BLEMISH © 2002 M.D. KOFFIN THIS DRAFT IS FOR PREVIEWING PURPOSES ONLY. DO NOT COPY OR REDISTRIBUTE THIS MATERIAL WITHOUT THE AUTHOR'S EXPRESSED PERMISSION. Her hands brushed aside the mass of products foisted on her by her gender and clutched at the small bottle of Tylenol. The contents were ominously quiet during the childproof container's brief struggle to retain its cap. "God damn it." She muttered. Just as she feared, the children of the world were being kept safe from a deadly ball of cotton. She pressed her palm to her forehead, the light pressure momentarily distracting from the pain. To make things worse, or maybe it was the cause, she had a mosquito bite on her temple. It was the size of a boil and just as ugly. How was she going to sit through church with such a pounding headache? And how was she going to cover up such a gross blemish? Her eyes returned to the feminine items she had carelessly pawed through, liquid bases and ivory powders and rosy blushes and fashion shadows and a dozen other face tortures, her spackle tackle. She could always pray for the insect bite to go away, she smirked in the mirror until she again focused on the mini-tumor. She gingerly touched the red lump and instantly regretted it as it flared to life with wrathful itchiness. "Mom!" She called with her eyes squeezed tightly shut, resisting the urge to scratch at the irritation. "Yes, Hon." A patient voice sounded from the kitchen along with the banging of pots and the running of water. "I've got a headache and I don't want to go to church today. Ok?" In fact, she just wanted to crawl back into bed and sleep until at least ten. She opened one eye when her mother didn't respond. She heard Poppy meowing and scratching, and the opening and closing of the back door. "Mo-om!" She whined again, shuffling down the hall and building up static on her Minnie Mouse slippers. Poppy went to curl about her ankles and got a shock on his nose for the effort. He shot off into the pantry like, well, like he had been launched from a catapult. Her smile turned into a pout when her mother finally answered. "You can't miss church again, Sue-Ellen, that will make two weeks in a row." She dropped a handful of sliced apples into the pot of oatmeal and began chopping another apple. She hated it when her mom called her Sue-Ellen, she preferred Ellie. "Yeah, Sue-Ellen." Chris piped up from under the dining room table where he had a racetrack set up for his little cars. He didn't look up, remaining bent over his race with the crack of his butt peeking out from his pajamas. She resisted insulting him as she normally would have. Fighting with her brother would not win her mother over to her cause. She snagged an apple slice then hopped up on the kitchen counter, sitting with her back to the cabinets. Chewing only increased the pulsing fury of her headache but she resisted the urge to tell her mother she really had a headache this time, that wouldn't help her either. "Mom, look." She prompted, turning her head so her mother could see the vampiric wound inflicted on her during the night. She must have a hole in one of her window screens. Her mother sighed. "No one has ever died from a pimple, Dear." "It's not a pimple!" Her swinging feet kicked the dishwasher. The stern tilt of her mother's head told her that her audience remained unsympathetic. "And it is killing me. It hurts!" "Sue-Ellen's got a pimple. Sue-Ellen's got a pimple." Chris chanted as their father entered the kitchen and received a tackling hug to the knees from his son. "It's not a pimple, Dad. It's a mosquito bite and it's giving me a monster headache." "Another headache? Maybe we should see Dr. Chan?" "It's not serious. I just want to rest until it goes away." She fumbled at the mock threat of going to the clinic, knowing that her unsympathetic audience had now increased to three. BLEMISH © 2002 M.D. KOFFIN THIS DRAFT IS FOR PREVIEWING PURPOSES ONLY. DO NOT COPY OR REDISTRIBUTE THIS MATERIAL WITHOUT THE AUTHOR'S EXPRESSED PERMISSION.