What do you think of this small excerpt?
I just want your opinion, and I am hoping to draw some male readers, even though the start is very feminine.
all comments appreciated, I just wrote this a few minutes ago.
Doubt was traced over Hilary Finch’s face as she sat on her mahogany, powder-blue covered bed in one of the top-most dormitories of the terrace. She watched as her best friend paraded around the room in circles, holding two beautiful evening dresses; one a short, peacock blue, and the other a flowing peach. The dresses glistened in the dormitory’s light and Hilary could hardly tear her eyes away from them. The soft silks were sure to be a hand-crafted creation of a truly magnificent designer, and perhaps they were even unique... Hilary snapped out of her daze and shook her head.
The parcel containing the items had arrived for her only earlier in the day with a note attached from her mother. But Hilary didn’t read the note, nor was she ever going to wear the dresses.
Greta sighed. “Fine… I guess It’s up to you… but you would look super stunning in them. Not to mention, everyone would be so jealous!” Greta flopped down on the bed opposite from Hilary’s and started stroking the long peach gown fondly. Hilary didn’t surrender to her best friend’s puppy eyes.
“My mother just can’t win me over with a few labeled gifts, Greta. Don’t you see that it’s just a bribe? She wants me to wear one of them to her wedding rehearsal; I know that’s what the note says. But I’m not. This is her fifth husband in three years! You can have them if you want, otherwise I’ll be sending them back to Paris in their black velvet boxes.”
“They are from Paris? I wish my mother wasn’t so caught up in her cook-books... otherwise she may spend some of her money on me for once-” Hilary cut Greta off.
“I would rather a mother who actually cared about her children, even if she just cared about us slightly more than her fortunes and popularity. She lives in the world of socialites and dinner parties – your mother may be known for her catering amongst these parties, but she still spends more time with her family than mine.” Hilary stood up and walked over to the dormitory’s open window. The sky was turning a soft pink as the sun set over the city of Fawcett and Beatrice Paxton’s ladies college looked over the area.
“Okay,” Greta carefully laid the dress down on the bed. “You win. Your mother is a *****. But that doesn’t mean she can make your life miserable – you’re at a boarding school, you don’t need to see her at all! Just forget about it. Come on, we have soccer training before the formal dinner.”
Hilary followed Greta silently out the dormitory door, watching her friend’s silky black mane shimmer in her wake. Hilary didn’t share dormitories with Greta, yet it almost felt as if they did. Hilary’s real roommate was always stuck in the library now that she was in her final year of schooling, and Greta just couldn’t stand her border.