The Silver Stiletto

by Isabella Olivia Ellis

  “Can you at least tell me your name? Or give me your number?”

  Cinderella shook her head as she finally freed the doors. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m, I’m just sorry.” And with that, she shoved the doors open and raced down the corridor and back down the stairs. Everyone was still at the party in the lower level ballroom, so no one noticed her as she ran out the main entryway and out to the waiting limousines. Her feet were absolutely killing her, so once she reached the sidewalk leading to the driveway, she stopped to take off her heels. The driver of hers was leaning against the hood, reading a magazine. He glanced up, spotted her, and rushed to open the door for her.

  “Have a good evening, Miss?” he called, as she painfully made her way over to him.

  She was about to answer when she heard, “Stop! Wait, please!”

  Cinderella turned to see Devon standing in the doorway to the massive home, but she knew she couldn’t stop. Brushing past the driver, she slid into the back of the limo and pulled the door shut behind her. As the driver pulled the vehicle around the driveway and to the road, she watched as Devon raced down the steps, waving his arm to try to get her to stop. Then, she noticed him stop, stoop down, and pick something up from the ground.

  It wasn’t until they were speeding away to her own home that Cinderella realized she only had one of her stilettos.

  Chapter Seven

  It was exactly 11:59 pm when the driver dropped Cinderella off at her house. As she unlocked the front door, she happened to glance back, but the limo was nowhere in sight. Gasping when she realized what that meant, she looked down to see that she was now completely naked and carrying nothing but her keys and a single silver stiletto. She flushed with embarrassment, shoved the door open, and hurried to her room. Once inside its simple walls, she felt she could breathe again. After rifling through her dresser, she dressed in simple gray shorts and a pink tank top, and flopped down on her bed to bury her face in her covers.

  The night had been much more than she expected. First of all, Cinderella never could have imagined being introduced to the governor’s son. Nor could she have ever dreamed of hitting it off so well with him. Alas, what would he think if he found out who she really was? She was a girl with nothing to her name, basically just an indentured servant in what used to be her own home. It was terribly obvious that she would never be able to see him again. He would expect the girl in pink tulle and lace, a mysterious beauty new to the city, probably with a trust fund and an Ivy League education to back her up. The other women at the party had been those types, and she knew she could never compete with it. What did she have to offer? Try as she might, Cinderella couldn’t stop being hard on herself. It’s what years of living with Priscilla, Missy, and Cassandra had done to her.

  She rolled over onto her side, and stared blankly at her plain surroundings. While her stepmother and stepsisters all lived in plush bedrooms suites on the second floor, all filled with the best furniture and décor money- her father’s money -could buy, she made do with a small room in the former servant’s quarters. Sure, it was cozy thanks to her small touches, but it wasn’t comfortable. Nor was it a true home. The single silver stiletto she had tossed to the floor caught her eye, and Cinderella sat up straight in wonder. Shouldn’t it have disappeared like my dress? Picking it up, she turned it over and over, as though trying to find some magical quality to it. What does it mean?

  With a start, she finally realized what Devon must have picked up. Her other shoe! The magic must not have worn off of them because they had been separated. Though, what could she do with a single shoe? Keep it as a memory of the one night she got to escape her reality, she supposed. If only the fairy godfather would reappear and give her some answers, and maybe a little more help. Unfortunately, she had no knowledge of how to summon him, even if she did think he could or would assist her further. Cinderella almost wished that the day had never happened. At least, that way she wouldn’t pine for a man she barely knew and believed in her heart she could never have. With one last wistful sigh, Cinderella closed her eyes and fell asleep hugging the shoe.

  Chapter Eight

  Loud pounding on her bedroom door awoke Cinderella. Her eyes fluttered open, and then squinted against the sun shining through her window blinds.

  “Cin! You’ve overslept! It’s nearly 9 am and there’s no breakfast on the table.”

  Cinderella grimaced. Priscilla’s voice was never a welcome treat in the morning. Or at any time to be quite honest. After groaning in annoyance and stretching her arms above her head, she called out,

  “Okay, Stepmother. I will be out in just a moment.”

  After dressing in her staple outfit, a simple dress and a crisp apron, Cinderella made her way into the kitchen. Already, she could hear the impatient chatter of Missy and Cassandra. Clearly, they’d rather go hungry waiting for her than actually deign to lift a finger to feed themselves.

  “There you are!” exclaimed Missy. “We’ve been waiting for at least half an hour.”

  “Yes,” chimed in Cassandra, “That was unbelievably rude, Cin. I mean, what is Mother keeping you for if you aren’t doing your work, really?”

  Knowing better than to get into it with Cass, Cinderella just shook her head and went to the fridge for some eggs. Now that they could be sure their breakfast was on its way, her two stepsisters went on to things they obviously felt were more important.

  “Did you get the text from Evelyn this morning?” asked Missy, after taking a sip of her orange juice.

  Cassandra’s eyes with round with gossip hungriness. “No! What was it about?”

  “Apparently, Devon Bennet is searching for a girl he spent most of the party with.”

  Cinderella’s heart nearly stopped when she heard Devon’s name. She tried to inconspicuously return to mixing pancake batter.

  Priscilla breezed into the kitchen, smoothing a last bit of foundation onto her cheek. “What is this about the Bennet boy, girls?”

  Missy leaned forward in her seat in a conspiratorial fashion. “He is planning on visiting every house in town that had a girl attend the ball last night, looking for the one he apparently fell head over heels for.”

  “He doesn’t even know her name?” Cass asked, as she checked her own phone for missed texts.

  “No! That’s the thing. Apparently, he didn’t get her name AND she never took off her mask. So he doesn’t even know what her face looks like. All he has to go on is the single shoe she left behind.”

  With a laugh, Cass said, “That’s positively crazy!”

  Tapping her fingers together like a movie villain, Priscilla mused on this for a moment. “Girls, I have an idea. Why don’t we discuss it after breakfast?” She glanced dismissively at Cinderella. “In private, of course.”

  Cinderella, who had turned back to the stove, rolled her eyes at this. As if I care about any plans they have, like they could possibly ever be deeper than tanning or something.

  After serving her stepfamily a breakfast of pancakes, and making sure they were occupied, Cinderella retreated to the garden. She sat down on the stone bench once more, and cautiously called out, “Hello? Fairy Godfather?” Nothing happened, aside from Cinderella feeling incredibly silly.

  She tried again, “Fairy Godfather? I need to speak with you.”

  This time, she heard a faint rustle behind her. When she turned, it was the fairy godfather in all his light featured glory, standing underneath the garden’s orange tree. He leaned against the trunk, crossed his arms, and said,

  “Yes?”

  Cinderella stood and stepped gingerly to him. “I was hoping you could help me.”

  “Again?” he scoffed. “Ella, I told you that the magic doesn’t work like that. And, not to mention, you somehow lost a shoe. Loose ends, you know.”

  “I just really need to see Devon again. And he will probably be coming by since the girls went to the ball. I have to present myself well.” She said, wringing her hands in front of her.

  “Onc
e more, it does not work like that. The universe gives you what you truly need at the moment you truly need it. If it goes against what fate already has in store for you, my magic is powerless.”

  Cinderella bit her lip. “So, the universe thinks I need a dress and shoes for a ball? That’s my big cosmic gift?”

  The Fairy sighed. “The time isn’t now, Cinderella. I don’t expect you to understand, as no humans ever will. Your dress and shoes, as silly as they may seem now, are indeed part of a plan.”

  Weakly, she bent her knees beneath her and sat on the ground. The Fairy Godfather had been her one hope. Fighting her strong desire to sob, she just covered her face with her hands.

  Without making a sound, the Fairy Godfather moved next to her. He stooped, kissed her head, and said, “I hope you’ll understand my reasoning one day.”

  And when she looked up again, tears unabashedly rolling down her face, he was nowhere to be seen.

  Chapter Nine

  By the time Cinderella collected herself enough to go back into the house, it was nearly noon. She had wasted precious chore time, and had to bustle to get three loads of laundry sorted and ready to wash. While she was passing by Cassandra’s room with an armload of dirty clothes, she heard her stepsisters talking conspiratorially.

  “Mother says to expect them in just a couple of hours,” Cass said to Missy.

  Missy giggled and asked, “Do you think my hair will be done by then?”

  “Of course! The color is almost done now, then you can wash it out and we’ll dry and style it.”

  Color? Cinderella wondered. What could they possibly be doing? Long ago she had learned not to spend too much time thinking about the strange things her stepfamily found entertaining, so she shook her head and continued downstairs to complete her task.

  Unfortunately, she got the answer to her question after she called everyone down to lunch. Priscilla appeared in the kitchen first, looking even more pleased with herself than usual. Then Cassandra came in with Missy trailing behind. Cinderella gasped when she saw Missy.

  “Your hair.” She said, attempting to say more but not being able to get anything else out.

  “What about her hair, Cin?” asked Priscilla coolly, picking up a slice of apple and biting delicately into it.

  Cinderella looked at her step family in disbelief. Missy’s hair was the exact same shade of blonde as hers. Gone was the dishwater plainness. Now, her strands caught the light and glowed beautifully. Just like Cinderella’s. It was even styled the same. It gave her the creepiest feeling Cinderella had ever felt, looking at this second-rate copy of herself.

  “Why does Missy’s hair look like mine?”

  Cass and Priscilla glanced at each other, both smiling suspiciously.

  “Cin,” began Priscilla, “We suspect that you were at the ball last night. Furthermore, we have a strong feeling that you are the one Devon Bennet is looking for.”

  Cinderella’s skin prickled at the tone in Priscilla’s voice, but she still defiantly asked, “So what if I am?”

  Missy crossed her arms at this and squealed, “Mother! We don’t have time for her games.”

  “You’re right, dear.” Priscilla said. “Cinderella, tell us where the matching shoe is.”

  The meaning of what they were doing dawned on Cinderella, who brought her hands to her mouth in horror. They took this as a sign she wasn’t going to help them, and Priscilla and Cassandra both darted to her quickly, each grabbing an arm and dragging her to the stairs to the attic. Cinderella kicked and screamed the whole way, but she was no match for both of them. They pushed her in and slammed the door shut after her. She heard the latch click shut.

  “Cassandra! Priscilla!” Cinderella screamed, pounding on the heavy wooden door. “Let me out, please!” It was no use. She could hear both women hurrying away from the attic’s entrance, and if they were heading downstairs, they would never hear her cries anyway. Utterly spent from bewilderment, she collapsed onto the rough hardwood floor.

  ***

  Time crept by in the silent attic and Cinderella still couldn’t believe what had happened. Even after knowing her stepfamily’s selfishness for so long, she still couldn’t believe they were capable of this. Missy, of all people, was being presented as her! And since Devon hadn’t seen her face, they might even be able to pull the trick off. Both girls were roughly the same height and shape, and most importantly, the same shoe size. Now that Missy had brightened her hair, their major non-facial difference was taken care of. Oh, if only I had taken off the mask! Or told him my name! Suddenly, being simply the girl who cleaned house and dreamed of something better was nothing to be ashamed of. Her denial of herself was what had caused this mess. Her first inclination was to lay down and give up, but she knew that wouldn’t help anything.

  A loud chiming interrupted her thoughts, and a shiver ran down Cinderella’s spine when she realized what it was. The doorbell. This meant that Devon Bennet and his father must have arrived to try the shoe on Missy’s foot. Panicked, Cinderella raced through her possible options. The attic had a single, small window, but since it was on the third floor, it would be suicide to try to wiggle through it. And since it faced the back, she wouldn’t even be able to call out to the Bennets. She could try to break the door down, but the sturdy wood wasn’t likely to give, especially under pressure from Cinderella’s small body. The only option left was continuing to scream, and hoping the sounds would carry downstairs.

  “Help! Please help! I’m locked in the attic. Help!” Cinderella screamed and yelled until her throat was hoarse, and no one came. She leaned against the door in exhaustion, one hand still clawing into the wood, and fell asleep.

  Chapter Ten

  The attic door was pulled open quickly, and Cinderella spilled out into the hallway.

  “Get up.” A strong voice commanded, and hands were under her arms, pulling her to a standing position. Blake. His handsome face was a storm of barely concealed anger. “I can’t believe they locked you in there.”

  “Blake!” she cried, throwing her arms around her rescuer in a hug. “How did you find me? Is Devon still here?”

  He shook off her questions. “No time, Ella. Go, before those crazy women manage to succeed in their plan.”

  She started to take off for the stairs, then glanced back at him and stopped. “Why did you help me?” she asked softly.

  Blake stepped up to her, and leaned down to brush his lips across her forehead. “You deserve better than this. Even if it isn’t me. Now, go.”

  Before she moved for the stairs again, Cinderella puts her arms around him and squeezed tightly. She would never quite understand him, this paradox of sweet and rough, but she was so thankful. Then, she turned without another look back. Quickly, she flew down the steps and into the formal parlor. It was Priscilla’s favorite place to have company, and today was no exception. Seated in the room were Devon, his father, Priscilla, Cassandra, and Missy. One silver stiletto was on Missy’s foot, and she was holding the matching shoe in her lap. They must have rifled through her room after locking her in the attic.

  Each person looked up in surprise as Cinderella came in, disheveled and out of breath from adrenaline and anger. If she hadn’t been so angry, the expressions on her step family’s faces would have been hysterical. Missy’s mouth formed a perfect O of surprise. Cassandra was glaring with undisguised anger. And Priscilla was opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water. Devon just looked terribly confused, and glanced back and forth between Cinderella and the other women.

  “What’s going on here?” Drake blustered, spilling tea in his lap in the commotion. He ended up looking uncharacteristically undignified.

  “Yes, what is this? Who is this girl?” asked Devon, standing up and crossing his arms.

  Missy giggled nervously. “Oh, Devon! This is just our silly servant girl. She’s sort of simple, you know. We have to keep her in the kitchen or she runs around, messing things up.”

  “Yes,” Priscil
la chimed in, “Just a servant girl. Run along now, dear. We have important matters to attend to.”

  That was it for Cinderella keeping her patience with her stepfamily. She stepped into the center of the room, nearly toe to toe with Devon, and said,

  “I am most certainly not a servant girl. My name is Cinderella Anne Marsden. My father was Theodore Marsden, and owned Marsden Oil Company. These people are my stepsisters and stepmother, though they have certainly never treated me like family. Since my father died when I was 14, I have been treated only slightly better than a slave.”

  “Dear,” said Drake “that’s a terribly sad story. But what does it have to do with my son and your stepsister?”

  “Everything,” Cinderella began “Because your son isn’t looking for Missy, he’s looking for me. I was the girl in the pink dress at the ball last night. And that is my shoe.”

  “Absolutely ridiculous!” cried Priscilla. “My daughter had the matching shoe. You’re just jealous.”

  Cinderella shook her head sadly. “No, Priscilla. I would never be jealous of you or your daughters. You are just mean, sad people.”

  With a cough, Devon interrupted. “I know how to settle this. Whoever can answer my question can prove that they are the girl. Okay?”

  Missy nodded smugly, and tossed a look of defiance in Cinderella’s direction. Cinderella merely rolled her eyes back at her.

  “All right.” He said “What is the name of the book I let the girl hold from our library? Missy?”

  Missy’s couldn’t hide her alarm, and her eyebrows shot up nearly to her hairline. “Um,” she hemmed and hawed. “Well, it was The Catcher in the Rain, of course.”

  Cinderella nearly choked on her laugh. “It’s called The Catcher in the Rye, Missy.”

  “See!” Missy cried accusingly, pointing at Cinderella, “I told you that was the book!”