I took my magic mop swiffer thing and traveled to the kitchen to clean up the water. Step-mother stood up and strolled over to me, brushing carpet fluff off of her skirt. "Cinderella..." she said warily. "I slept on the couch, and I know you've been asking me for years about getting a bed of your own, so I decided to get you one."
I smiled involuntarily. What luck! I would have more energy and I would have my own bed! I tried not to squeal with joy, but it was difficult. "Oh, thank you, step-mother, thank you!" I cried out happily.
Step-mother shrugged. "I'll just sell the ring your father gave me to pay for it," she snapped before walking away. Was she trying to guilt trip me? I had never wanted dad to marry step-mother, so why would I want her to keep the ring? This meant moving forwards. This meant a real separation from the dead. A lumped formed in my throat, so I swept up the water quickly before I could give it a second thought.
I finished up and stretched. I would take a nice long bath. Yes, that was the cure to everything. I headed to the bathroom sleepily, passing by Drizella. Shoot, what was she up to? "Hey Cindy," she cackled. Drizella had been acting quite moody lately. I thought that perhaps she was depressed or at least bi-polar, what with all of her mood swings and all. She was by the mailbox, writing a check out to someone, I tip-toed outside to make sure that it was a check, but cowered in the doorway when I saw step-mother coming up from behind the house. She rushed forwards to Drizella, her hands outstretched.
"Drizella! How many times have I told you? This is it! You are grounded, young lady!" step-mother hissed. For what?
"For what?" Drizella said numbly, echoing my thoughts.
"For writing checks of my money to organizations you don't even know about to help them with their drug addiction!"
"They need the money, mother! They can't help the fact that they can't get a job because they're all disabled!" Drizella shrieked defiantly.
"THEY CAN'T GET A JOB BECAUSE THEY'RE CRACK ADDICTS!" step-mother boomed, completely flipping out. She snatched the pen and check away from Drizella angrily, storming away. Drizella steamed before heading back inside. I retreated back inside as well.
I filled up the bath with soapy, warm water, stripping off my clothes while I waited. So that's where all of our money was. It was being sucked up by a spoiled brat named Drizella. I thought about how much kinder step-mother had been lately? Why? Slowly, it dawned on me. We were in debt, no doubt. According to all the bills spent of food, clothing, and other various items, we were in debt about ten thousand dollars. But what if my father had left a will? Surely he would have at least considered me before saying 'It all goes to my wife'. And what about mom? I'm sure that she would have made a will of her own, giving some items that belonged to her to me! But if father had left a will, step-mother wasn't allowed to touch any money that had been left for me. Neither was I until I was eighteen. Maybe, just maybe, she hoped that on my eighteenth birthday, in just a couple of years, I would take pity on her and give her money.
All kinds of thoughts spiraled through my brain now. What if my father had left me lots and lots of money? What if I was rich! Greedy thoughts spread down my spine like a virus as I soaked in the lukewarm tub. I could own a mansion! Oh, the joy! The joy! I eased back into the tub until the water started to feel a little chilly. I rinsed out my hair before pulling the plug and getting out, shivering. I dried myself off with a towel and pulled my normal rags on. With money, I could have normal clothing. Nice clothing. I looked down at the rags. If step-mother wanted to be so nice, why on earth would she leave me with these filthy things?
Spite chilled my blood, and I pressed a hand to my forehead. My step-mother was cruel, evil, and scheming. She always was and she always would be. I glanced around, then, snickering evilly, rigged the toilet up to backwash. Such fun. Just as I was putting finishing touches on it, step-mother opened the bathroom door. "What are you doing in here? You're taking such a long time..." she trailed off as I jumped away from the toilet guiltily. Step-mother narrowed her eyes suspiciously, closing the door behind her tilting her head menacingly. "Cinderella..." she chanted. Unfortunately, as I had not finished rigging the toilet, it chose that exact moment to spurt. I ducked out of the way just in time.
To my intense relief, the door flew open. It slammed up against step-mother, as she was standing behind the door, right into her nose. Drizella snuck into the bathroom, looking around. "DRIZELLA!" step-mother snarled, rubbing her crooked nose. "You clumsy buffoon!" step-mother shouted as Drizella jumped, startled. Step-mother tore out of the room, cursing.
"Cinderella, may I borrow you mop, please?" Drizella simpered politely.
I shrugged and tossed her the magic mop, waiting to see its magic first-handed. Drizella pushed the mop forwards and then backwards, but all she was doing was pushing water around. She heaved an aggravated sigh and then swept even faster, but the mop wasn't doing anything. "Uh, Drizella?" I said.
"What?" she snapped.
"I don't think it's working," I said gently.
"Shut up." she threw the mop at me and stormed into her room. I shrugged and started mopping. Strangely enough, its magic vacuuming powers had returned just for me. So did Drizella, in her nightie, and she glowered at me as she stepped over the water on her way out. When I finished up, I started to make some pancakes. We kind-of-not-at-all-actually-just-didn't have a clean bowl, so I used corn starch and water to make a kind of rigid edging.
I glanced at Drizella,who had seated herself on the ground and was now copying Anastasia's homework, legs folded to give everyone a lovely view of her underwear. Because the pans were so small, I was forced to cook each pancake one at a time. But that was all right because I was going to make them perfectly this time. No burning. I just had a feeling they would be perfect in the end. Just... just lovely.
Step-mother was exercise to something on television that had tons of buff people, old people, and especially attractive people working out. Step-mother was just stretching for now, but I could smell her B.O. from where I stood in the kitchen. She reeked. I noticed Drizella tip-toeing around her
The pancakes were finally finished and looked beautiful. They were brown on the inside and beigeish yellow on the outside. They were light and fluffy, too, with butter cooked inside of them. I had made a little bit of whipped cream and put a glob of it in the center of six pancakes, right next to a sprig of parsley. I turned away from my masterpiece to see step-mother and Drizella in the middle of a debate. Drizella just looked defiant.
"I have to pay for your food, pay for your clothes, pay for your home, and this is the thanks I get?" step-mother snarled.
"I've had enough, mother. I don't know why you're always on my back. I do my homework, I do a good job, and I don't get into trouble. I want to marry an ideal man whereas Anastasia," Drizella lowered her voice considerably, "Is just trying to sleep with every boy she meets! Like that boy, Talan!"
Step-mother blinked and glanced at me briefly. I kept my head down as I prepared a plate of pancakes for myself. "It doesn't explain why you're wasting my money, giving it to unknown causes!"
Drizella sighed, frustrated. "You wouldn't understand, and besides, I'll never do it again!" Which is code for 'I'll never let you catch me again'. "And besides," she continued, "You're inexplicably lazy! You need to get your butt off of the couch and do some freaking work! How else are we going to get out of this pit of debt!"
"FOR YOUR INFORMATION, YOUNG LADY, I WAS WORKING OUT UNTIL YOU INTERRUPTED ME WITH YOUR SPOILED SPEECH," step-mother roared, shaking with anger. Drizella turned her nose up at step-mother and left.
I ate my pancakes quietly. I had decided to make a second batch because I had had leftover pancake batter, but I needed to empty the plate of some of its pancakes in order to do that. Of course, I was fine with that. I had at least three or four pancakes piled onto my plate, butter oozing into them, red berries on the side. I took a forkful, savouring the taste. I had decided to put the rest in the fridge, to surprise step-mother with my pancakes when she was in a bad mood to make her feel better. I heard the fridge door open and closing and then the pattering of feet. I turned to see Drizella sneaking away with a plate of pancakes. I gobbled down my food and then, stomach nice and full, checked the fridge to make sure that Drizella had taken the first batch of pancakes, not the second that was made especially for step-mother. My heart dropped as I looked inside to find the first batch completely intact, the second mussed up. Damned slut head.
Sick of her attitude, I strolled up to Drizella. "How could you take the good pancakes! The ones that were placed far back, behind the milk containers and leftover containers! Why would you!"
Drizella held her hands up in pretend innocence. "How was I supposed to know that you had specially made pancakes!"
I huffed, annoyed. "And why were you telling step-mother about Talan! I told her that Talan was good, but now she's going to freak out at me for lying! In fact, I wasn't even lying! Talan is awesome! Talan actually is rich! What's so wrong about Talan!"
Drizella rolled her eyes. "C'mon, Cinderella, you dirty ho. Everyone knows you're madly in love with Talan, even him. Just because of this, you can't realize what an idiotic womanizer he is! Womanizer!"
The words rang in my ears. Mainly because it was true. "You disgust me," I said, shaking my head. "You're just a lonely girl who has nothing better to do than her homework."
"Look who's talking, buttface! You are such a loser!" Like Anastasia once did, Drizella held her hands up to form an 'L'. "Just face the facts! You flirt with every guy you meet-you're so open about your feelings to everyone! Guys only like you because you're a slut!"
"I thought girls didn't like sluts," I challenged.
"You're garbage! Filth!" Drizella shouted, arms flailing angrily in the air.
I responded by sticking my tongue out at her. "You're a loser! At least I have friends! Loser, loser, loser, loser, loser!" I shouted, repeating her hand motion. Déja vu. Drizella and her sister were so much alike.
"At least I'm not a dumpy cock sucker!" Drizella shouted, then demonstrated what she meant. I stepped back, appalled. What rude, vile, disturbing words!
"So there!" Drizella shouted, making a 'gangstah' gesture that I assumed she had picked up from Jared. Then it happened. One, fluid motion. Her cheek was hard and sweaty. It almost hurt my hand as it swiped her cheek furiously. Right across the face, full armed, too. The tiny, slightly painful prickling feeling felt good on my hand. It felt like revenge. Payback. It felt good, but at the same time, it didn't. I didn't feel any better, really. A little bit, yes, but emotionally I felt vapid and depressed. Maybe I was.
Drizella's cheek was bright red as she turned away, running out the front door. I was glad. I walked slowly to the bathroom, hoping step-mother would never find out about this little event. I lathered my hands, rubbing and rubbing the calluses, as if the harder I rubbed, the more I rubbed away the deed I had just done.
I changed into my night dress then walked into Anastasia and Drizella's room to check and see if Drizella was back. She wasn't. To my delight, my new bed was set up. It was a loft bed. I climbed up and sunk into the bed. It wasn't lumpy at all, and felt much nicer than Drizella or Anastasia or step-mother's beds. I was cozy. I was relaxed.
That's when I let the tears fall.
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