Anyways, in case your like my best friend and are currently asking yourself, “ Who in their right mind just gives up their bedroom?” I'd like to take this time to defend my self. I did NOT just hand over the bedroom! I did everything I could think of to remain in control of my own room, including resorting to writing to my father and throwing a temper tantrum. (A low I'd always told myself I would never sink too) But eventually after many days locked in the basement of our house and numerous nights without supper, I reluctantly admitted defeat. Camellia had the support of her mother, the mistress of the house while I...I had the support of the cook who used to be my nanny. You do the math on which one of us had the unfair advantage.

Closing the doors to my bedroom behind me I sat down onto my bed and removed from my night stand the one thing I'd been able to salvage from my room, my mother's childhood book of fairy tales. Even in the dim light of attic bedroom I could see the emerald green cover of that beloved book. It didn't exactly glow, but non the less its seemed to cast a sort of light over the plain walls and to bring a sense of peace to my mind. I gently stroked my hand down the side of the books spine before I pushed open the cover. Leafing through the pages I found my favorite story, the story Nanny had told me my mother had named me after , Alana bringer of Harmony. A little cheesy I'll admit but what can you expect from a children's book?

I' ve never felt I deserved the name my mother picked out for me. Alana means harmony, stone, as well as noble. I'm hardly the bringer of harmony , note the temper tantrum I was forced to have, and as for being a stone .. well I think they mean firm of mind, again not the worlds best description of me... the noble part of course seems to fit. But only because I happen to have been born into a noble family .. not because I've shown that I am noble, something very different. It might seem a little stupid to want to live up your name, but besides the furniture, book, and a few pieces of jewelry ... I have nothing else of my mother left. I want to make her proud of the daughter she died to give birth too... of the daughter who she named after her favorite childhood story.

I was jerked out my day dreams about my mother by my bedroom door being violently swung open and an enraged Camellia rushing in. “ You low life!,” she screamed as she stormed at me, “You good for nothing little whore!” Swiftly swooping and dodging to avoider her advances I made a rush for the door a slight smile on my lips. Playing pranks on Camellia had become on my favorite hobbies lately. “How could you?! My most beautiful dress... ruined!!” Yeah.. thats right she was so worked up over a dress ... then again it wasn't just any dress I'd gotten my hands on but the dress she'd been planning to wear to a dinner party Camellia and her mother where due to go to in an hour or so. I felt a ting of remorse creep into my mind but I swiftly reminded myself of what a witch my opponent was. “Camellia I swear it wasn't me!” I pleaded. No use confirming her accusations. The part of the game that made it so much fun was attempting to get away with the crime... something I had thus far been unable to do. “It wasn't you you say!? If it wasn't you then who was it you ....” Still ducking and dodging I tuned Camellia out.

Her dress wasn't even ruined! All I'd done was wrinkle it a little here and there .... and maybe un stitched a few bows... and a few buttons... but nothing that couldn't easily be fixed! I knew I'd be made to pay when my step-mother learned of what I'd done, but was it worth it to watch Camellia flying around my little room like a screaming banshee, her beautiful face contoured in anger and her blonde main of curls flying behind her as she ran and jump!