Rachel cleaned a little around the kitchen and the downstairs bathroom. While in the bathroom, she stole a glance at herself in the mirror. Her gold curls were shining even in the dull 60 watt bulbs above the medicine cabinet. She also noticed that, somehow, her face had been completely made-up in pink lipstick, white blush, blue eyeshadow and long, silky black eyelashes. She wet her fingers, then rubbed her cheeks and lips. She couldn't so much as smear the makeup.
Deciding not to dwell on the matter further until her duties were finished, Rachel went into the living room. As she walked, she noticed her knees felt a bit stiff, but on top of all her other concerns she didn't find it worth fretting over.
Rachel saw that her mother had put all the chairs on the first floor into a circle in the living room. Everything seemed ready for the craft club meeting...except for the food Rachel had brought from the store. Rachel busied herself with cutting up some veggies and cheese, trying not to wonder why her mommy was taking so long.
As she worked, she realized that not only did she lack the strength she usually had, but her hands and arms felt stiffer. It wasn't an achy stiffness like when she got sick, though. It was as if some kind of force was acting against her muscles. She finished arranging an appetizer tray with carrot and celery sticks, broccoli, cucumber, cheese and crackers. She hefted the full 2 liter bottles of soda and juice onto the counter and laid out some glasses. She expected the stiffness to ease as she continued working, but to her mounting dread it only seemed to be worse.
A knock on the door snapped Rachel out of her concern, and replaced it with a bubbly joy that her mommy had come back. Rachel didn't think to ask herself why she would knock on the front door instead of just opening it and walking in. She forced her legs to walk down the front hall and opened the door. Against her better judgment, she let loose a preemptive greeting of "Mommy!"
Rachel stepped back in surprise. It wasn't her mommy, but rather Mrs. Richmond, one of her mother's best friends. Nervously, Rachel curtsied, raising the folds of her dress as she tucked in a brief bow. "Hello, Mrs. Richmond."
"My stars, is that you, Rachel?" Mrs. Richmond was understandably astonished to see her like this. "You look incredible! Are you putting on a play or something?"
"I...well, I..." Rachel stammered, wanting to explain but knowing there wasn't much chance of Mrs. Richmond believing the truth.
"Hello, Penelope," Rachel's mother said, joining her friend on the front stoop. "Come on in. You're the first one, as usual."
"Yes, well I almost didn't make it," Mrs. Richmond said, entering the living room. "That old car is on its last legs. I might need to use your jumper cables. But do tell, what's possessed you, girl," she turned to Rachel, "Wearing that wig and that dress? All these years you've been a near tomboy."
"Possessed is a close enough word," Rachel's mother answered. "Rachel got a package today. Something that smelled like those perfumes they sell at the thrift store. She got it on herself and...changed."
Mrs. Richmond adjusted her glasses. "You don't mean--?"
"We think it was a magic potion," Rachel said. Her sweet voice sounded a touch gentler, softer, despite her inner concerns. "Did you find the bottle, Mommy?"
"Yes, it's right here," her mommy said, holding it up. "But it's totally empty...not a drop nor scent. As if nothing was ever in it."
"Doesn't sound like any perfume I've ever used," Mrs. Richmond chimed in. "Those scents linger forever."
"You seem to be taking this in stride, Penelope."
"Hrmm," Mrs. Richmond frowned, looking at Rachel while tapping her chin. Something was playing across her mind. "I suppose I am. Funny, that. But Rachel, dear, you look so magnificent. I do say, adorable. We must take advantage of this situation."
"Advantage?" Rachel lightly chirped. "What do you mean, Mrs. Richmond?"
"Rose, I think we should include Rachel in our activities today. Why, the precious thing could help model for Sylvia. The Easter dress she's making for her daughter? Rachel appears the same size."
"That does sound like a good idea," Rachel's mom said. This made Rachel's eyebrows rise. Her mom couldn't possibly be considering... "Rachel, you wouldn't mind, would you?" She was. And Rachel did mind quite a lot.
In her small voice Rachel said "Please, Mommy, I don't want to. We need to find out where that powtion came fwom... frr...fwwww..." Her words were changing again, now with a childish lisp invading them.
"Rachel, the meeting will only be a few hours. And it's about time you included yourself in our group. It will be a good change of pace for you."
Rachel stared at her mother in disbelief, although she doubted disbelief was the expression on her face at that moment. She wanted to object, to stamp her foot or scream or something. But growing ever stronger in her mind was the idea that her mommy should be obeyed at all times. If Rachel wanted her mommy to help her, she'd have to do everything her mommy says.
"Owkay," Rachel answered with a voice even quieter than before...a voice she could no longer keep under control. "Wachel pway with Mommy's fwends, but Mommy pwomise to help Wachel get back to nowmal."
"I promise, sweetie," her mommy answered with a smile. Even though it meant putting Rachel through hours of possible torment, just seeing that smile on her mommy's face made Rachel fill with unimaginable joy. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad...as long as she did everything she could to keep her mommy smiling.