The shimmering of the bracelet attracted her. It always attracted her. In less than a second, she slipped it in her bag. Just like that, and it was a done deal. She slowly moved towards the exit, past the security system, and waited for it to start beeping. But it didn't. She was out. Virtue Montgomery was never one to seem suspicious. Looks can be deceiving but oh, how true it could be. It's just a phase. I'll stop one day, she told herself, but isn't that what she promised to do for the past two years? Two years. How much she went through. It was the spoiled lifestyle that she was accustomed to, but after the divorce, it was no longer.
"Let's name her Virtue, to wish her goodness and success in life."
Virtue laughed at the irony of that very idea of that memory. She could just imagine her parents at that moment; her mother, smiling jubilantly at her newborn daughter, and her father, subtly pondering about the success she would generate while feigned words of loyalty poured out of his mouth. He only contributed now because of the guilt; the guilt of leaving his family, impoverished and unprotected. But poor, poor Kendra. The thought of her situation could just kill Virtue. But there are so many more materialistic ideas to consume her mind, and she continued on her way out of the mall.
Today was good, she thought, as she went through her bags and surveyed her new items. But there it is again. The guilt. It's okay though, because I'll give back to the community one day, she said to herself. It'll be fine. Virtue walked out into the blazing sun and put on her Chanel sunglasses. Too bad, she thought. The D&G shades were so much nicer, but it was much too deserted in that store. Wouldn't want to risk getting caught.
The image she had built for herself: flawless, wealthy, and absolutely envy-worthy, was much too precious for any secondhand amateur to even attempt to maintain. Who could've ever guessed that her family was broken? That her friendships were utter bullshit? That her very personality was feigned?
Placing the hood from her jacket on her head, she got on the bus, paid, and sat down. If only they knew. Why don't you just drive home, they'd asked. Oh, walking is so much better for your health, she'd responded. As if she had a choice. She looked down, shielding her face from even the slightest glance. In just a few minutes, she stepped off the bus.
Nobody ever visited her in the mansion they imagined she lived in. Nobody would ever dare to ask. She looked around, carefully studying every detail of her surroundings and when it was safe, she put her key in the lock. Her mother was lying on the couch, as if that was a big surprise.
"Mom, I'm home."
"Mm," she responded.
"I'm going to go to work now, mom. I made you dinner. It's in the refrigerator, just like it was yesterday. Just heat it up again. But try to eat it today, okay mom?" Virtue poured her mother a glass of water and placed it next to her. "I love you, mom. I'll be back soon." But how could one love such an indifferent individual? Indifferent to her daughter, indifferent to her nonemployment; her very situation.
And like that, Virtue walked the five blocks to the Lounge, a diner off Fifth and Main streets, where the elderly seem to flock to at their leisure, which is immensely often. Yet another day of taking orders.
Virtue changed back into her normal clothing and smoothed out the wrinkles before walking out of the Lounge. Eight thirty five. She hated walking home in the darkness. It was one of the many things she developed a hatred for throughout the years.
She was with Kendra. Young Kendra was quite a looker; locks of auburn colored hair framed an oval-shaped face, knitted together with nearly flawless features and an athlete's body. They were walking home from the local supermarket and it was dark out, but Virtue was brave, even as a seven year old.
"Put down the items and nobody gets hurt."
The sound of the deep, intimidating voice rose fear in Virtue and Kendra as they froze in their places. Virtue hid behind Kendra as she watched her do the despiscable--handing over her purse and putting down the grocery bag. Tears theatened to fall as the man ran off with their items. Kendra never brought up that incident again, like it never happened. It was the safest thing to do--Virtue knew this--but that day, she had shed part of her innocence and lost her trust in humanity.
Virtue's heels made clickety-clack sounds on the concrete even as she tried to subtly walk home. She was in the parking lot when she heard glass break against the brick wall of the diner. She was paralyzed. Deja Vu had decided to visit.
"Get in the car with me," the man slurred. "You need money? I got money." He started advancing on her, and she did what she always did. Virtue ran. She ran like the wind. Just escape, she thought to herself. Just run and escape from the situation. From the problem. From everything that bothered her even the slightest bit. That's all you need to do because then, everything gets resolved. That's it. Just run.
Virtue only attended English 3 when the mood struck. The analyzation of text was beyond her. The point was already stated and it only took common knowledge to figure out the meaning behind it. Unfortunately, most of the idiots in her class lacked that ability, however rudimentary it was.
On this curious day, Virtue walked into English 3. She cursed the drive behind it but took a seat.
"We're going to go over the methods of writing an English sonnet with a Shakesperean rhyme scheme," barked Mr. Leedin. Virtue scowled at that statement. Fourteen lines, introduced in the 16th century, contains three quadrains and a couplet. Her English 1 teacher had worked it to memory in her freshman year, so why was this being taught in her junior year?
It took over half an hour for the class to understand the lesson and in that time, she had written her own. As the class started the activity, which was, ironically, writing a sonnet, she put her head down on the desk, positioned herself into a comfortable placement, and let her exhaustion take over.
"Miss Kitridge." The sound of her father's surname woke her. Mr. Leedin. Her answer came out as an unattractive groan.
"Huh?"
"Well. We'll just see what you have written."
"All right."
There was a short hesitation after he read it. He raised his brow and sauntered off. Virtue thought nothing of it and continued her nap.
It wasn't as if Virtue didn't want to succeed in life. She just didn't know how. Her mother wasn't in any position to order her around and lecture her about right or wrong as she was supposed to, so Virtue had to learn her morals the hard way. Even then, the rules never quite stuck.
She had to close up tonight, which meant everything was in her hands now. She loved old Mrs. Hansen. She wasn't like other bosses, greedy, selfish, and uncaring. No, she cared about Virtue in ways that her mother couldn't, so Virtue always felt guilty about her betrayal to her. But how else was she supposed to afford luxuries that she was unable to steal? Fifty dollars from the cash register. One day, I'll repay her, she thought. I swear it.
She walked home to her sleeping mother, and went to her room. Virtue wasn't a sad person, but she pitied herself. Opening up her journal, she started to write.
Dear Virtue,
Perhaps I should start reaching my full potential in school. I know I haven't always done so, especially not after my parents' divorce. I dwell in the past too much and I know this, but it upsets me, even after all these years. I have no set goals, no true friends, and a defenseless mother. But what I am truly proud of is my reputation. Human beings can be so clueless sometimes, Virtue. I just need someone to confide in, someone that won't run away after they get to know me.
I wish for a friend.
Virtue flipped through her journal entries. I wish for a friend. It sounded redundant, but eventually, that wish will come true. She's just an optimist in a pessimist's body.
January rolled into February and Virtue found herself closing up to people around her more and more.
"Hello, I'm Virtue. Can I take your order?"
"This is my first time here actually, what do you suggest?" The voice was friendly. Too friendly. Why was he so friendly? Virtue looked up from her pad and their eyes met. He was smiling an easy smile, as if he spoke to strangers kindly on a daily basis. He was beautiful; well-groomed with striking, untamed hair that swept to the left and shadowed his green eyes. Immediately, her mood took a full turn on Unpleasant Ave. and headed straight towards Bitchville. She hated the nice type, especially when they looked like him. She had had enough experience to know that the handsome ones left her the most bitter and God knows she could easily turn into her mother if she let herself open up as she usually did.
"Chicken."
"Chicken what?" There goes that smile again.
"Parmesan."
"Then I'll have that." He grinned as he shut the menu and handed it to her.
Virtue walked away in a trance and hated the fact that she was so easily manipulated by her sudden doses of estrogen.
