Cinderella: Ninja Warrior

by Maureen McGowan

  Energy from the wand coursed through her and she slowly raised it. The pumpkin rose, too.

  Joy rushed through her and the pumpkin wavered. She sucked in a sharp breath, but let it out slowly, refusing to let panic creep in and ruin everything she had worked so hard for.

  Focused on the pumpkin, she raised the wand again, and the instrument tingled in her fingers, almost as if it wanted to jump out and do this on its own, which made her hold on more tightly. Power surged along her arm, making it difficult to keep still as the pumpkin lifted higher and higher.

  But she was doing it. With the wand’s help—and her real mother’s spirit—she was lifting the largest and heaviest object she’d ever tried to lift, doing as well as many of her competitors, and all of them had trained with wizards who’d guided them with more than meows and the occasional paw to the head.

  About two feet away from the height of the pedestal, the pumpkin stalled. Just a bit more and she could slide it into place. Gripping the wand even more tightly, a powerful surge of energy flowed through her and she felt weightless.

  The crowd roared, and yet the pumpkin was lowering, getting closer to the ground.

  Wait—there was a reason she felt weightless. The pumpkin hadn’t dropped lower; she’d actually lifted off the ground. Frowning, but concentrating, she focused back on the pumpkin and flicked her wand slightly, hoping to tame it to her will.

  Her feet landed back on the ground.

  The pumpkin exploded.

  Everyone within twenty feet ducked as pumpkin flesh and seeds and chunks of rind flew everywhere. The crown of the pumpkin landed right on Cinderella’s head. Standing with her mouth open, she picked a seed out before closing it.

  “Thank you, competitor number ninety-eight,” the announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers. Then he turned and addressed the crowd. “Let’s look to see what she scored for that very dynamic and creative attempt.”

  Cinderella lifted her head toward the scoreboard. Maybe she’d get some credit for lifting the pumpkin so high, for taking flight herself before it exploded? She twirled the wand in her fingers nervously.

  The crowd gasped. So did she. Zero points. The judges had given her zero.

  Even the contestants who’d barely lifted the pumpkin had scored a few points.

  The announcer raised his hands to quiet the protesting crowd. “The judges tell me that destruction of the pumpkin means a default. That is too bad, as it was rather entertaining.” The crowd shouted more dissent.

  Cinderella’s legs gave out and she slumped to the ground, burying her head in her hands. With zero points on this round, how would she ever win?

  Before long, it was down to only twenty-three contestants in both the wand and no-wand groups combined. No one had a perfect record; each of the remaining wanna-be wizards would be out with even one more failure.

  “Remaining wand contestants, step forward, please,” the announcer’s voice boomed, and the group of nine stepped onto the floor.

  Ten wizards stood opposite them, arms crossed over their chests and all wearing different-colored robes. The crowd murmured as if they guessed what was coming, and Cinderella looked over to the faces of her fellow contestants to see if any of them could offer any clues. All she saw was abject fear.

  She scanned the crowd for Ty. Seeing him right now might make her feel better, more confident, but he was nowhere to be found in the lower sections where she could make out some faces.

  Higher in the stands, she saw that the prince was seated and had moved forward on his chair in anticipation. His purple velvet cape was lined with snow-white fur and his crown, sitting on tightly tied-back hair, glistened in the afternoon light.

  Although she couldn’t make out his features from this distance, she couldn’t really understand why girls thought he was so special. Sitting on that fancy chair, his hair all tied back, his clothing so ornate, he really did look stiff and stuffy, despite what Ty had said about him.

  The announcer waved his wand in a huge, sweeping gesture, and a second later, Cinderella saw her reflection. The announcer had used magic to build a clear wall a foot in front of the line of contestants. She and a few of the others tentatively reached forward to touch the barrier. Hard as rock but pulsating, it sent vibrations through her body, and she pulled her hand back.

  From what did they need protection?

  The first contestant, number 63, was called out from behind the screen. The largest of the entire group, he was close to six and a half feet tall, towering over the rest of them.

  The announcer said something she couldn’t hear from behind the clear barrier and 63 braced himself, raising his wand in front of his face in a defensive mode. He took a step forward, and that was when Cinderella noticed a red line about twenty feet ahead of the boy. It appeared all he had to do was cross that line. But it couldn’t be that simple, could it?

  He took another step, and a huge flame shot toward him.

  Cinderella’s head snapped toward the group of wizards across the arena floor, and she tried to guess from whose direction it had come, but was distracted as another wizard flicked her wand to send a huge swarm of bees toward the boy.

  He ducked under the flame—it barely singed the cloth of his shirt—but he didn’t move fast enough to avoid the bees. He waved his wand frantically, but it only seemed to increase the number of bees. Number 63 had barely regained his balance when a fireball hit him square in the chest. The boy was engulfed in flames and Cinderella gasped. Surely the wizards wouldn’t let a competitor die!

  The boy tossed his wand in the air—the signal of surrender and defeat. Immediately, the announcer flicked his wrist, and the flames disappeared. The crowd clapped politely, but it was clear from the expressions on the few faces Cinderella could make out in the crowd that they’d been shocked and disappointed by how badly 63, so far the favorite in the wand group, had fared.

  Patiently yet eagerly waiting for her turn, Cinderella watched the other contestants, hoping to figure out some kind of strategy, but every new contestant was given different challenges. Where ducking the flame had worked for the first boy, the next flame shot had angled directly toward the contestant’s feet, and jumping aside had been the only way to avoid being burnt to a crisp.

  Cinderella kept thinking about the clear wall in front of them—built from thin air—and the swirling tornado she had recently created to fend off the wolves. Instead of dealing with each challenge one by one, she wondered if she could build a shield to protect herself from all of the magical weapons?

  Two contestants had tried sprinting, only to be frozen in place or pushed back by winds, and the tall girl in the bright blue suit was the only one to have made it across the line so far. She’d done a dizzying display of acrobatics, leaping and flipping and twisting through the air, diving over fire, ducking under swarms of bats, and leaping over a river of molten lava.

  Cinderella’s acrobatic skills were good, but not that good, and she realized that her ninja warrior aspirations were still many years beyond her grasp.

  Her number was called and, fighting to control her sudden shaking, she strode out from behind the shield to the starting line.

  “You’ve seen the other competitors perform,” the announcer said. “Any questions?”

  She shook her head, unable to think of any except How do I stop the horrible things they’re going to throw at me? And she knew he wouldn’t answer that one.

  “Are you ready?” the announcer asked, and she nodded in reply.

  “Go!” he shouted.

  Although a very big part of her wanted to sprint for the red line as fast as she could, she held up her wand, focused on a pole just past the finish line, and started to spin her body in circles. She kept her eyes focused on the pole, snapping her head around with each turn as a funnel of air formed around her. The air built and swirled, and she barely saw a flash of light when what must have been a fireball glinted off the side of her personal tornado and then shot toward the s
tands.

  A roar rose, but she blocked it out. Concentration was crucial.

  Still spinning, she moved forward, bringing her air funnel with her and continuing to spot like a dancer, keeping her eyes on the pole behind the finish line to avoid dizziness. Through the wall of swirling air, she now caught sight of a wall of water, a wave that had to be twelve feet high. It rushed toward her and she braced herself, concentrating as she pressed forward. The wave knocked both her and her tornado back a few steps and water drenched her from the funnel’s top, but it held.

  She could do this. She was almost there.

  The pressure changed in her ears and the ground trembled. The line was right there. It was so close, but her limbs felt like lead, and pushing her tunnel of air forward became akin to pushing against a mountain.

  Looking up, she saw what looked like a storm headed her way. Just a few steps to go, but no longer spotting the pole, she lost her balance and the wand wavered, moving erratically in her hand.

  Her tornado forced her sideways. She was almost at the line. Enough with the funnel. Time to break it and run.

  She raised her wand and flicked it, but must have done something wrong, because instead of disappearing, her wind tunnel turned to smoke. She choked as the acrid air filled her lungs and stung her eyes.

  The next moment, she was slammed backward, her arms and legs flailing in all directions. A windstorm picked her up and she flew down the field to land on her back—the starting line was beneath her head. Refusing to give up, she rolled onto her belly and crawled backward toward the red line, but the force of the wind was too strong. Every muscle in her body strained; she turned and lifted her wand, hoping she could cast a spell to stop the wind.

  Then a bolt of lightning struck her wand, and it flew from her hand.

  The time horn sounded and the storm ended. She’d finished the event lying facedown on the dirt. Her wand, miraculously unharmed, was about four feet from her hand.

  The announcer came over to offer her help, but she jumped to her feet and willed the wand to rise up from the ground and drift back into her hand.

  The crowd roared its approval, but it didn’t matter. She’d failed at the task. She hadn’t been able to cross the line. This was her third failed event. For Cinderella, the competition was over, and her chance to win lessons with the royal wizard had died.

  Her throat closed and she dragged herself over to the bench of eliminated competitors. Now she’d be trapped forever.

  The courtyard outside the arena was filled with spectators hoping to congratulate the contestants, and Cinderella wished she were taller to improve her chances of finding Ty, if he were here. Sadness crept over her like a dark, heavy blanket. Not only had she lost, she’d lost her surest way to see Ty again.

  Trying to think positively, she turned her face to the sun. It would likely be the last time she’d feel sunlight on her face for a while. Gauging by the sun’s angle, she realized she had at least five hours before she needed to be home to save Max from a future as a rodent. This should be plenty of time to find Ty.

  Her heart filled with excitement at this thought and she wondered whether she should risk telling him about her stepmother’s entrapment spells. He seemed to know a few wizards, and one of them might be able to keep them from turning into stone when she spilled the beans. But the consequences of being wrong on that bet were too high, and she decided against it.

  She couldn’t take that chance, especially not with Ty.

  Even if she never saw him again, even if she remained trapped for the rest of her life, she’d be happier knowing he was out in the world, happy and free. And Ty was both of those things. Ty’s smile, his eyes, his posture—everything about him radiated joy and confidence.

  She heard her stepmother’s voice and her head snapped toward it out of habit. She ducked behind a group of people congratulating one of her fellow contestants.

  “I’m telling you,” her stepmother said, “if you don’t immediately direct me to someone in charge, I’ll turn you into a toad.”

  Cinderella shivered and ducked behind a large man. Maybe she didn’t have five hours to get home, after all.

  “Madam,” one of the wizards who’d organized the event said, “I am certain your threat was merely a figure of speech. Threatening another wizard is an offense punishable by a minimum of three years in the castle dungeon.”

  Cinderella peeked out from behind the man shielding her.

  “Well . . .” Her stepmother took a couple of steps back and her lips pursed. “Of course, of course. I apologize for my rudeness. But my daughters were robbed of their crowns in the beauty competition, and since a boy won the magic competition, I think it’s only right that one of my lovely daughters gets the dance she surely would have won if she’d entered the magic competition instead.” She glanced around and Cinderella ducked. “I’d also like to meet the young man who won. I’m always interested in young magic talent and I’d love to take the boy under my wing and—shall we say—mold his innate talents.”

  The wizard gestured behind him, a look of clear irritation on his face. “Feel free to look around, Madam. The contestants were invited here for a feast after the awards ceremony, but many have already gone on to the palace dressing rooms to prepare for the ball.”

  Cinderella reached behind her to remove the number from her back. Keeping her eyes on her stepmother, she dashed between groups of people so she could remain hidden from the evil wizard she’d lived with all these years.

  A hand landed on her shoulder and Cinderella’s heart froze. She’d been watching her stepmother, but had no idea where her stepsisters were. If one of them had found her, they’d reveal her location in an instant. She couldn’t bare to look to see who it was.

  “Excuse me,” an unfamiliar female voice said. Cinderella slowly turned to find the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen directly in front of her. Gold and silver ringlets of hair danced around her fair skin, and her cheeks were tinged with roses. Her bright green eyes were like the grass after a rain. The woman’s gown was spectacular too, intricately constructed with pleats and delicate overstitching and elegantly sewn from a pale blue fabric that reflected the sunlight as she extended a graceful hand toward Cinderella.

  Hoping her stepmother was looking in the other direction, she curtsied to the woman.

  “Oh, no need for such formalities,” the woman said, and then laughed with a warmth that pushed aside Cinderella’s fear and some of her awe. “I’m Jenna.”

  “Cinderella,” she replied without thinking. Why would such an elegant woman even care what her name was?

  “That’s an unusual name,” she said, taking Cinderella’s hand.

  “It’s a nickname.” Cinderella felt herself blush.“It’s been my nickname for so long, I think I’ve forgotten what my father called me.” Well, she remembered her father calling her Sweetie, Pumpkin, and My Tiny Love. But nothing else, and she’d been called Cinderella every day since he’d died. She couldn’t imagine another name now.

  “I think it’s lovely.” The woman’s smile was so warm, so perfect, and her bright green eyes flashed something that could only be kindness. “You did very well out there today.”

  Cinderella shook her head and said, “No, I didn’t.” She tapped her wand, now tucked securely back in her pocket. “It was my first time using a wand, and I fear I’m not very talented.”

  “Nonsense,” said Jenna.

  Over Jenna’s shoulder, Cinderella caught a glimpse of her stepmother walking in their direction, and her eyes widened in horror.

  Jenna tipped her head slightly and, as if sensing something was wrong, pulled Cinderella to the side of the courtyard and turned so that Cinderella was hidden behind her. “I have a message for you,” she said, and Cinderella’s heart immediately lifted. From Ty? No, that was crazy. More likely that Ty would be delivering messages for this elegant woman than the other way around.

  “I’m one of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting,” Je
nna said. “Are you attending the ball this evening?”

  Cinderella raised her fingers to her lips to stifle her gasp.“Oh, no,” she answered, looking down over the pumpkin-splattered outfit Max had made her. “I would love to, but I’m afraid I don’t have anything suitable to wear.”

  “Don’t let that hold you back.” Jenna reached her hand up and tucked a strand of hair behind Cinderella’s ear. “The prince was impressed by your performance and would very much like the pleasure of a dance with you this evening.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t. Not . . .” She gripped the fabric of her trousers, unsure what to say.

  On second thought, maybe if she went to the ball, she’d have another chance to find Ty.

  “Don’t worry about your clothing,” Jenna said. “It might take some hemming and a few nips and tucks, but I’m sure you’ll be able to find something to your liking in either my dressing room or that of one of the other ladies-in-waiting.”

  “Really?” Her heart soared and then she stopped herself. “Oh, that’s too kind of you, but I couldn’t. I mean, what if I tore something? And I’d look silly in such fine garments.”

  “Nonsense,” Jenna said. “I’m sure you’re very pretty under those pumpkin seeds and the smudges of soot on your face.” She rubbed Cinderella’s cheek with her thumb. “Please say yes.”

  If you were Cinderella, what would you do?

  OPTION A: Cinderella should take the lady-in-waiting up on her offer. She’s got nearly five hours before Max turns into a mouse, and if she’s really lucky, she might run into Ty at the ball. He said he’d be working there. If you think she should say yes, go to section 7: If the Shoe Fits (page 211).

  OPTION B: Cinderella should tell the lady-in-waiting thanks, but no thanks. She’s barely got five hours before Max turns into a mouse, and there’s no way she’s going to take any chances. It’s much better to get through those woods before dark, anyway. She’d rather use what little time she has to find Ty and tell him how much she appreciated his help and support. If you think she should turn down the lady-in-waiting, go to section 8: Fall from Grace (page 245).