Not So Cinderella

by Rebekah L. Thompson

  The stress from the day catches up to me. I may be a fighter, but I’m also just a teenager. Sometimes things are just hard. Sometimes I just need alone time- like now.

  My feet pound on the ground as I run home. When I get there, I run inside and up to my room. I throw my bag down and flop on my bed, allowing the tears to fall. Today was a crap day, like many other days, and Lexi made it worse.

  Why’d Lexi have to mention Mom? My parents are a sensitive topic. Lexi knows that. Her vindictive, petty side is always there, but sometimes she can be downright cruel- like today.

  Sniffling, I roll over and stare at my parent’s picture, which I keep on my bedside table. I sit up and grab the frame, wiping tears away as I stare at it. I took it on one of their anniversaries. My dad had taken Mom out to the lake where he proposed. In the picture, they’re sitting together on a blanket with their picnic food around them.

  “I miss you guys,” I whisper, hugging the picture to my chest and laying back. It’s my favorite picture of them from before she got sick. We didn’t take many photographs after she got sick because she was always so pale and weak. Then she was in the hospital.

  They were always holding hands and sneaking kisses. Not in the vulgar way teens did, though. Just by looking at them, anyone could see their love from the way they looked at each other. They radiated love for one another, but when my mom died, Dad’s light went out. He got more into his fighting and into teaching me to fight. It’s what got us through.

  A knock sounds at my door, and when it opens, Mason enters. He notices my tear-stained face and quickly comes over.

  “Hey, come here. What happened?” His voice is soft as he sits next to me, pulling me into his arms.

  “Lexi said something about tattling on me to Alisha, and I told her that Alisha wasn’t my mom,” I relay, sniffling and laying my head on his shoulder. After our parents’ deaths, few people comfort me, so I snuggle in and tuck my face in his neck. “Th-then she said, ‘I know. Y-your mom is dead.’”

  “That little brat,” he spits, tightening his arms around me. I look up as a tear rolls down his cheek. I reach up and wipe the tear, knowing he’s thinking the same as me. We need to get out, away from these toxic people.

  “I can’t wait until we leave,” I whisper, laying my head back on his chest. We sit like this for a while before my eyelids grow heavy. The last thing I remember is Mason laying me down, kissing my forehead, and whispering something that I can’t understand.

  Chapter 5

  Athena

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  “Athena, Mom and I are going out. She left a chore list on the counter,” Lexi yells, and I roll over, groaning when I see it’s only 8:14 am. She bangs on my door and screeches my name again.

  “Athena!”

  I let out a frustrated scream. “Okay! I hear you!” I was up late last night and would like to sleep. With Lexi and Alisha, I never get what I want. I bury my head in my pillow and scream as loud as I can. Why is this my life? I thought Cinderella was a delightful story, that was until I started living it.

  I sigh and roll out of bed, unsteadily placing my feet on the floor only to trip over something substantial. Usually, I keep my room clean, so I mentally curse myself for slacking and adding to the worst morning ever as I fall.

  I shriek and tumble to the floor, right on top of Mason, causing him to groan and me to jump to my feet.

  “Sorry! Sorry,” I exclaim, looking down at my brother. I’m not heavy, but I landed solidly enough that it had to hurt. While I internally freaked out about possibly hurting my brother, Mason merely sits up and pulls himself to his feet.

  “Why’d you fall on me?” Mason asks, a hint of teasing lighting his eyes. When I realize he’s okay and just messing with me, I smile. This isn’t the first time he’d slept on my floor. I’m sure it won’t be the last. Usually, he tells me beforehand, but I guess he stayed after our talk.

  He rubs his sore neck and stretches, mumbling, “I didn’t want to leave you while you were upset.” The wince of pain he tried to hide didn’t escape my notice. I wish I still had the chair that Lexi ‘saved’ from my ‘horrible’ room.

  “Thanks,” I murmur, hugging him. He nods, hugs me back, then says something about getting ready for the day. With that, he leaves the room while I gather myself.

  Before I can do anything, though, my room door flies open, and there stands Alisha, my evil stepmother. “You are to finish all your chores. Then, when you’re done, you’re grounded,” she tells me. I sit up quickly. Grounded?

  “What? Why?” Alisha crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes at me.

  “For disrespecting my daughter. I kept you and your brother after your father died. I could have dumped you out on the street, but since I’m a pleasant woman, I kept you ungrateful brats. So you owe me,” she tells me, and I lower my head, trying to keep in my anger. “You and your brother are orphans. Do you want me to call Child Services and get them to deal with you?” She asks, making my head snap up.

  “You wouldn’t! We’ve done nothing wrong!” I yell, standing up. This woman is like a tempest trying to tear my life apart.

  She smirks and takes a step forward. “I can do whatever I want. I’ll get them to take you away. I’ll get them to separate you. Don’t test me,” she orders before pushing me back onto my bed and walking out of the room. Sighing, I pick up my pillow and scream into it again. I can’t believe this.

  “What’s with the yelling and screaming?” Mason asks, walking into my room through the still-open door. I pull the pillow down and throw it across the room, needing something for my anger. I’d love to shove my fist into Lexi's or Alisha’s face.

  “That- that witch threatened to call Child Services, get us taken away, and separated if I don’t respect Lexi because Lexi told Alisha about the locker room. Though, knowing Lexi, she probably lied and made it a bigger deal than me just name-calling,” I tell him, and he growls.

  Before I can say anything else, he spins around and punches the first thing in sight- my window. I scream in surprise, and this time, there’s no pillow to muffle it. If anyone heard, they’d probably think I was dying or something. “Mason!” I jump to my feet and grab his right hand.

  “Why would you do that?” I cry, pulling him towards the bathroom. He sighs and watches me pull out the first aid kit. There are little glass sprinkles embedded in his hand, making me cringe and has tears swelling in my eyes.

  Setting the aid kit aside, I carefully pull the glass shards from his skin. I feel like a mama bear taking care of her baby bear. It hadn’t taken over in a while, not since Mason was younger when I took care of him more often.

  Every piece of glass produces blood, and I bite my lip. I hate seeing Mason hurt. Ever since Mom and Dad died, he’s been my responsibility. I feel like I’m failing him sometimes. He shouldn’t feel threatened or worried, and yet, it’s a part of his everyday life.

  “She can’t do that,” he murmurs, “I can’t lose you too.” His voice wavers, and I bite my lip, willing the tears to stay back. I can’t lose him either. He’s the only family I have left, so I stay quiet as I clean his cut-up knuckles.

  When I finish cleaning his cuts, I wrap bandages over them. He still hasn’t looked up, so I wrap my arms around his neck and lay my head on his chest. “I can’t lose you either. That’s why I’m going to do what she says,” I tell him.

  “Love you, Thea,” he murmurs, “I don’t remember much about Mom, but I like to imagine she’s like you: caring, beautiful, and always there for me.” Tears prick my eyes, and I lean further into his chest as his arms slip around my waist, giving him the chance to rest his chin on my head. “Just a couple of months, and we can get away. I promise.” He looks down at me and nods at my words.

  “I know you’re bigger and taller than me, but I’m still your big sister, and I’ll do whatever I can to stay and keep you safe,” I promise, and he smiles down at me. Pulling away, I stash the first aid kit under my bat
hroom sink and walk back to my room. Just a bit longer.

  “Hey! Athena!” Someone yells. I look over to see Drake leaning out of his window.

  “What?”

  “I heard a scream, and I... uh, just wanted to check on you,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. Is he embarrassed? Or does he realize he’s butting in where he shouldn’t?

  “Um…” I glance at Mason for an excuse.

  “I got angry because of something that happened at school,” Mason lies, “I have anger issues I need to deal with if you know what I mean.” He tilts his head, and his eyes widen slightly to hint at why he’d been at the fights. Of course, Mason turns his head a bit like he doesn’t want me to see. He has to keep up the guise that I don’t know.

  “Oh, got it,” Drake nods.

  “Drake, I understand I’m the little nerd girl, but I don’t need a savior,” I lie. Honestly, I could use a savior, if only to get out of this house. Drake can’t be that person, though. With that thought, I close my blinds and move to my closet. I pick out a pair of rolled-up jeans and a wolf tank top. I change into my clothes, then slip on my socks and high-top converse.

  Once I finish, I walk downstairs to see Mason on the phone, “Yeah. She’s not busy. Tonight. Nine. Okay, she’ll be there,” Mason says and hangs up, sliding his cell back into his pocket. I walk over to the counter and pick up the list of chores.

  “Fight?” I ask as I read the chore list.

  Kitchen.

  Living room.

  Trash.

  Floors.

  Bathrooms.

  Windows.

  Lexi’s car.

  I slap the list down, and Mason leans against the counter. “Yeah. How bad?” He asks, looking over the list. He frowns as he reads and then puts it down. “Didn’t you do these yesterday?” He asks, running a hand through his hair. Bending down, I reach under the counter and grab the cleaning bucket, voicing a “yep.” I set the cleaning stuff on the counter and grab the window cleaner.

  “Take your pick,” I tell him as I walk out of the kitchen.

  We don’t have many windows in the house, but our back door is glass, so that’s first. I quickly clean the door, then move to the windows by the front door. Those don’t take long before moving up to Alisha’s, Lexi’s, then Mason’s room. He usually does his own cleaning, but since he’s helping, I do what I can. I finish Mason’s window and move to my room to deal with my window at last.

  Glass still litters the floor and windowsill. I yank the white string to open the blinds to get a better look.

  “Great,” I mutter to myself. With a huff, I set the cleaner aside and pick up glass pieces. When I stand, I see Drake lying on his bed- shirtless, his millions of tattoos on display, and reading a book. Maybe he isn’t a typical bad boy.

  Used to be, when I pictured bad boys or saw them in movies or read about them in books, they were fighting, smoking, or causing trouble. Drake and his friends aren’t like that… well, except for the fighting part. And the tattoos. Also, the leather jackets. Then there’s also their disrupting the teacher.

  I digress.

  At that moment, I realize I’m staring, so I quickly turn away. A stinging sensation slices across my hand, making me yelp. “Holy mother of - argh!” I look down at my palm to a large gash. The red liquid rushes to the oxygen, and I run to my bathroom to get a rag. Thank god I’m not afraid of blood.

  Grabbing a rag, I tie it around my hand, watching as the blood seeps through, the rag not doing much. I walk out of the bathroom. I glare at the broken glass, now dripping with my blood until someone clears their throat.

  “You okay?”

  Jumping, I turn to find Drake leaning against his open window. He’s staring at my injured hand with furrowed brows and a worried frown. When I see the expression, I know I should apologize for snapping at him earlier. He did nothing wrong.

  It takes a second, but I shake myself out of my thoughts.

  “Um, yeah... I was just cleaning and cut myself,” I tell him, and he laughs. He laughs! What is wrong with him? I narrow my eyes at him. “What’s so funny? Do you think my pain is funny?” I growl. He quickly sobers up, having the decency to look shocked and a little ashamed.

  “Jeez. Ya know, for a nerd, you’re feisty,” is his response.

  I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him through my broken window. “People label me as a nerd when I make good grades, but that doesn’t mean they know me. Yes, I like to read and stay quiet, but that doesn’t make me weak,” I rant. “I’m so tired of being bullied because I’m not like everyone else. Who cares if I keep to myself?! I just want to get through school. I already have enough trouble with that, so I don’t need you coming in and messing with me too!” I spit at him before storming out of my room.

  Forgetting about my window, I start on my other chores. Mason has already finished the bathrooms, so I take the kitchen. My frustration and anger seep into the tasks, pushing me to work harder and faster. I make sure the dishes are clean, put away, and nothing is out of place as I clean the counters and table.

  Next, I move to the floors. I pull out the vacuum and quickly go over the floors. Alisha always tells me she wants me to clean the floors by hand, but it’s not like she’ll know if I did it. The scene in Cinderella where she’s washing the floors pops into my head, and I scowl. I’m not a maid, but I can’t rebel.

  Just like Cinderella, I can’t get out from under my stepmother’s thumb.

  Drake

  I sit back on my bed and think over what Athena said. Why can’t I stop thinking about her? I saw her alone, and something just sparked inside of me. She sees me as either dangerous or annoying, and that’s it, but the thing is, I want to show her how wrong her vision of me is. She clearly has trouble trusting people, and I don’t want to be one of them.

  Maybe I should leave her alone like she asked. Perhaps I should give her time to get used to having new people in her life- people who want to hang out with her and people who care.

  She’s probably the quietest, most reserved girl I know. At the same time, some things cause her to become fiery. I’ve only seen it a few times, but I know it’s buried in there somewhere.

  Then, I don’t forget the fact that she’s devastatingly beautiful. She doesn’t know it either. She doesn’t flaunt her beauty like other girls at school. She also doesn’t like people, but when someone pushes hard enough, she opens up. Hence the fiery attitude. She can’t hide behind her walls forever, and I’m determined to break down her barriers and see who she truly is.

  “Drake!” Alec yells from downstairs. I push the thoughts away, saving them for another time, as I get up and make my way downstairs. When I reach the kitchen, he’s on his laptop with his phone next to him.

  I walk over and hop up, sitting on the counter. “What? Did you do it?” I ask as he writes a math problem. He pushes his glasses up on his nose and works the problem. I have no problem with nerds because we have our own. Alec. He’s all about doing his schoolwork, making good grades, keeping us out of trouble, and getting into college next year. He still likes the things we do, but he’s more level-headed than the rest of us.

  “Yeah, you’re fighting her tonight,” he answers, then looks up at me with raised eyebrows. “Dude, I hope you know what you’re doing. She has a 91% chance of winning since she’s undefeated. You have a 9% chance to prove that wrong,” he tells me as he moves onto another math problem. See what I mean?

  Nerd.

  Though, his nerdiness makes me think of Athena.

  Sighing, I hop down and shuffle to the fridge. I feel bad for making her mad. I should apologize.

  Grabbing the chocolate milk, I take a swig and almost spit it out when I see Athena lugging a large, heavy garbage bag out of her front door. I slam the milk carton on the counter, making Alec jump as I run out of the house. It surprised me the other day to see the shy girl dancing around her room after midnight. I found it amusing when she freaked out because I saw her.

&n
bsp; “Athena!” I call out, jogging over. She lifts the large bag, and I move to help her, but she eyes me with a look that tells me she can do it. So, I take a step back and let her finish her chore. When she puts the top back on the bin, she sighs and turns to me. I study her tired features. Little bags sit under her eyes, and a rag covers her hand.

  “Look, I’m sorry about laughing earlier. I didn’t mean what I said in a bad way. I just noticed how clumsy you can be,” I tell her, and she raises an eyebrow. Crap, wrong thing to say. “Wait, I mean... uh, I’m not here to mess with you. When I walked into class on my first day, I saw you sitting alone. The surrounding kids were… are rude and unkind. I didn’t think sitting by you and trying to help would come across as me thinking you’re weak,” I tell her, and she says nothing, just listens.

  “I don’t do this often,” I sigh, running my hand through my hair. Why do I keep sticking my foot in my mouth? I sigh again and peer at her. “Can you just give me a chance? We don’t want to watch you get bullied,” I say, and she just looks at me. Her teeth tug and chew on her bottom lip in a cute micro-movement.

  “Look, I know you’re not weak and that you don’t need protecting, but we want to help you. I can tell there’s an amazing girl under that facade, and my friends and I want to meet her,” I tell her, watching for even a hint of acceptance.

  After a minute of her staring, I continue, “We- I just want to be your friend. We won’t push ourselves in your business anymore, but think about it, okay?” She stares at me. I have no clue what I’m doing. Am I just digging myself deeper in the ‘Athena-dislikes-me’ hole?

  She glances down, and after a second, looks back up. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to blow up on you earlier. It just gets hard to stay quiet all the time and take the crap,” she mumbles, glancing up through her glasses. Her arms go around her middle as if she’s protecting herself from something. Hopefully, not me.

  I watch with interest as she opens up yet shuts down at the same time.