I saw Anastasia giggling as I made the waffles, but now I know why. She booby trapped the toilet. After I had relieved myself, I flushed the toilet and got backwater-and not just backwater. It was disgusting. And of course, I was the one who had to clean up the mess.
It was my 'big work day'. I washed my hands thoroughly before starting off. I made the bed, I took out the garbage, I swept, and I fed the cat.
The day went by quickly as I ate the waffles, washed the dishes, and served my stepmother waffles with resent.
As my step-mother and step-sisters traveled to their beds, I traveled to mine. It was pretty awful-when we arrived at this tiny house, step-mother found one double bed and a single bed. She claimed the double bed, and bought a bunk bed for her precious daughters. Instead of offering the bed to me, she sold it. So, naturally the little husband's daughter-the brat, the maid, the scum-got the couch. As you could imagine, I got very lengthy sleeps each night.
I could only manage a few hours of rest every night without waking up, sore all over. The couch was lumpy, the fabric scratchy, the cushions hard, and because of the lack of pillows, my neck ached constantly, stiff and sore. The house made noises-creaks, squeaks, groans. The sink was leaky, and the television hummed. Occasionally, Lucifer prowled around in the middle of the night, jumping onto my face with his sharp claws so I could wake up even sooner than imagined. When I woke up-due to loud noises, discomfort, Lucifer, one of my step-sisters or step-mother, or if I fell off the couch-I would quickly make breakfast, fill Lucifer's food, clean the bathrooms, tidy up the house, or try to go back to sleep. I never dreamed. I was always too exhausted. I knew my step-sisters dreamed-once I walked in on Drizella muttering about me in her sleep, saying such foul words that I'm positive even her mother would disprove of. Whenever I woke up, though, I was not in a good mood. Really, though, how could I be happy in conditions like that?
As I rose, a queer idea formed in my mind-a very bad idea indeed. But I was sick of being kind and pleasant towards horrible people-it was time I got a little bit of revenge.
When I first came to live with my step-mother, I had not been expected to cook the food and wash the floors. My main jobs were simply to make my bed as well as my step-sisters and step-mother's, to feed Lucifer (who was just a grumpy, but slightly cute, kitten), and to clean the bathroom sinks. That was when my father was still alive-he thought the tasks reasonable-so in fact did I. Those are normal chores. However, when my father passed away, step-mother suddenly became very cruel and unpleasant. Her fast change in attitude frightened me-I was so afraid, that, once, when I was washing my hands and the tap broke, I was too afraid to tell my step-mother. I knew at once that she would blame me for the broken tap, even though I had done nothing more than turn them a quarter-turn each. With water spraying from the tap, quickly soaking me and the ground, I panicked. I ran down to the toolshed where my father kept his tools. I snatched up a wrench-the typical plumbing tool-and stumbled back into the bathroom, slipping on the wet floor. With adrenaline pumping through my veins, I flung open the cupboard doors and instinctively started turning nuts and screws, tightening and loosening, until miracle of miracles, I fixed it. I was so pleased with myself, that whenever something broke, immediately I went to help. Though my step-mother was reluctant at first, for fear that I might make it worse, she eventually gave in, giving me the repairman title. So, I had a very good knowledge of pipes and such.
The plan was very simple to me-just rig the taps in our current bathroom so that the sprayed the next person. I didn't see how it was possible that step-mother could blame me, as long as no one caught me at it. I dashed into the bathroom and started fiddling, and just as I was making the last few turns, I heard something stirring from the room connected. I exited through my step-mother's door, returning to the kitchen. I relaxed a little. It was just Drizella.
I'm not sure how long I was out for, but I had certainly nodded off by the time Drizella stormed into my room-sorry, her room-and hissed, "Cinderella, you get off your butt and clean the toilet!"
I glared at her, quite snoozy, and said back, groggily, "Clean it yourself. What's wrong with it? I cleaned it last night!"
Looking slightly embarrassed, Drizella whispered, careful to not wake Anastasia up, "I used it, all right? Your waffles upset my tummy." I laughed, but Drizella snarled, "AND YOU ARE IN MY BED. You know what step-mother would say?"
"She'd tell you that you need to learn how to sit still on the potty," I replied, rubbing my eyes free of sleep. I suddenly smelled the worst smell imaginable emanate from Drizella. I gagged, disgusted by her flatulence. Even Anastasia's snoring ceased.
Drizella curled her lip. "Listen, brat. I'm going to give you till five. Then I'll go tell step-mother that you sullied the toilet AND that you slept in my bed!"
Knowing she would stay true to her word (through experience), I muttered, "Sullied the toilet. Yeah, right." I entered the bathroom and was blown away by the smell. And not in a good way. Our lack of money also meant a lack of fans. Normally we simply opened the window-and presto! Coolness or warmth, whichever we needed. Most of the time, that sufficed. Most of the time, though, people didn't let out fumes such as the ones steaming from the toilet. Somehow, Drizella had managed to dirty not only the toilet bowl and toilet seat, but the rim underneath and the base of the toilet!
If I had things my way, I would have replaced the toilet. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option, so I grabbed the toilet brush and a giant tub of soap. Ten minutes later, I was done. I had also added another 'bonus' for whoever used the toilet next-same trick as Anastasia's.
I know I ranted on about my loneliness. But I wasn't so alone. I had Jack and Gus. And other various mice that liked to visit. Lucifer detested them. And my bird, Pino. Other bluebirds visited me-they loved to help, the sweethearts. Lucifer often glared at poor Jack and Gus, but simply traumatized Pino by climbing onto his cage and snarling at him. It was difficult feeding my little pets and other animals, but I managed. I took scraps from my own meals. Otherwise, step-mother would get suspicious. She didn't monitor my cooking too closely, but she did give me a limited allowance and watched how many portions I made.
I was still in my nightie, rushing around the house, cleaning. I was behind because of the toilet. Even though it was six in the morning-time that I would use, if I could, to bathe, eat, and prepare myself for the day-Drizella was watching television, entranced in a rerun of her favourite television show. Anastasia was eating breakfast, and step-mother was just getting up. I had already drawn a bath for her, and I was glad of her timing. When I had left the bathroom, the bath water was scalding. By the time she undressed and climbed into it, however, it would be perfect. I was pleased with myself.
The doorbell rang, and it seemed rather dreamlike. It couldn't be true-must've been my imagination. There was no way someone would actually come to our house at six in the morning. Insane. I shook my head and went to get a glass of water-my head obviously wasn't clear.
"CINDERELLA!" Anastasia and Drizella shrieked in unison.
"What?"
"The doorbell rang you street urchin. Go find out who it is!" Drizella yelled back.
Dang.
I opened the door and found a black man with blond hair grinning shyly at me. He was carrying some sort of box and was dressed in a very fancy red shirt and with gold cuffs and crisp black pants. He stifled a yawn and said, "Home of the Tremaines?"
I nodded, and opened the door to him, not really caring if he was some kind of insane murderer or just a guy. He walked in, paused, and looked back at me questionably. "Do you want me to remove my shoes?" he asked politely, and my heart melted. What a sweet man. How nice of him.
I shook my head and led him into the living room. Or family room. Whatever, they were one room. The T.V. room, I suppose. Anastasia walked in right away, smiling at him in her too short nightie. Drizella eyed him suspiciously.
He set down the box he was holding, and it started playing music and sputtering sparkles and lights. He approached Anastasia, said, "You are the lovely Anastasia, I presume?" After she nodded in amazement, he started singing a love song, and very beautifully too, if I might add. Then it clicked. Step-mother had sent him in for Anastasia to flirt with! Big surprise there. It was obviously her last ditch attempt to make me feel bad about myself before my first day of school began. I was surprised that this man had accepted this offer-to what, even, come over and sing? It seemed ridiculous. But after all, the man looked like a good man, and the good were very willing.
His song ended, and he smiled at Anastasia. Drizella let out a disapproving snort. Anastasia froze in between decision. I watched, clearing up plates. I liked this man. And therefore, the last thing I would want for him would be to date Anastasia. But wait. I cleared my mind. He was an older man with apparent good manners and a pleasant disposition. He would not date Anastasia-she was not remotely attractive, she did not have the roundest body, and we were certainly not rich. Besides those things-with I would think wouldn't matter to this man, anyway-she was a teenager and, simply enough, she was just a horrible human being.
So it was to my amazement when Anastasia smirked at him and sat down on the couch next to Drizella and sneered, "You suck at singing." Well, in truth, she ended with a very offending word, that, if I heard a child of mine using, I would slap their bottoms silly. How dare she. I growled menacingly, but it seemed the man could handle himself. He marched over to me.
"I'm so, so, so, so, so, so very sorry! You have no idea! She's such a rude person, though, take no mind to her. You have a lovely voice, by the way-I'm not just saying that," I spoke breathlessly.
The man's face softened slightly, and said, "Thank you. I've had voice lessons since I've been very young."
"I can tell! I like singing quite a bit. How come you came over and did this, by the way?"
"I'm a hired sing-a-gram," he replied, then, seeing the confused look on my face, explained further. "People hire me to sing a certain song or type of songs. It's a lot of fun-for now, I'm doing it for cash, experience, and good resumé work."
"It sounds really cool," I said with an encouraging smile. I heard the bath draining, and felt my own blood drain out of my face. He didn't need step-mother's bull. "Listen, what do we owe you? I'm sure you don't want to stick around here."
"Oh, no, it's fine, really. It doesn't feel right taking money from you," he said with a shrug.
"Great. You don't think I'm the maid, do you?" I asked, pouting a little.
He bellowed out a long laugh. "You? A maid! No, sweetheart, you're too pretty to be a maid for a family like this. But I've got to run now-it was nice meeting you. Interesting to meet your family, to say the least!"
"Oh, but you must take something! And they aren't really my family," I said, thrusting some spare change at him.
He smiled at me, patted my shoulder, and closed my hand around the money. "Don't worry. I'll do fine. And I have a feeling you will, too." And he departed. I was sad to see him go.
Step-mother hurried into the kitchen in her little dress with wet hair, looking around frantically. She saw me and said, "Where is he? Wait a second-he isn't here? Where's Anastasia?" She turned to see Anastasia seated on the couch and scowled. "Anastasia, darling, where's that nice man gone?" she cooed silkily, practically floating over to Anastasia.
"What, you mean that-" she used the word again "Oh, he just left. Cinderella was talking to him."
I saw the smile falter on step-mother's face, apparently both from the word her daughter used and the fact that I had 'lured' him away. Of course that was the easy approach Anastasia could take-oh, she didn't turn him out, Cinderella lured him away by talking to him. I swear, they acted as if men didn't like my step-sisters because they weren't easy. Yeah. If they were any easier, they'd be the math problem 'What does 1+1 equal?'
"Anastasia, ladies shouldn't use that word," step-mother said, and I had to give her credit for that. She had a least a little bit of class. She turned to me, losing her kind tone. "Cinderella, how dare you interfere with Anastasia and that man! It was extremely rude of you! You should be ashamed of yourself! You are to wear your housework clothes to school and clean the windows and dust everything! How dare you!"
Right. Because I could wear any other clothes anyway. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but merely said meekly, "Yes, step-mother."
She sneered evilly at me and hissed, "And my bathwater was cold."
I held back tears as step-mother marched away and Drizella snickered at me. I could do nothing right. I couldn't defend myself. I was forced to cook and clean. I was stuck. But the man-whatever his name was-was inspiring. I wanted to do something with my life. Something big. Something different. Just something. We had one more thing in common-I loved singing. I wasn't too bad at it, either. Maybe, one, day, I could be big on stage, I could have my name written in flashing lights and sign my autograph on someone's back. I wanted to be a star; I wanted to be big. But, as everyone knew, to be big, you had to start small.
:) Rae
ReplyDelete