A/N: Hey, thanks for clicking on this! Hopefully you won't regret it! Without further ado, I welcome you to the first chapter of A Real Cinderella Story. Thanks!
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Chapter One – I CAN'T GO?!
The sun filtered through the screen of the large window, reflecting off the old oak table. It was almost a spotlight on the two bickering girls that I had the bad luck to be related to. Sighing quietly, as to not disturb them, I got a cloth wet with lukewarm water, and walked over to the table, rubbing it and grabbing another cloth to dry with.
"I can't even BELIEVE you!" the redhead who was standing closest to me screamed, her face almost as red as her hair, "I leave you alone for TWO minutes, and you eat ALL the cookies!" I sighed, rolling my eyes as I set the wet cloth that I held down on the granite counter, rubbing gentle circles.
"No, I didn't eat the bloody cookies, thank you VERY much!" the other redhead screamed back, "Maybe it was my dog!"
"At least my dog knows that she can't eat all of the cookies! Whore! Pig! Slutty skank, you are! And your little dog too!" The older one, with her red hair in a high and messy bun, flailed madly, and smacked her sister in the arm.
Ignoring my bickering step-siblings, I walked over to the oven, opening it and washing the inside out. It's my job, you see, to insure that I don't interrupt Elizabeth and Rosalie's constant fighting. Like a ghost, or someone in an invisibility cloak, I remain hidden in the shadows; letting the two of them, an angry and terrible set twins, get their way. Oh, how rude of me; I introduce you to two of the most terrible people before introducing you to me, and what a shame that is. I am Melody Bell, and this is my real-life Cinderella story.
Since I was a kid, my favourite Disney princess was always Belle, the strong silent type who loved books like me, but once I hit puberty and my mother died, I realized that I really had a lot in common with Cinderella. In recognition of this fact, I named the black terrier that my father gave me soon after my mom's death Cinders. However, my dad seemed to lose interest in me once he met Madeline. Sadly, Madeline also caused him to lose his life…
Speak of the devil, I was shoved to the side and my hand hit the hot pan at the bottom of the oven as my step-mother entered the kitchen, her almost glowing fire-red hair flying behind her. "Girls, girls, what seems to be the problem now?" she asked her two daughters. Biting my lip, I cradled my hand against my chest, wrapping the cloth around it and promising myself that I'd deal with it later
I headed for the door, with a broom and mop in hand. "Oh," she began, her voice taking a distinct tone of disgust, "It's the rat," at that, I got an Aladdin song racing through my head… "What's she doing in the kitchen?"
Rosalie giggled obnoxiously, "She's working Mom, like always."
"Oh," Madeline shook her head, "Ugh," and turned back to her children, "I hope that the two of you are ready for the concert tonight; I got you backstage passes just so that you can meet the band," she turned a snide face to me, seeing as I had paused with my hand on the edge of the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the living room, "And Melody will stay home. Hopefully she can get all of the chores done like the little rat that she is."
"I can hear you," I mumbled, flipping my fruity smelling hair at her as I took my leave through the door, "Though it hurts my brain to listen to ditz's talk to each other…" I knew that they could hear me; I was making certain that my voice rose as I walked across the room. I filled a bucket with hot water, and went to bend down. Before I knew what was happening, Elizabeth brushed by me and shoved my shoulder. Startled, I dropped the bucket of scalding hot water on the carpet, feeling my jaw drop at the realization that I had another half an hour of work added on to the already four hour long list I had.
"Ooh, oopsie daisy!" Elizabeth stated, giggling like her twin. I rolled my eyes, and rubbed the thin layer of sweat off my brow.
"For the LOVE of all that is good," I began, dropping the broom and mop before grabbing the various cloths that were on the table beside me. See, I must have known this would happen, because I was prepared to clean the mess. I threw the cloth on the water, and then began to soak it all up, and then saw the shadow that was Madeline cover my view.
Before I knew what was happening, I blurted out, "Can you MOVE?! Unlike you brats, I actually have a life and I would like to get all my chores done before I go to the concert with Britney." I regretted the action immediately and, feeling a sharp kick hit my lower back, I fell to the ground. Madeline leaned down, tugging very harshly on my chocolaty brown, shoulder length hair to insure that my ear was level with her voice.
"You aren't GOING to any concert, street rat," she hissed in my ear, dropping me back to the carpet. Getting to my feet shakily, I gave her a look of immense loathing before I ran up the stairs, racing past all of the fancy rooms in the house that Madeline had purchased with the money from my father's "mystery" death, and fell on my bed sobbing.
"Oh Mom," I whispered into my pillow, "Why? Why did you and Dad have to leave me?" I asked the sky, before I began to cry harder, the sobs shaking my petite frame. After a couple minutes, I somehow managed to stop crying and get to my feet.
Heading to the vanity in my feeble excuse of a room, I dropped heavily onto the chair. Looking back at me was a terrible face. I saw my face with cuts from Madeline's cat, bruises from the twins, and other unmentionables. After putting gauze on my burnt hand and wrapping it with a bandage to ensure that none of the gauze got on anything, I buried my face in my hands, and cried again. "I didn't think you had any tears left," came a soft, sing-songy voice from beside me. Turning, I saw that dirty blonde hair that could only have belonged to one person; my best friend, Britney Daniels.
"Oh, B," I croaked, wrapping my arms tightly around her torso. I felt more tears come and I found myself feeling guilty about soiling her shirt with my tears. "I'm sorry," I mumbled into her chest, ignoring her laughs as to where my head was. I felt safe, as I always did when I was around her.
Wrapping her arms tighter around my shaking body, she scooted me over and sat beside me before turning to me and asking, "Why are you sorry, hun? It's not your fault; everyone cries. Like, I remember this one time when my sister fell out the kitchen window. I was so scared and I felt so guilty about letting her fall that I cried and tried to run away. My mom though, you know how she is, I was dragged right back to the house." She laughed again, and I felt a smile tug my lips upward, as much as I tried to keep the smile away. Pushing me back a little, she pointed at the small smile, a matching one on her face, and said, "Ah, there we go. My biffle smiled! I knew I could get you to smile for me," and I laughed. "What are you sorry about, anyway? We still have the concert to get to. Be sorry AFTER the concert."
"I can't go to the concert," I announced, my voice wavering with pent-up emotions for my step-mother, "Madeline forbid me to go."
"And who does she think she is?" Brit asked, her arms still around me, "Your mother? Now, my mom said that you're coming with me no matter what. Even if I have to kidnap you and drag you out the damn window; you're coming."
"But Madeline said-" I began, wincing as she touched the bruise on my cheek.
Seeing my wince, Britney gave me a look and then got to her feet and yelled at me, "PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER WOMAN! YOU'RE NINETEEN; YOU TECHNICALLY DON'T HAVE TO LIVE HERE ANYMORE! WHY ARE YOU STILL LIVING HERE?" Brit touched my knee, and I sighed, getting to my feet, and pacing the small room the best I could.
"My parents had a lot of money that they left me; you know that, right?" I turned to face my blonde friend, who nodded and ignored the stray pieces of blonde hair that went in her deep brown eyes, "Well, Madeline told the judge at her hearing – where they tried to charge her with the murder of my dad – that I was too young to be in charge of the money. The judge agreed – seeing as I was only sixteen – and gave Madeline control of the money until I was twenty. I'm still nineteen, and the judge told me that I can only get the money if I live with Madeline until I turn twenty, which is still in two bloody weeks. Oh, Brit," I fell face first on my bed, and began to cry again, "I've had to deal with her beating on me for three years. Why is THIS what the judge chose?"
Gently rubbing my back to make sure that she didn't hurt me, Britney mumbled, "I don't know, hun, but you'll be fine. You'll be… Fine, I promise."
At the time, I certainly hoped that she was right.
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A/N: Hey guys. Before I get into the note, I'd like to thank NJKJo, who was really the one who got me to get my butt in gear. This one's for you buddy! And thanks!
This is my first story. I was going to get a different one out, but last night I had a big brain flash, and I wrote this. I like it a lot! Hopefully you do as well, and drop me a review if you think I should continue it. Thanks, and have a great day!
Lys.