The Golden Corset Read online

  BY D. GOLDEN CONLIN

  For my mother,

  who was

  excited

  to read every

  newly written chapter.

  The Golden Corset

  Copyright © 2020 by D. Golden Conlin

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Big Golden Publishing

  www.biggoldenpublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents

  are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events

  is purely coincidental.

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-7347740-1-6

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-7347740-0-9

  CONTENTS

  DEDICATION

  COPYRIGHT PAGE

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1: How Many Times A Day Can I Cry?

  Chapter 2: Nightmare or a Dream Come True

  Chapter 3: Perks and Jerks

  Chapter 4: One Word: Chemistry

  Chapter 5: Too Many Emotions!

  Chapter 6: True Bliss

  Chapter 7: Am I Crazy or in a Crazy Situation?

  Chapter 8: Food and Metamorphosis

  Chapter 9: Isn't Change Supposed to Be a Good Thing?

  Chapter 10: Beauty—It's Great, It's Not Great, It's Kind of Great

  Chapter 11: The Old Sarah Didn't Used to Get Any Compliments

  Chapter 12: The Forest Brand

  Chapter 13: A Kiss Doesn't Tell You If Someone Is Friendly

  Chapter 14: Introspection

  Chapter 15: Is the Grass Really Greener on the Other Side?

  Chapter 16: The Swimming Daze

  Chapter 17: Finally Free

  Chapter 18: Butterflies, Bumble bees, or Fireflies?

  Chapter 19: Agency

  Chapter 20: Stand Up and Run!

  Chapter 21: The Gray Dance

  Chapter 22: The Illuminated Camp Circle

  Chapter 23: Confession Can Be Good

  Chapter 24: I Am Good

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  1. HOW MANY TIMES A DAY CAN I CRY?

  I was panting and heaving, gasping for air. The hot sun scalded my skin as I unwillingly moved my feet toward the white finish line. Yes, yes, I was almost there—just a few more steps. Done!

  I threw my hands in the air as victory tears streamed down my face. I had successfully finished a mile.

  "Not so fast, Sarah Johnson," Mr. Kick called as I turned to exit through the track gate.

  "What?" I said breathlessly, my eyes squinting from the sunlight.

  "You still have one more lap to go."

  "What? No!" I practically screamed, foolish tears stinging my cheeks. "I ran four laps; there must be a mistake!"

  "There's no mistake, Johnson. My stopwatch says it's only been ten minutes; it usually takes you around fourteen or fifteen minutes to complete a mile."

  "But I ran really fast today," I protested.

  "Hah! Likely story. Nobody improves their mile time by five minutes. Go on, run another lap."

  I felt my tears resume their waterfall down my cheeks. I wanted to fall to my knees and throw my head into my hands, sobbing, shaking my shoulders convulsively like those beautiful princesses did in movies after losing a lover, only I knew I wouldn't look like those damsels in distress. I would look like a distressed squirrel, quickly gnawing down walnuts in fear of a nearby predator.

  "All right," I conceded, whimpering, forcing my dead-weight legs to pad against the rubber track.

  I was so exhausted; I thought I would pass out. And then the thought occurred to me: What if I did pass out? And an ambulance had to come and take me away on a stretcher? The doctor would diagnose me with some rare disease, and that misogynistic Mr. Kick would be to blame. The school would fire him for child abuse, and I would be on my deathbed coughing. Students would pour into the room to surround my bed, hold hands and sway, singing songs in commemoration of the beautiful life I had lived. My life's tragedy.

  Okay, it was a stupid thought. I obviously knew my fantasy would never happen, but it sure made the time fly by while I ran under the oppressive sunshine's unrelenting heat.

  Why was the sun so hot in California during the middle of May? Why was I forced to live in the sunshine state—or is that Florida? I didn't bother to worry my mind over it; all I knew was that my body was aching and felt like I was racing through the Sahara.

  I coughed, wheezing, my lungs searching for air, but I couldn't seem to find any. I gulped and cleared my throat, coughing once more, when suddenly I felt a glob of mucus escape my throat. Ew, gross—GROSS! It was hanging outside of my mouth now, flailing, wiggling uncontrollably like a newborn serpent. Time to take you out of this cruel world! I exclaimed to the metaphorical serpent and wiped away the drool tail from my lips. Ah. Much better.

  Suddenly my eyes widened as I saw the finish line. I was so close now! But wait—where was the class? Where was Mr. Kick? They were all leaving! I couldn't possibly be the only one left on the track. I looked behind my shoulder and saw only two other students, and they were just walking. They weren't even jog-walking like I sometimes did. Humiliation overtook my soul. Teachers weren't supposed to leave students. Great, now I was starting to feel the waterworks begin again. Stupid tears. Why did I always cry so easily? Maybe I was a sprinkler in my past life—or a slug, slow and moist.

  Shamefully, with my head bent down and tears streaking my presumably rosy cheeks, I made my way into the cafeteria. Randomly, I imagined I was Belle from Beauty and the Beast. The Beast had just told me I could never see my father again, and now I was deeply sorrowful. Oh, wretched world! I wanted to curse, but no—I had to humbly submit to the Beast's request, so I kept my eyes trained on the floor, avoiding the gazes of my classmates. Their pressing eyes and their laughter tried to goad me into looking up, but I would not let them; I would not let them!

  "Oh, sorry for bumping into you," I said automatically.

  Was this a fortuitous coincidence? Had I just bumped into the hottest guy in the school? It couldn't possibly be . . . Nope. After glancing up, my eyes dropped back down to the floor. For a millisecond, I thought I'd bumped into Clyde Carter, a hunky senior I had been crushing on since forever. But no; it had just been Mrs. Frankfert, the shockingly tall biology teacher who looked like she had a nest of spider eggs up her nose. I shouldn't judge her, though; nose hair is a huge issue for some people. Actually, I almost felt sorry for Mrs. Frankfert. Perhaps her persistently growing nose hairs were a huge insecurity, and maybe she cried every night using tweezers trying to pluck those atrocious, gossamer strands, but all they did was rebelliously grow back! No! I couldn't judge the poor elderly woman who was worthy of sympathy.

  "Sorry, Mrs. Frankfert," I continued. "Really, I should be apologizing to you. Honestly, it was my fault for—"

  But before I finished speaking, I glanced up and saw the lanky instructor striding away, ten paces away from where I was standing.

  I suddenly realized that everyone around me was laughing, their loud noise undoubtedly mocking me, ridiculing me for my heinous blunder. Stupid. Stupid! I felt my cheeks flush red.

  But wait—no, nobody was laughing at me. They were actually absorbed in their own conversations. In fact, now that I was really looking, it didn't look like anyone was paying attention to me at all. Obviously, that was because I was an invisible freak.

  Taking a deep, recollecting breath, I straightened my stance and elegantly strode to my opulent lunch table. There at my round table, I was greeted by my knights, my loyal subjects, my close confidants, my three musketeers: Renna, Tanaya, and Ellie. Okay, we weren't actually best friends or really even that close. Honestly, I didn't think they even really liked me that much. Fortunately, they didn't think I was a hot mess, either. They tolerated me, let me sit with them. However, it sometimes felt like they were in their own exclusive club, and I was just the warm body that filled the fourth seat at their bland table.

  Since first grade, Renna, Tanaya, and Ellie had all been best friends. They incessantly reminisced about how they had loved to play dress-up and pretend they were ponies. Apparently, they had even assigned each other names: Renna's name was Rony the pony, Tanaya was Tony the pony, and I was pretty sure that Ellie was Boney the pony—Boney because the shrimp looked so petite. How I wish I had her slender frame. The strange thing was, though, I wished even more that I could have been in their first-grade class. What would our friendship have been like today if I had grown up with them instead of living eleven years of my life in freezing Wisconsin? If I had been in their first-grade class, however, what pony name would I have had?

  Baloney the pony, I thought miserably, taking a bite of my crumpled meat sandwich.

  "Ohmigosh, I am so overwhelmed. My mom wants me to start meeting with a tutor, so I can retake the ACTs and get a perfect score, but after school I have swimming, ballet, and then when I get home, I have to practice the piccolo for an hour. There is not enough time in the day! And now I am stressed about the Summerfest dance; I still don't have a dress to wear," Renna lamented, raking her fingers through her short, strawberry-blonde hair.

  "Why don't you j
ust buy that lilac dress that Tanaya and I picked out for you last Saturday; it's all the rage in Paris right now," Ellie said in her usual bored tone while polishing her thick-framed glasses.

  "You know I can't wear that dress. It somehow exaggerates my pasty skin and showcases my thunder thighs."

  "Your skin is not pasty, and you don't have thunder thighs," I said consolingly, inserting myself into the conversation.

  Renna ignored me, then whipped out her phone and scooted her chair towards Tanaya. "What do you think of this dress? And look at this gorgeous actress from India; she kind of looks like you."

  Tanaya blushed. "Who me? No way. She looks way more like Ellie; her body is so thin and perfect."

  Renna showed the phone to Ellie, and Ellie smirked before tossing her silky, light-brown hair behind her shoulder. "Oh, whatever. But check out that Norwegian model," Ellie pointed, swiping the screen with her finger. She looks just like you Renna. You even have the same exact hair color."

  "Do you really think?" Renna chuckled.

  "Definitely," Ellie nodded.

  "Well, I guess we should all be models then," Renna said, and all three giggled in unison.

  Distracting from their laughter, I coughed, ham spewing from my mouth. Across the table, Ellie glared at me as if I had committed some nefarious act. "Erm, sorry," I said, clearing my throat and craning my neck. "Is there anyone that looks like me?"

  Renna and Ellie exchanged a nauseated glance.

  "No, I don't see anyone with curly brown hair," Ellie said, scornfully.

  "Hey, dude—catch!"

  Behind me, I heard a loud scuffle of movement. The next thing I knew, a yellow water polo ball landed in the center of the table and bounced up, slapping Ellie in the face. I was tempted to laugh like the Wicked Witch of the West but refrained when WHACK! I suddenly felt an agonizing pain in the back of my skull. Had I been shot? Was I going to die? Oh, woe is me! I hadn't lived a fruitful, fulfilling life! I was so young, so impressionable, so naïve, so . . .

  "Hey, sorry—I think I might have elbowed you in the back of the head. Are you all right?"

  Just then, I felt a warm pair of hands resting on my shoulders. Oh please do not be Mrs. Frankfert, I begged and quickly looked up. Looking down at me was an angel, my destroying angel, ready to take my soul away from this wicked, odious world. Surprisingly, he looked just like Clyde, my one true love, smiling down at me with his twinkling, emerald-green eyes; his dark-blond hair was even ruffled the same way as Clyde's. But, I knew it couldn't be Clyde because it was utterly impossible that Clyde's face would be so close to mine with his hands resting on my shoulders.

  "Yes angel, I am ready to go now," I inaudibly whispered.

  "Uh, are you all right?"

  "Earth to Sarah!" I suddenly felt a kick to my shin. Ouch! Oh my gosh, I wasn't dreaming, and now the whole cafeteria was staring—not my imagination. And Clyde was really looking at me!

  "Umm!" I gasped for air like my face had just broken the surface of a watery grave. My first breath of life—I was reborn. Should I start crying?

  No. Speak!

  "I'm fine," I coughed my first words.

  "Oh, cool. For a second there, I thought you were a goner," Clyde said and chuckled. Everyone in the cafeteria laughed as well, but I didn't care. Clyde's hands were still resting on my shoulders, and was he lightly massaging them? Warmth dribbled down my body like golden honey transforming into monarch butterflies that danced and twirled around, making a home in my stomach.

  "Okay. Well, see ya around—take it easy," Clyde said, retrieving his ball and sauntering away.

  Once again, I practically gasped for air, and so did my so-called friends.

  "No way! Did that actually just happen?" Renna hissed, leaning forward and tucking her short hair behind her ear.

  "I-I-I don't know," I stammered, yet I could still feel the warmth where Clyde had touched me. His actual phalanges had rubbed my shoulders. His phalanges! This was better than any fantasy I could have ever conceived. Beyond anything that my wildest dreams could have invented—even better than the ones hiding in the dark recesses of my mind. This moment, here and now, was better than Christmas day, better than any romance novel, better than life as I knew it! Then it dawned on me: This has to be what love is. It's not infatuation or limerence, I argued with myself; this was full-blown love. This is what it tastes like. I was in love!

  "Wow, Sarah," Tanaya whispered. "You've got to be the luckiest girl in the world."

  "Yes, Tanaya, I am. I am." I said with a dewy smile. And I knew I would take another ten thousand blows to the head to recreate that moment.

  "Don't be ridiculous," tiny Ellie scathed, her cheeks red. "Get rid of those heart emojis from your eyes. He is not interested. We are nerds. He's popular and gorgeous—and you're just a chubby, frizzy-haired junior. Not Cinderella."

  At that moment, I felt my fantasy world crumble before my very eyes. My castle, my knight in shining armor, his white horse all dissolved and disappeared. I was alone. Once again, hot tears stung my eyes. How could Ellie's words cut me so deeply? Be so caustic? Immediately, I got up from my seat and dashed for the exit doors. I heard Tanaya call my name, but I didn't turn around. As I ran holding my hands to my face, my shoulders shook up and down just like those beautiful princesses, but I wasn't a beautiful princess; I had to accept myself for what I really was: an ogre.

  Fifteen minutes later, I found myself locked in the girl's bathroom lying on the floor—on top of a self-made mattress of 50 toilet sheet covers. I bawled my eyes out for ten minutes, but now my breathing was starting to calm. I glanced at the caged clock on the wall; the bell would ring in three minutes. I'd better get a move on if I wanted to look presentable to my peers. Like an orangutan on its deathbed, I lifted a shaky hand and latched it onto the corner of the sink. Then, with extreme difficulty, I hoisted myself up from the tile ground.

  Now, as I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I saw a puffy-faced brunette with dull hazel eyes, nondescript features, and black mascara bleeding down her cheeks—I looked like a nightmare! Why couldn't I be beautiful like all the models in the magazines? Why did I have to have curly hair? Was I really chubby?

  Gingerly, I placed a hand on the mirror and stared into my lifeless eyes.

  Oh, Bobby, I have no more tears left to cry. I know I am a foolish girl, Bobby; a foolish, silly girl, but you must let me go. Let me go to class, Bobby. Please!

  What was I thinking? Even now, my active imagination was on full blast, transporting me to the set of a black and white Hollywood scene. Get a grip, I told myself. While fanning my face with my hands, I let out an incredulous laugh.

  By the time the bell rang, I had realized what a complete moron I was. I cursed myself for running out of the cafeteria the way I had. Did I really do that? How embarrassing! The onlookers must have loved the show: Girl gets accidentally elbowed in the back of the head, wakes up from a coma, acts like she is crazy, speaks like a blubbering fool—and, two minutes later, dramatically dashes away. I was probably the laughing stock of the entire school!

  Oh, curse these uncontrollable emotions in my brain! Curse you, estrogen! Curse the actress trapped inside of me who is always scraping her nails, clawing up a ravine, trying to break free from my chest! What strange imagery my mind created.

  Oh well. Hopefully, most of the student body would think I was crying because of the head pain—yes, trauma to the head. That was plausible. That was my story, and I would stick with it, but what was I supposed to do now? I was struck by Cupid's bow, and I thirsted for that love again, thirsted for Clyde's touch. However, despite the cruelty of Ellie's words, I knew she was primarily right; Clyde was out of my league. And so, after school, I decided I would have to do something unthinkable, despicable, immoral, and truly sickening—did I have no self-worth?

  Well, basically, yeah.

  When the final bell rang, I burst out of class and strode to the nearest salon I could find. The old downtown was close by, and there had to be one. Yes, I was going to exchange my natural curls for sleek, straight hair. What I needed was a chemical relaxer. I had wanted one ever since I could remember, but my mom had always sighed and told me that good girls shouldn't be vain, that beauty was on the inside—eye of the beholder. Well, not many eyes beheld the bird's nest on my head and thought it a flock of beauty. And I was ready to be bad. I was ready to straighten my hair—sinfully!