YA Reader Appreciation Blog Hop--Woman Crush Wednesday

Welcome Kate Jarvik Birch to the blog to introduce us to Ella from Perfected.

Ella, was bred to be the perfect pet. She was raised to put her masters’ happiness before her own. In return, she was promised a perfect life, one of idle luxury, one of comfort and stability, but ultimately a life that didn’t truly belong to her.

At first, Ella’s new life at her masters’ house seemed charming. Her owners surrounded her with beautiful things: fancy cars, expensive houses and fine clothes. It wasn’t until she found herself falling for Penn, her master’s son, that her perception of the world began to shift. Her world might have appeared perfect from the outside, but it was only a veneer.

Excerpt:

“Remember. You’ll never be one of them,” Miss Gellner said, repositioning each of us on our divans in the sitting room so our gowns draped elegantly around our crossed ankles.

She stepped back and gazed at the group of us, her face pinched and stern like always, but I spotted a tiny glimmer of pride behind her rheumy eyes. Twenty girls, all lovely, demure , quiet. She was pleased with us, even if she wouldn’t say it out loud.

Miss Gellner blinked, as if bringing herself back to the moment. “Things won’t change once you leave here,” she went on. “Simply because you’ll be pampered and spoiled, your life’s mission won’t suddenly be any different. Remember that. Your sole purpose is to enrich the lives of your new owners.”

As she said this, she lightly tapped her bamboo training stick against my back, not a hard whack the way she had done relentlessly when we first transferred from the Greenwich Kennels to the training center, where she and her staff could cultivate us into the sort of girls we were bred to be. This was just a warning tap, reminding me to sit so that my spine was a stem, and I was the flower resting atop it.

It was a pose we’d practiced daily for the past four years, during our Music and Etiquette and Dining lessons, even during our nightly baths. But the fluttering in my stomach distracted me, drawing me down  into myself. My whole body felt fluttery—my hands, my feet, even my eyes. I worried that the moment the two grand doors leading to the reception room swung open, I might flap away; a feather caught in the wind.

Next to me, Seven bit nervously at her bottom lip. It was weird to think that by tonight she’d have a new name, a real one. The breeders at Greenwich assigned us numbers as names at conception: One through Twenty, since twenty was the maximum number of girls they were allowed to have each year. I was Eight, but not for much longer. By tonight, I could be anything.

Across the room, Miss Gellner took a few steps toward the grand wooden doors, resting her hand lightly on the knob before she turned to face us one last time.

“I want you to keep your composure when they come in. I’ve spent four years preparing you for this moment.” She thumped her training stick on the ground for emphasis. “Four years. Don’t waste them. Each move that you make, every turn of your head and pout of your lips, speaks to my effectiveness as a trainer, and I won’t have that work tarnished. When I open these doors, I expect you to remember all the things I’ve taught you.”

The stiff lining of my dress rubbed against my rib cage and I ached to shift to a more comfortable position , but I held still, staring straight ahead at Miss Gellner with a soft smile placed carefully on my lips.

“Be sure to hold your tongues,” she continued. “You are not doing the selecting. Do not ask questions. Speak if spoken to, but keep your answers brief. We don’t want  to scare away a potential buyer with a girl who has too forward a notion of who’s in charge.”

Beside me, the other girls sat silently. We were perfectly trained, all of us. And lovely, too. In our new dresses, we looked like royalty. Miss Gellner had picked out a different shade of gown for each of us, our first piece of clothing that was distinctly ours. She’d deliberated long and hard on the color choices. She wanted us each to look different. It wouldn’t do for the customers to think they were getting cloned girls even though there were plenty of differences between us to set us apart. Yes, we all had large eyes, spaced perfectly on our heart-shaped faces. We all had small noses, long, thin necks, and rose petal lips. But we each had distinct coloring. Seven’s hair was nearly black. Sixteen’s eyes were green, the color of fresh summer grass, and Twenty’s skin was the same warm brown of the toasted bread that we were rewarded with on Sunday mornings. We were each unique. One of a kind.

I was happy with the dress Miss Gellner had chosen for me. It was the palest shade of blue, hardly a color at all. These dresses would be the only item that would accompany us to our new homes. Our new owners would provide everything else.

“We’re lucky to have a number of congressmen and senators here today,” Miss Gellner said. “Power, prestige, wealth—you’ll be surrounded by the best, which is why it is important that you be the best.” Miss Gellner sighed, nodding her head once. “All right girls. It’s time.” 

Kate Jarvik Birch is a visual artist, author, playwright, daydreamer, and professional procrastinator. As a child, she wanted to grow up to be either a unicorn or mermaid. Luckily, being a writer turned out to be just as magical. Her essays and short stories have been published in literary journals including Indiana Review and Saint Ann's Review. She lives in Salt Lake City, Utah with her husband and three kids. To learn more visit www.katejarvikbirch.com

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