Seeing Cinderella

by Jenny Lundquist

  “Whatever,” Raven said, picking up a compact and beginning to apply white powder to her already chalky skin. “She can’t even speak English right.”

  I flinched, figuring she meant Ana’s accent. Raven scowled at her reflection in the mirror. In the screen hovering next to her, her thoughts were just as nasty as her words. Except she wasn’t thinking about Ana, she was thinking about herself: But Ana’s not even American and she reads better than you, little miss reads-at-a-fourth-grade-level. What kind of an idiot are you? Why can’t you see words like normal people instead of jumbling them all up?

  Raven Maggert was the last person I wanted to feel sorry for—but I did anyway. Words never jumbled up on me, and I still struggled in school. From spying on Raven’s thoughts I knew she stressed out whenever we had to read aloud in history, English, or drama class. I guess now I knew why.

  “It’s been really helpful, having a tutor,” I said carefully.

  “People who need tutors are losers,” Raven said.

  Raven went back to powdering herself into a ghost. Ellen stared defiantly in the mirror while she fluffed her bangs, and I read the screen hovering next to her, showing me her thoughts: I’m tired of being good little Ellen all the time. No matter how much or how well I do, Tara always does better. I’ve had it. Mom can refuse to buy me a guitar—but she’s still going to see a different Ellen this year. She can just deal with the changes.

  “What changes?” I asked, and then froze. I’d said it out loud. Not good. So not good.

  But I don’t think Ellen even realized I’d read her thoughts. She just stared at me in the mirror as different images flashed on the screen hovering near her. Ellen, at what I thought was a club meeting, looking bored. Ellen glancing over at a boy in the cafeteria, then blushing when he smiled at her. Ellen laughing with Stacy while they played around with the guitar. The screen changed again, and one sentence scrolled across: Callie wouldn’t understand.

  Callie wouldn’t understand. I was so sick of reading about how “Callie wouldn’t understand.”

  “Why are you wearing those?” Ellen asked suddenly, turning around and facing me.

  “Wearing what?” I looked down at my costume.

  “Your glasses. You told me you only need them for reading, but you wear them all the time.”

  “Um . . .” I glanced around my room, hoping to find a good excuse. Because telling Ellen the truth was so not an option.

  “I thought—I thought they’d go well with my costume.”

  “It definitely adds to the loser factor,” Raven said.

  “Well it looks ridiculous.” Ellen’s thoughts told me she wasn’t buying it. She’s lying. I always know when Callie’s lying.

  “Give them to me.” Ellen held out her hand.

  I didn’t want to give Ellen the glasses. I wanted to throw them at her. At the demanding hands she held out, hands that just assumed I’d obey her. And I wanted to yell—yell at all of them—and tell them they weren’t allowed to boss me around, or say mean things about me, my costume, or my freckles. Not in my own room. Maybe in the hallways of Pacificview I was just the frizzy-haired girl with freckles and ugly glasses. But in my room, I was the queen. And no one was allowed to be mean to me.

  But if I said any of that, Ellen would tell me I was being ridiculous, Raven would say I was too sensitive, and Stacy would giggle and secretly wonder if Ellen and I were about to break up as best friends. So I did what everyone in the room expected me to do: I politely handed the glasses to Ellen.

  And watched in horror as she stuck them on her face.

  Think nothing but nice thoughts, I commanded myself frantically, squeezing my eyes shut. Don’t think about how much you don’t like Stacy, how you think Raven is nasty, or most of all, how mad you get at Ellen. Just think nice, happy thoughts. And you’d better start thinking of a darn good apology: I’m so sorry I’ve been spying on you guys. Really, I didn’t mean to do it. Okay, well I guess I did. But I didn’t do it that often. Only when I was mad, or nervous, or frustrated. Which has been a lot this year.

  I am so dead, I thought as Ellen continued to stare at me.

  After what seemed like forever, Ellen took them off and said, “Your eyesight stinks, Callie. I can’t see anything in these!”

  Stacy giggled, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I took my glasses back.

  “You guys finish getting ready. I’m going next door to get Ana.” I hoped they didn’t hear my voice shake as I backed out the door.

  That was close.

  Chapter 11

  Super Freaky Glasses Rule #10

  Never leave home without your glasses (and a pack of Red Hots). You never know when they might come in handy.

  ANGRY VOICES SPURTED FROM AN OPEN WINDOW AS I walked up the porch to Ana’s house. The voices fell silent when I knocked, and I heard footsteps padding toward the front door. I hoped Ana would answer so I wouldn’t have to talk to her uncle. I wasn’t disappointed.

  “Hola.” Ana stepped out onto the porch. Behind her, I saw Mr. Garcia lurking in the entryway, staring at us. I wondered what they had been arguing about.

  “Ready to go?” I asked, although clearly Ana wasn’t ready. Instead of the nurse’s costume she said she had, Ana was dressed in her too-small overalls. I almost asked if she’d changed her mind and decided to go as a farmer, but didn’t.

  “I cannot go. I am sick,” Ana said.

  “Oh. Okay.” I frowned, and not just because I felt disappointed, but because I had this strange feeling Ana was lying. She looked tired, so maybe she really was sick. But something about the way she held on to the door—like she couldn’t wait to close it—made me feel like she was lying. If Ana had gotten in trouble with her uncle, she could’ve just told me.

  Then again, she probably couldn’t, I realized as I looked over her shoulder at Mr. Garcia. Not with him spying on us. I wished I could’ve put my glasses on and found out the truth. But after the close call with Ellen, I’d left them at home.

  “See you at school.” Ana sounded like Mr. Angelo when he dismissed us from class.

  Ana stepped back inside her house. Something made me stick out my foot, catching the door before it closed.

  “What are your symptoms?” I asked.

  “Symptoms? I do not know this word.”

  “Symptoms, you know—coughing, sneezing.” I faked a sneeze.

  “Oh. I feel cold. And my head hurts.”

  “So you have a headache?”

  “Yes. I have a headache. Good-bye, Callie.” I moved my foot, and Ana firmly shut the door.

  I stared at the door, wishing I’d brought my glasses. Wishing I could’ve tried to read Ana’s thoughts, even if most of them were in Spanish.

  Because I knew Ana was lying to me. What I didn’t know was why.

  The scent of popcorn, hot dogs, and cotton candy wafted down the street and met us as we walked to Pacificview. Raven and I trudged behind Ellen and Stacy. Cars honked as they raced by us.

  I patted my costume, relaxing when I felt my glasses. After leaving Ana’s house, I decided I wanted them with me at the Carnival. So I tucked them into the pocket underneath my apron. I just felt . . . safer having them with me.

  Loud music and shouts and the roar of a roller coaster greeted us as we neared Pacificview Middle School. Dusk had deepened and a Ferris wheel rose up over the tops of Pacificview’s buildings into a pink-and-purple streaked sky.

  “What do you guys want to do first?” Stacy asked when we arrived.

  “I’m hungry,” Raven said.

  I looked over to the snack stands and saw Scott and Charlie eating hot dogs. “I’m hungry too,” I said quickly.

  While we ordered sodas, french fries, and a bucket of popcorn, I kept my eye on Scott. If he’d almost asked me to go to the carnival, then he’d come over as soon as he noticed me.

  I was right.

  “Ahoy thar, me ladies, be this the isle of sustenance? We’ve come in search of refreshments for our we
ary souls.” Charlie wore a pirate costume, complete with an eye patch, a gold earring, and a stuffed parrot sitting on his shoulder. Scott stood next to him, looking totally cute dressed in a martial arts costume.

  Raven rolled her eyes, but Ellen and Stacy giggled.

  Charlie grabbed a french fry off my plate, which I could tell Ellen thought was rude, but I didn’t care. Scott Fowler was standing four feet away from me!

  “Aye, french fries, just what my aching soul is craving,” Charlie said, stealing another fry.

  “May your soul be refreshed.” I pushed my plate toward him. Who could eat? When Scott Fowler was standing. Four. Feet. Away. From. Me!

  Everyone laughed while Charlie pretended to feed his stuffed parrot a few fries.

  “Where are you guys headed after this?” I asked Scott.

  “Over to the Monster’s Mirror Maze,” Charlie answered.

  “Want to join us?” Scott asked.

  Hmmm, let me think about that for one—

  “Okay,” Ellen and Stacy chorused, before I could say anything.

  At the maze, Ellen suggested we team up in partners and have a race. Scott and Charlie took off, and Ellen said, “Who wants to be my partner?”

  “I do!” Stacy and I both said.

  Ellen looked from me to Stacy, her head swiveling like she was watching a tennis match. Then she said, “I’ll be partners with Raven.” Ellen ran into the maze, followed by a not-very-excited-looking Raven.

  “Come on, Stacy. Let’s go,” I said impatiently. Maybe I could catch up to Charlie and Scott. Maybe then Scott and I could talk, and maybe then, well, who knew?

  But Stacy seemed entranced by the mirrors, and kept lagging behind. Finally I gave up trying to hurry her and stared at the mirrors too.

  In one mirror my ears looked twice the size of my head, reminding me of a pair of oversize cymbals. In another mirror, Stacy’s body plumped out while her head looked like a shrunken raisin. Stacy stopped and studied herself, seeming to forget I was there.

  “Come on,” I said. “Everyone else is probably finished by now.”

  Stacy didn’t hear me. She stood still, looking grimly at her own reflection.

  “Stacy, let’s go. Stacy?”

  Still no answer. Stacy stared at herself with this funny look on her face. And—I couldn’t help it—I took out my glasses to spy on her thoughts.

  A few girls came streaming through the maze, giggling just as I slipped on my glasses.

  They’re laughing at me, Stacy’s thoughts scrolled across the blue screen hovering next to her. Some things never change. No matter how hard you try.

  “They weren’t—” I began, but broke off quickly. I didn’t want Stacy getting suspicious about the glasses, like Ellen earlier.

  It didn’t matter. Stacy hadn’t heard me.

  No matter what, I’ll always be that girl.

  What girl? I wanted to ask, but knew I couldn’t. It occurred to me then I knew very little about Stacy. I knew she’d moved to California from Oregon over the summer, that she was boy crazy, and that she was out to steal my best friend. But I didn’t know anything else. I’d never bothered to ask.

  “So what—” I began, but Stacy took off, seeming to instinctively know her way out of the maze.

  “We won!” Ellen raised her fist triumphantly when we came out of the maze.

  But she didn’t point to Raven—she pointed to Scott.

  “I lost Raven in the maze,” Ellen was saying. “And Scott lost Charlie, so we teamed up. And we won!” Ellen and Scott high-fived.

  Okay, so any interest I might have felt in Stacy’s life just totally flatlined, like one of those heart monitors on TV. I could’ve been the one who found Scott in the maze, but nooooooo, Stacy the slowpoke had to go and ruin it.

  After that, Ellen suggested we head over to the games section.

  While Scott tossed footballs through a tire, I pulled a pack of Red Hots from my apron pocket and started crunching on them. I must have been standing really close to Scott, because when he pulled back his arm he knocked into me, sending my Red Hots skittering into the grass.

  Scott turned back, looking annoyed. When he saw the Red Hots though, he flashed his crooked smile. “Are those your favorite candy?”

  “Aar, she sneakest them all the time in class,” Charlie said, before I could answer. Then he turned to me and added, “It makes your tongue really red.”

  I blushed, and Scott turned back and lobbed the football. It sailed easily through the tire, earning him a stuffed teddy bear for his effort. And then he turned around and offered it to . . . me!

  “Sorry about your Red Hots,” he said.

  “No problem,” I replied, dazed. Scott Fowler had just won me a teddy bear.

  Maybe this night wasn’t totally ruined after all.

  Chapter 12

  Super Freaky Glasses Rule #11

  People guard their secrets well. Your magic glasses can’t change that.

  “CALLIOPE, WAKE UP! IT’S ELEVEN IN THE MORNING. IT’S late even for a Saturday.” Mom pounded on the door.

  “Umagettinup,” I mumbled from under my bedspread. After a few more door pounds, Mom left, allowing me to resume my dreams. Most of them featured Scott reading his poems to me on a tropical beach before we rode off into the sunset on a unicorn.

  Okay, maybe that was over the top. But Scott had won me a teddy bear—proof, I’d thought last night, that he was totally crushing on me. Until Stacy opened her big mouth.

  “Hey, no fair,” she had protested, after Scott handed me the bear. “We want one too.”

  Then Ellen got all royal and said, “Yes, kind Prince, and as your Cinderella I shall require the best bear in all the land.”

  Next thing I knew Scott had spent a few more dollars, and soon all the girls had their own bears except for Raven, who told everyone she thought teddy bears were stupid. Still though, Scott had given me the first bear he won. That had to mean something.

  I picked up my teddy bear (who I’d already named Scotty), and hugged him once before depositing him back on my pillow. I rolled toward my nightstand and picked up my phone. I wanted to talk to Ellen about Scott—without Stacy hanging around.

  “Martin residence,” came a prim voice on the other line.

  “Hi, Mrs. Martin. Is Ellen around?”

  “Oh, hello, Callie.” Mrs. Martin’s voice warmed up. “It’s been ages. How come I never see you anymore?”

  “I don’t know,” I mumbled, but Mrs. Martin didn’t hear.

  “Ellen’s not here. She’s out with Stacy. I’ll tell her you called, though.”

  “Oh, okay. Thanks, Mrs. Martin.” My voice cracked as I said good-bye.

  I hung up my phone, and flopped backward. My pillow made a poufing sound, and Scotty spilled to the ground. I stared up at the ceiling, thinking.

  The day after the carnival Ellen decided to hang out with Stacy. Without me. I felt something shift then, like Stacy had just won a major victory.

  “Best friends forever,” I whispered, holding out my pinkie.

  But Ellen wasn’t there to meet me halfway. As I lowered my arm, I realized I didn’t have another friend I could call.

  The phone rang then, and I hoped, hoped, hoped it was Ellen, inviting me to join her and Stacy. Fast as a Wicked Stepsister finding an oversize glass slipper, I snatched up the phone.

  “Ellen?”

  “Not quite, Callie Cat,” my dad said, laughing. “I guess you’ll have to settle for your poor old man. Have you written any stories about me lately?”

  “No, Dad,” I said, hoping he didn’t hear the disappointment in my voice. “But I promise to write a few before next weekend.”

  “Actually, that’s why I called. I can’t make it.”

  “What?” I said, my thoughts momentarily distracted from Ellen and Stacy the Best-Friend Stealer. “But we haven’t seen you in forever—you keep saying you’re coming to see us, and then you always cancel. When are you coming home? And when ar
e you and Mom going to make up?”

  Out came all the questions I’d learned not to ask when Mom kicked Dad out. Because asking them seemed to hurt both my parents.

  “Things take time, Callie Cat. And your mother . . . well, you know how your mother is.”

  I sighed. I did know.

  “So, when can you come see us then, if you can’t make it next weekend?” I hated it that when I said those words, in my head I heard them in Mom’s voice.

  “Not for some time, I’m afraid. Not for about six or seven weeks or so.”

  “What? Six weeks? Why?”

  “I’ve got some things I need to take care of.”

  “What things?”

  Dad paused, and I could hear him sigh on the other line. “Things you won’t understand until you’re older.”

  I always hated it when parents said stupid stuff like that. How did they know what their kids would or wouldn’t understand? It seemed to me that half the time, kids were smarter than their parents. I wanted to use my glasses and find out what these “things” were that I was too young to understand, but I already knew from trying that on Ellen it was useless.

  “Fine,” I said, deciding not to argue. “Want to talk to Mom?”

  “No.” My dad now sounded eager to get off the phone. “I talked to her last night. Take care, Callie Cat. Love you lots.”

  “Love you lots, too.”

  I hung up the phone and hauled myself out of bed, my great mood when I first woke up now totally gone. I slipped on my glasses, grabbed my journal, and headed downstairs.

  Ellen might’ve been unavailable, but I still wanted to talk to someone about Scott. So I went to my last resort: my mother.

  Mom was in her office grading papers, her usual Saturday morning routine.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hello,” she said, not looking up. A red pen flashed across the page she graded. “We went over and over this, and they still don’t get it,” she mumbled to herself. “Who was on the phone?” she asked a second later.

  “Dad.”