never heard of it?" She explained while sitting at our kitchen table. 

Before I could make up an excuse, Emil jumped in.

"I told you our private school was secluded." 

Later that week she brought me over a small package of what she called 'blush'. It was pink with some shimmer in it and came with a small applicator brush. 

"You apply it on the apples of your cheeks."

I raised an eyebrow. "Apples? I thought it was for your face."

She looked at Emil who shrugged. 

"Seriously, you guys are weird." 

I have always been envious of Grace, her hair is naturally bright blond and has lovely bouncy curls. Mine will never look like that. She's always tanned, freckled, and carefree. I wish I was her.