Chapter 9: Troublemakers

Nearly a full year had passed since the last party. When the party had finally broken up (matching both Anastasia and my own hearts), we had cleaned up quickly and headed off to bed, trying to fix our messed up sleeping schedule. As it turned out, step-mother had been at the party the entire time, watching behind closed doors. She said, "Never again. You will never have another party, and you will never go to another party." Right. Anastasia and Drizella had never been invited to a party anyway, so that wasn't a problem. I had been invited to six or seven parties throughout the year, but I knew step-mother would say no, no matter what.

           I had gone to Mimi, Becky, Lawrence, Michael, and Barry's graduating ceremony. Lawrence and Michael both asked me to be their prom date, and I was so shocked I didn't know who to say yes to. Appearance wise, they were both pretty attractive. Personality wise, however, they were quite different. They were both really friendly, Lawrence a bit more so. Lawrence was really smart, but Michael was outdoorsy and played quite a few sports-he was the football quaterback. In the end, I decided to say yes to Michael-after all, although he was a bit of a suck-up, it just be because he was being nice. I thought he had kinder eyes, anyway.

           But I never got to tell Mike the good news or break the bad news to Lawrence because step-mother told me I couldn't go anyway. The boys looked sad when I told them but snatched up new prom dates by the end of the day. Oh well. Step-mother couldn't deprive me of my own prom when my turn came.

           Becky was one of the few girls who wasn't crying when the grad ceremony was over. She said that she had a good life, and though we all had to move on, she would always stay in touch with her friends. She had looked right at me while she was saying her speech and said, "And some of them aren't even going anywhere... yet." She was awesome.

           The summer had been fairly uneventful. More relaxing, and I got to hang out with my friends from time to time, too. Tenth grade was hard, though, but I had managed to keep my grades up, similar to the previous year. My final average as a freshie was 87. 

           I had grow apart from Talan, too. He started dating lots of different girls, during which time Anastasia sobbed in her bed. Step-mother had worried for her, pampering her so much that she had pretty much given Drizella and me free reign. Drizella, upset with the lack of attention, started really concentrating on her schoolwork. Although she wouldn't go to college, for a lack of money, Drizella wanted to have a good resumé. 

 Drizella and I were being forced to sit next to each other on the bus ride home because Anastasia wasn't on it. "Where is she?" I asked.

           "I think she stayed home," Drizella said.

           No. She was on the bus in the morning. I looked at Drizella.

           "I mean, I think she went home. Maybe she was sick."

           But that was a lie. We looked at each other and then looked away. It had become a habit of Anastasia to only talk to Talan when he was either alone or with me. Neither happened very often any more. Today, I was talking to Talan on our way out of class, and we passed by Anastasia. Just as I knew she would, Anastasia waltzed up and joined in on conversation. Moments later, Talan's new girlfriend (whose name he didn't even know, apparently) marched up. "Tal-Tal!" she shrieked, and then pulled him forward by the shirt. "My big Talan..." she purred, and then the two of them started making out. It was disgusting and sloppy and just plain nasty. I glanced at Anastasia, and tears had sprung to her eyes before she ran away to the girls' bathroom.

           "She told me that she was calling mother," Drizella admitted, looking down. "She was crying."

           I nodded, lost for words. Thankfully, we were pulling up to the house, saving me. As I waited for Drizella to get up, I saw our neighbour, Mitch, going home. Odd. Things were quite awkward between our two families. 

           Anastasia was waiting for us as we came home. She was struggling against something. "CINDERELLA!" she shrieked. There went all my pity. 

           "Yes, Anastasia?"

           "Look what I found!" Anastasia said triumphantly and demonstrated to me Jack. 

           I was confused. Anastasia was terrified of my mice. "Um, so?"

           She looked disappointed by my lack of alarm. "Freak," she spat, "If you don't do what I say, I'll... I'll kill him!" 

           Unimpressed, I made a grab for my mousey. "C'mon, Anastasia, I know it's killing you right now to touch Jack. Give him back."

           "No!" Anastasia laughed cruelly. "Never yo-ahhh!" She flung Jack in the air and I ran for him. "EWWWW!" Anastasia screamed, flailing.

           I ran out and jumped, hands outstretched to catch Jack. Please, please, please... Jack would not survive the fall... My fingers touched a silky surface and immediately closed around it. I fell face first, making sure that I wouldn't land on Jack. I sat up and peered into my hands. Jack was squeaking frantically, twitching his little nose, one of his whiskers bent. "Ssh, ssh... are you okay?" I whispered into my hands, feeling Jack's heart beating frantically against my hand. "Are you okay?" I repeated. He was. I rubbed his head, promised him some treats, and let him go in the grass. Then I turned to Anastasia, who was smashing her hand into the grass.

           "What the hell was that for? He could have died!" I shouted.

           "He pooped on my hand!" she wailed. Oh she was so dumb. 

           I pushed Anastasia away. When she grabbed my shoulder, I whirled around violently. "What do you want, Anastasia, and make it quick. I have a lot of things to do and I'm sick of you wasting my time."

           She sneered. "Oh, you think you're so high and mighty, don't you? Well I've got news for you! You're a freaking loser!"

           "I'm a loser? I am the loser?" I laughed like a lunatic at this lucrative idea. "You have no friends! You have no life! YOU are the loser, Ana-freaking-stasia!"

           "Funny, because you haven't ever had a boyfriend!" 

           "That's rich coming from you!" I shouted, a little hurt. It was true. I had been asked out to the prom by two 12 grade boys, hadn't I? But maybe they just meant it as friends... 

           "What is THAT suppose to mean?!" Anastasia shouted, completely losing it.

           "You've never had a boyfriend! You drool at the sight of Talan! You desperately wear revealing clothes-which only reveal the fact that you're as flat as a pancake, by the way-in an attempt to have boys come after you!"

           "I drool at the sight of Talan? I see you after him all the time, trying to get in his pants! I saw the two of you at lunch the other day, you playing with his hair before he shook you off!" Anastasia screamed, her voice breaking. He hadn't shaken me off. And I wasn't playing with his hair, he had a piece of fluff in it. Really. 

           Anastasia continued, drawing in a deep, ragged breath. "And how can you even call me a slut! I wear cute clothes whereas you wear rags with all kinds of who-know-what on them! Look at that mark right there, that white mark! You think I don't know what that's from? Why you've been getting such good marks from you male teachers? I know that you stayed behind that one class with Mr. Yorkshire, I know that you were being desperate!"

           "What the hell! He's 28! And he has a long-term girlfriend of five years!"

           "You told me once that you thought he was cute!"

           My cheeks burned, from anger and embarrassment. "I told Talan that, not you!"

           "Talan told me. Sorry, sweetie, but he spends just as much time with me as you, if not more! And you're not denying it, are you?"

           "HE IS CUTE! He won a 'best-looking bachelor' award eight years ago! It doesn't mean that I slept with him! I've never even kissed a guy before!"

           "Exactly! It proves my point! No guy would ever want to be with you!"

           "At least I have friends!"

           "Where are they, orphan girl? Where are your friends? Where are your parents? Where's your precious mommy? Did she fake her own death so she wouldn't have to raise you?"

           "Go to hell," I said coldly, storming inside.

           "And I am not as flat as a pancake!" Anastasia called.

           "Sorry, you're as flat as a board! Cheapo!"

           I furiously dialed Becky on the house phone. "Becky? Can you come over?"

           There was a pause. "Sure thing, hon. Got nothing better to do anyway. Be over in a flash."

           And she was.

           I was thrilled to get to see Becky again. I was a little lonely after she graduated. We chatted for half an hour, catching up on things. Magically, Becky had procured a cup of coffee and sipped it while we talked.

           "So you won't even consider university or college?" I asked. Becky had told me that she had met quite a few boys, but none of them were rich or anything.

           "No, not unless I have to. I guess I just didn't realize how few rich people there were here. I may have to travel," Becky said glumly, her red hair falling over her eyes. 

           "I hope you won't! I'd miss you so much..." We sat there for a minute, thinking. "How are Mimi and Will?"

           Becky shrugged. "Mimi's in university right now, so I don't see her much. She said she loved us and we were a great family and roomates and everything, but it would be a hassle hauling her butt back and forth between residences."

           "She's studying to be a doctor, right?"

           "Incorrect. She followed up her part time job as a restaurant clean up person and enrolled in culinary school. She says she wants to learn every recipe in the book. I told her she'd get more money as a doctor. She told me she didn't care," Becky said, shrugging.

           "And Will?"

           "Same old, same old. You probably see him more than I do. He said that he was in your class this year?"

           "That's Wright," I said, grinning.

           "Very punny, hon," Becky said, but she smiled anyway. 

           Anastasia stormed out through the front door. "Where are you going?" I called.

           "Out."

           "Oh, god. I'm going to have to go after her," I said with a sigh, rolling my eyes at Becky.

           "Do you have any homework?"

           "What?"

           "Do you have any homework?" Becky repeated.

           "Why?"

           "Well, it's kinda boring not having anything to do... And I kinda want to do some brain work," Becky said sheepishly.

           I laughed and tossed her my backpack. "Have a blast!"

           Anastasia got into a taxi, so I quickly summoned one and we followed. We were so close, too close. I asked my driver to pass them, and as we did, Anastasia's taxi stopped. We were near an alley. I asked my drive to stop on the corner. I jumped out, told him I would be back, and sprinted towards the alley. I hid behind the taxi that Anastasia had come in, listening. A raspy, very crackly voice came out, leaking into my ears like a poisonous gas. "So, you want some of the good stuff?" he warbled. His voice sounded like he was about eighty, but he was probably in his twenties. 

           To my surprise, Anastasia's quavering voice answered nervously. "I, I think so... I'm afraid I don't have the money now..."

           Relief spread through me. Surely Anastasia couldn't do anything bad now. I listened carefully, in case the man hit her or something. "That's okay. You can pay next time."

           "How can you trust me to come back?" Anastasia said, obviously scared.

           "One time's enough to get hooked to this stuff. Trust me, you'll want to come back for this, if not me," he said. I could practically smell his greasy hair and I could pretty much picture his leering face getting closer to Anastasia. "I know you want me, babe."

           I stood up a little, and looked through the car window. I couldn't see anything. I looked hard, and noticed Anastasia's cab driver. She looked kind. Was she waiting because Anastasia asked her to, or because she wanted to look out for her? I pressed my face up against the window. Bad move. Taxi cab lady driver turned, and shrieked. Thankfully, the car muffled the sound greatly. I jumped out of the way as she swung her car door open.

           "I am so sorry, miss, but my step-sister may be about to do drugs for the first time, may I borrow your telephone?" I said breathlessly.

           She looked at me dubiously, then glanced over her shoulder at the alleyway. She took out her cell phone and said, "I get you, kid. You seem real. But I'll be doing the the calling."

           "Oh, but please, ask them not to punish her. She hasn't even done anything yet!" I said.

           She shushed me with her hand and started talking into the phone. "Yes? Hello. Yeah, you might want to come quickly-near the movie theater, on the first corner. Yes. Yes. Uh-huh. In the alleyway, there's a kid who might be about to do drugs. What? No. Pardon me? It would be her first offence, but she hasn't done anything yet. Yes. Thank you, sir."
           For a moment, I thought she was just humouring me, but moments later the sound of a police siren wailed through the air. I thanked her then scuttled back towards my cab to watch. 

           The policeman picked her out very quickly, grabbing her roughly and dragging her away from the alley. The dealer had split, apparently, but the policeman spoke into his radio, probably to a fellow cop tracking down the dealer. The policeman looked miffed, but not furious.

            He tossed Anastasia into the car, and though the windows were tinted, I could see relief spread through her face. He put her in the front of the car, like a passenger. I smirked, content with the results. There would be no trouble. But then I looked around. A woman nearby read her book. Stardust rode by on her bike. Great. Witnesses. Just what I needed.

           Another girl rode by on her bike. Well, at least Anastasia didn't look so guilty, sitting in front of the bars. Those bars. Imagine driving a car that you needed bars to protect you from a criminal. It's a mini jail.
           I shivered.
           Once they drove safely out of sight, I whispered to my cab driver to go back to our house. He glanced at me and then chuckled. "You're a good kid," he said. "Not to many of them nowadays."
           He was balding, maybe in his thirties. It was hard to tell. "Thank you." He looked like a dad. I was about to ask if he was one, but changed my mind. That was too personal. Were there any dad taxi drivers?

           I returned home to find Becky puzzling on my homework. Drizella was doing her own homework, and a bowl of old food lay between them, flies buzzing around it. Drizella glared at Becky, but said nothing, her lips tightening a notch every time Becky spoke up. "Man, these dishes are really nasty, Cind. I would clean them up but your sink is broken."
           Wait, what?
           I had changed into my pajamas, feeling a little ill. I didn't get sick very often even though I didn't eat too much. I had a strong immune system. I walked slovenly to the sink, tripping over the hem of my nightie a little. It was indeed broken, spurting water everywhere. What a damn surprise.

            I didn't have the energy to fix the sink, and decided to use a few choice swear words. No one cared anyway. I ran into the bathroom to collect my repair kit, only to discover the left sink was broken as well. I cursed, clenching my fist and growling. This damned idiotic house. I returned to the kitchen with a mop in hand so at least the water wouldn't sink through the wood. "Cindy, I think I'm going to be sick," Becky said. She bolted from the chair, belched into her hand and charged to the garbage. Aw. Maybe she caught what I had. Or I caught what she had. Or the dirty bowl infected us both. 
            "I think she you go home, Becky," I said sadly. "Do you want me to call a cab?"
            She nodded solemnly. "Thanks, Cind. Do you have a bag I could carry?"
            My heart breaking, I handed her a garbage bag. "Get well soon. Call me, okay? We can meet up again later." She nodded again. Then I noticed that the man who had driven me home was still in his cab, sleeping. "Oh, crap," I said, groaning. "Becky, you can go home with that guy... Here's five bucks. I hope that covers my fare. I'm sorry." I was such an idiot.

            I sighed and continued to mop. I was vulnerable when I didn't have my friends with me. Step-mother walked through the front door, furious. "ANASTASIA!" she screamed, and I opened my mouth to say, "Yes, step-mother." 

            Anastasia appeared. "Yes, mother?" 

            "You know who I just spoke with?" she didn't wait for a response. "THE CHIEF POLICEMAN. DO YOU KNOW WHAT HE TOLD ME?"

            Anastasia quivered. I didn't blame her. Dread filled my body. "N-n-n-oo-"

            "HE TOLD ME YOU WERE ABOUT TO DO DRUGS LIKE A FILTHY COMMONER! AND YOU KNOW WHAT I SAID?"

            Anastasia's eyes were filling with tears. She shook her head violently. 

            "I SAID, YOU MUST BE MISTAKEN. NEITHER OF MY DAUGHTERS WOULD EVER DO THAT. AND HE SAID, HE SAID," she shook angrily. "HE SAID THAT MAYBE I WASN'T AWARE OF MY DAUGHTER'S ILL DEEDS. IT CAN HAPPEN TO THE BEST OF US. AND THEN YOU KNOW WHAT HE SHOWED ME?"

            Anastasia's tears flowed freely. "No! No!" she sobbed.

            "HE SHOWED ME THE DRUG DEALER, WHO ADMITTED TO TRYING TO SELL DRUGS TO A RED-HEADED TEENAGER. THEN HE SHOWED ME YOUR BRACELET. AND I SAID, MAYBE IT WAS SOMEONE ELSE'S BRACELET!"

            "It was, it was!" Anastasia cried, her face buried in her hands.

            "BUT HE SHOWED ME SOMETHING ENGRAVED IN IT," Step-mother shouted over Anastasia's weeping. "HE SHOWED ME SOMETHING ENGRAVED IN IT THAT SAID 'TO MY DEAR DAUGHTER, ANASTASIA.'"

            There was a moment of silence as Anastasia shook with tears and as step-mother shook with rage. She took Anastasia by the shoulders and shook her. I had never seen her do that before, to either of her daughters. "NEVER AGAIN, ANASTASIA. NEVER AGAIN." And then she grabbed the sobbing Anastasia roughly by the shoulder and pushed her into her room.

            Step-mother wasn't finished yet, though. She turned to me, catching me as I snuck away. "Where do you think you're going," she said coldly. Apparently she had enough yelling.

            I turned defiantly to her. "I didn't do anything wrong," I said boldly.

            "You didn't do anything at all. Your job is stop my daughter's from getting into mischief."

            "I thought that was a mother's job. But does that mean I don't need to clean anymore?" I retorted dangerously.

            "How dare you. It is your fault that we have the lack of money that we do. I have to work till I'm nothing but skin and bones to pay for this family, to pay for food for you, to pay for the roof over your head. And this is the thanks I get? You have chores. If you don't like it, get out. You have no where to go. You have no money," step-mother announced, daggers shooting from her eyes. 

            "I did do something, anyway. I tipped the police off that your lovely daughter was going to do the drugs," I hissed.

            "So it's your fault that she now has a police record!" Step-mother shot.

            "What was I supposed to do!" I said, lifting my arms to the heavens.

            "You were supposed to do the right thing," step-mother said unhelpfully. 

            I rolled my eyes and walked away. I had no time for this. I burst into Anastasia's room. "Doing drugs, eh? Really classy, Anastasia. Top notch. You'll find men that way! What the hell do you think you were doing!"

            She was sitting on her bed, sniffling. "Oh, shut up. It'll never happen again, anyway. I've learned my lesson. But step-mother is still mad at me."           

            "That's your problem," I said, annoyed. I walked into the bathroom, getting sprayed by the broken sink, so I ran for cover in the next room. Dammit, the toilet was a mess. Wait a second... Light-bulb! "Anastasia! I have an idea how to make step-mother not mad at you!" I sang.

            Twenty minutes later, the toilet was fixed. Anastasia stood sopping wet and proud. "She'll forgive me now?" she asked naively.

            "Ooh, no, not at all. You'll have to clean the toilet, too, sweetheart," I said cruelly. What's that saying again? Right. What goes around comes around. Anastasia drooped a little, but grabbed a toilet brush and a giant tub of toilet soap and began scrubbing. "You'll know when you're done when you feel comfortable licking the toilet seat!" I said. Hmm. Knowing Anastasia, she'd feel comfortable licking the toilet seat at its current state. I shrugged and relaxed on Anastasia's bed, reading the paper, feeling like a rich man smoking a cigar. 

            Ten more minutes later, Anastasia was all done. She hadn't done a half bad job. I smiled and called step-mother. "Step-mother, look what Anastasia's done! All by herself!"

            Step-mother looked dubious, but then noticed all of the soap stains surrounding the toilet and the water dripping from Anastasia's dress. "Very well, then. Good job."

            "Am I... forgiven?" Anastasia asked tentatively. 

            Step-mother nodded before marching away. Anastasia perked up. I patted her back. "Well done. You should be the regular toilet scrubber now." 

            She ignored me.

            As usual, I fed step-mother dinner (french fries this time) before retiring. This time I begged step-mother to let me use her bed. I said, "Step-mother, I really need a bed. If you sleep on the couch you'll see how uncomfortable it is." To my intense surprise, she agreed. Also, it didn't hurt that I said I was sick and if I didn't get better I could be unable to cook or clean. 

            I slept through the night but was awoken at about five thirty by Anastasia. "I can't take a bath," she complained. "It's broken." Just like everything in the house. I had not repaired the sinks and the floorboards would probably rot.

            There was a flood of water surrounding the kitchen sink, proving that the house was on a slant. It seemed that the rest of the house was up, because step-mother was yelling at Drizella. "And don't forget it!" step-mother said.

            Weird.

            "Now what am I supposed to do!" Drizella said frantically.

            "If you repaired the tub, that could surely get you on step-mother's good side," I said casually. 

            "You're right!" Drizella said, grabbing a wrench and running into the bathroom.

            Holy cow. Déja vu. This was not happening. I expected someone to pop out and say "April Fools!"  Since when could Anastasia clean and repair a toilet? Since when could Drizella repair a bathtub? Since when did step-mother get mad at her daughters? This felt so different. It felt like change... It felt... like growing up.

             I walked out to find step-mother waiting with her hands on her hips. "Here's the scoop," she announced. "I'm going to fix the kitchen sink-you fix the bathroom sink. I already know that Drizella is fixing the bathtub."
            I was speechless, and carefully tread around my words, "Where's Anastasia?"
            Step-mother smirked and turned to the kitchen sink, "You can fetch her cereal."
            I did. Then I returned to the bathroom sink and searched for a wrench, but they were all being used, so I took out my own special wrench.

It was weird. But kind of nice. We were like a unit.

We were like a family.