Veronica's Virtuous Voice
Kat looked at the title and wondered if she should tell Jess about it. Her friend was always complaining about her squeaky, immature voice. Kat’s eyes scanned the page as she considered. Maybe she should test it out first, to see what it would do before she shared it with her friend…
Veronica was in the vicinity of a visitor to the villa, the very vivacious vocalist Verity. The velvet voice of the visibly voluminous vacationer was vivid and virtuous. Unfortunately, the vain woman vexed Veronica, viciously vehement and vociferous in her vile and venomous views…
When Kat finished, she spoke a few words. Was there anything different about her voice? She couldn’t tell. It might be ever so slightly richer… but maybe that was just her imagination. Her changes in height were very subtle at this point--maybe it would be similar with her voice.
She didn’t have time to experiment any further right now, with ballet in twenty minutes. Kat quickly changed into her leotard, grabbed her ballet shoes and ran downstairs. Her mom was already holding her coat out for her.
“Sorry, Mom, I was busy reading, and I lost track of time…” said Kat sheepishly.
“I swear, dear, if I had a nickel for every time you were running late, I would already have your college fund taken care of,” said her Mom, looking at her with an ostensibly stern expression. Kat could see the fondness in her eyes, though. As Kat grabbed the door to head out to the car, her mother ran her fingers through her long, thick hair, fluffing it a bit.
“You really are blessed with this magnificent head of hair. I’m so glad that you take such good care of it. It looks so vibrant and healthy,” said her mother.
“Thanks, mom!” said Kat. It was rare for her mom to compliment her appearance this way, and she was basking in the feeling as she hopped into the car.
Unfortunately, as she arrived at ballet class, the girls in ballet were less complimentary.
“Hey, look! It’s the redheaded stepchild of the class!”
“Hey, Kat, your head’s on fire! Oh, wait… that’s just your hair!”
Kat ignored the other girls’ barbs as she always did, putting on her shoes, then lining up for barre.
Class proceeded uneventfully until the girls reached the Allégro movement, and they needed to practice fast feet and jumps. Kat stumbled out of the landing and landed hard on her back, the air whooshing out of her as she hit. Long, full, vividly red curls spilled across the hardwood floor. Kat felt color begin to rise from her neck as titters of laughter erupted around her from the other girls.
Vanessa, the worst of them all, was quick to comment.
“I knew that ridiculous mass of hair of yours was good for something! Let me get a bucket of water--this place could use a good mopping.”
Kat’s warm, pleasant feeling from her mother’s compliment before class made the harsh pain of Vanessa’s ridicule all the worse this time, as the crimson patches that colored her cheeks deepened a shade.
Kat rose to her feet and excused herself from class as her teacher glared at Vanessa for her rude comment. She ran to the bathroom, closed the stall door, closed the lid of the toilet, curled her feet up to her chest and began to cry.
Just when she was feeling better about herself, her classmates, especially Vanessa, had to go and ruin it for her. Why couldn’t they just let her have this one day to feel good?
Kat let her tears finish, then wiped them away with her fingers. She took a moment before the mirror to compose herself, then steeled her courage to go through with the rest of class.
That evening, as she ate dinner across from her mother in silence, her mother finally spoke.
“My goodness, Kat! Why are you so glum this evening? You haven’t said two words to me since I drove you home from ballet!”
“I just didn’t have a very good class today. That’s all,” said Kat.
“Well, you know how I feel about you taking ballet, dear. Ballet gives you grace and elegance. Every woman should have those qualities, you know. Of course, you could take choir as well. When you were singing along to the radio, I noticed that your singing voice is rather pleasant.”
“It is?” said Kat, shocked.
Her attention now on it, she did notice a dulcet undertone within her speaking voice that she was reasonably certain hadn’t been there before.
Her Mom gave her a puzzled look as Kat smiled broadly, her gloomy mood evaporated by her sudden realization of another book-given gift.
***
That night, Kat lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. She should be sleeping, but she couldn’t. The events from ballet, the changes to her hair, her height, and her voice, combined to keep her thoughts whirring deep into the night.
Finally, she reached a hand out to turn on her lamp. Her eyes slipped to the book on her nightstand. She gave into temptation and cracked open the large tome just below her underdeveloped chest, idly flipping through the pages as she lay in bed.
Another story caught her eye.
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