Sorry for the LONG wait, guys. It's all the homework and other stuff that stands in my way. But I love the great reviews you guys send. Very encouraging. So here's the next chapter, with a bit of a Cinderella-ring to it, with a modern twist.
Reply to Comments:
Rihanna: Wow, girlfriend! Thanks so much! And thank you ALSO, for commenting on Midnight. It's totes fine—and thanks for advertising the Crystal Thief on Midnight! :P
Enough blabbering out of me; let the story begin!
I can't believe he left me. I have no idea what to do. Where to go. Not to Stepmother's. Not dressed like this. I want to cry, but I'm stronger than that. But what do I know.
-Cindy
"Peter? Peter!" Cindy Tremaine had stormed around calling for Peter for the last ten minutes, given weird blank stares by partying high schoolers.
Cindy finally gave up and collapsed by the stairs. Day's over. It was fun to talk to people, meet new guys, and dance to actual music, not chirping birds outside her window.
Sometimes, when she heard the birds, Cindy just wanted to grab one in her fist, shake it hard, and scream, "Life isn't happy! So stop your damn chirping and leave! Migrate south or something!" Cindy sucked in air. She was defenitely messed up inside. Scarred by her stepmother. Internally bleeding.
"Hey, Cindy." A girl she had met that day sat next to her.
"Hi." Cindy squinted at the girl. Belle Barclay was one of those girls that was gorgeous, but didn't seem to care. She had a heart shaped face, with pink cheeks and high cheekbones. Eyes the light creamy color of chocolate milk. Long dark lashes like ferns framing a murky pond. Her lips were full and kissable and a pale rose. She wore her hair pulled back in a soft ponytail, an oversized t-shirt and denim shorts.
Cindy realized Belle Barclay was the kind of girl that made a good friend. "What are you doing, Belle?"
Belle shrugged. "I brought 'To Kill A Mockingbird.' It's lovely. Have you read it?"
Cindy smiled. "Can't say I have."
Belle shrugged. "It's lovely."
"Bookworm Belle!" A sexy girl with short black hair and ruby red lips smiled cruelly by the door with another girl with long blonde hair that appeared to be asleep.
Belle kept reading, not seeming to care.
"Belle, do you have a car?" Cindy asked, desperate.
Belle looked up. "Yes. Why?"
"May I have a ride? I have to go to my stepmother's house tonight."
Belle smiled. "Of course. I can give you a ride. When would you like to go?"
Cindy bit her lip. "Is now a good time?"
Belle nodded. "Of course. Whenever you like, Cindy."
"Bookworm Belle, are you driving your new friend home? Why, to read her a bedtime story?" demanded the black haired girl, hysterically laughing. She elbowed the second girl, making her snort and wake up.
"Stay awake, Rose," hissed the black haired girl.
Rose rolled her eyes and let them flutter shut again.
"That poor girl—Rose—has narcolepsy," Belle informed Cindy. "Snow White over there won't give her a rest."
Snow White? What kind of name was that?
"She's thinks she's all that. She has Spanish heritage, I heard, and her father takes her shopping in Brazil every weekend. Her real name is Bianca Noir, but everyone just calls her Snow White."
Snow stepped forward threatening. "I don't think you can crack out information like that to people, you loser," she warned. "I can make your life a living hell."
"Excuse me, Snow," said Belle calmly. "You already are."
Cindy tilted her head.
Snow's eyes widened. "You! You, right next to the Bookworm! What's your name?"
Cindy pointed to herself. "Me?"
Snow smiled. "Totes. What's your name, hon?"
Cindy didn't move, just gnawed on her lower lip. "Cindy."
"You're sooo pretty, Cindy!" Snow smiled at her, widely. "And I love that dress on you! Where did you get it?"
"It was a gift from my friend."
Snow put her hands on her hips. "Mysterious, aren't we? Anyway, you want a ride? Ride with me. I have a snazzy car. It's totally hot. Would you like a ride?"
Cindy stepped back. "Belle already offered."
Snow narrowed her eyes. "It sounded, Cindy, like you were sort of begging her. Besides, Belle's car isn't really all that anyway. Just a clunky Toyota. Yuck, right? Come with me."
Cindy looked at Belle's open, honest, pretty face, and at Snow's mean-girl glammed-up face, and made a decision.
"I'm going with Belle."
Snow narrowed her eyes for one second again, then returned to nice-girl mode. "That's fine. I was just offering. Hope we can meet again, Cindy?"
Cindy nodded. "Yeah."
"I'll start the car," offered Belle, and exited the party quickly.
"Heyhey!" came a voice, and Adella Triton sidled up to Snow. "Hi, how are you, darling? It's been a while!"
"It certainly has." Snow patted her hair, smiling because one of the Triton girls was speaking to her.
Cindy rumaged through bags to find her purse. Oh! She inwardly gasped. My sweater. It's on a chair in the dining room. Cindy whirled to go get it. Grabbing the shabby gray thing and hiding it under her silky pashmina, Cindy began weaving forward towards the door. She grabbed her purse and stepped onto the porch—
And tripped.
She screamed and fell forward, her cute minidress and made-up face heading straight for the damp grassy ground. Her entire life soaring for public humiliation—
Someone's hands caught her around the middle and yanked her up. "Ohmygod!" Cindy breathed, staring up at a handsome stranger.
"Whoa!" he exhaled sharply. "That was some fall! Not used to high heels?" He let her go, steadying her.
"No," Cindy admitted, trying to straighten her feet back into them while clutching her purse and sweater.
"Cool outfit," said the guy. He was wearing a soccer jersey and cleats.
Cindy looked down at her fancy minidress and expensive heels. "Thanks." If only he knew who she really was.
"Rich girl?" the guy grinned. "It sure looks it."
Cindy didn't reply, and decided to go the safest route. "Yeah. That's me. Totally rich."
The guy ran a hand through his dark hair. "Yeah? Where d'ya live?"
Cindy stepped next to him and pointed northward. "South Amesbury. That road with all the big Victorian mansions."
"Cool," he said, nodding his appreciation. Cindy realized she was blushing, and that he was really hot, and in tip-top-boy-shape from playing soccer.
"I'm Char," he said, holding out his hand to shake hers. Cindy outstretched hers. Her fingers tingled as it touched his. "I'm—" She trailed off.
Char smiled at her, not seeming to care that she had avoided saying her name. "Glad we could meet. Hey, maybe we could meet up later sometime? At a café or something? Watch a movie?"
Cindy swallowed. "Uh, yeah! We can!"
"Uh—here." Char stretched out his phone. "Put yours in."
Cindy hesitated. "My—uh, my what?"
Char chuckled like she had said a funny joke. "Your number."
Cindy twisted a lock of hair. "My number? You want my—oh. Right. Well, I—"
Stepmother usually kept it locked away in a drawer—her phone, that is. But tonight, she had begged and begged and begged Anastasia, who had promised to keep the secret and give Cindy her phone—if Cindy gave her extra desserts every day for a month.
"What?" Char looked confused.
Cindy scratched her hair. "My phone. It has a problem right now and, uh…frankly, I haven't actually repaired it—"
Char frowned. "Okay. Well. Still put your number in, please. If that's okay with you. I won't call until you notify me that your phone is all good."
"How do I notify you?"
Char raised his eyebrows. "By calling me?"
Cindy nodded, facepalming. "Oh! Right. Sorry."
Char grinned.
Suddenly her purse vibrated. Cindy reached in and pulled out her cell phone.
"It seems okay to me!" Char said, looking frustrated now.
Cindy smiled weakly. "It's working now? Yay!" She looked at her screen. It was a text. From…
Peter.
"That ass," Cindy growled. "He left me!"
"Who?" demanded Char, completely clueless.
"My friend," Cindy said. "He was supposed to take me home."
Char grinned again. "I can take you home."
Cindy shook her head rapidly. "No, my other friend Belle already has the car ready. I actually have to be going."
Cindy logged in to read her text message:
You have 1 new message:
Peter: i need 2 tell u something its urgent pls come home pls pls pls!
Im super sorry I left u I didn't mean 2 honest but I had 2. Come home and I will tell u everything. I promise!
Cindy took a deep breath. "I think there's an emergency, Char. At home. So…I'll see you?"
Char nodded. "Put in your number first."
Cindy nodded too. "Sure, sure." She quickly entered in her cell phone number. She looked up at Char's face. "Remember, no calling unless I call first. Okay?"
Char raised his palms. "Absolutely. I swear."
Belle's silver Toyota rolled up to the curb, and Cindy gave Char's phone back and stuffed hers into her purse, not even bothering to zip it.
She broke into a run where you're panting and sweating and praying not to fall over.
She slid into the passenger seat of Belle's car. She spotted Char waving something. He was waving and yelling really really loudly. But Cindy couldn't hear
She rolled down her window. "Char, I can't stop! I'm sorry, I have to go!"
"Yur' 'one!" he was yelling over and over again. "Yur' 'one!"
"Hope we can meet again," was all Cindy could say as Belle's Toyota rolled down the street, heading towards home.
I tried to stop her.
-Char
Cindy.
Char reached down to see what the girl had dropped. He felt the smooth surface of her iPhone. He sucked in air. Oh, crap.
"Your phone!" he yelled, running after her friend's car. "Your phone!"
She yelled something, he didn't hear.
He looked down. It was unlocked and sitting on her text messages. Char just shook his head. What to do...what to do. He didn't even know her name, and here was her phone.
He was just too unlucky.
But as he looked down, he realized…maybe he could find out who she was. Find her. Return her phone.
And get a kiss as a reward?
Smiling to himself, Char tucked the phone into his pocket, and returned to the party.
I never dreamed there would actually be an emergency.
-Wendy
Wendy finished dancing with Jim and pulled away.
"Excuse me," she said to him, eyes cornflower blue and wide. "I have to look for someone."
Jim nodded. "Sure. I'll see you later then."
Wendy weaved through the party, spotted Ariel and touched her arm. Ariel jumped. "Wen!"
Wendy smiled. "Have you seen Peter?"
Ariel frowned. "I haven't, actually. Is he at the party?"
"I saw him…" Wendy trailed off and began moving through the swarms of people. Wendy spotted her purse over on an overstuffed bench by the door. She grabbed it to check for any messages from John.
There were 17.
With a gasp of surprise, Wendy surfed through them. They all carried the same messages.
Dad's home.
Dad's wild.
Help.
Wendy, come home.
Wendy, we need you.
Help.
Wendy, threw her phone back into her purse, zipped it shut and began to hunt for her coat. Blindly pawing through mounds of fabric, she couldn't even register what she was doing.
Little Michael was only four. Couldn't shield himself from their drunk, angry, wild father. And didn't know when to stop talking.
John, who corrected their father, could make him angrier. He also didn't have the gall to protect Michael from Mr. Darling. Wendy knew she had to get home. She was their only protection.
Dani.
Something clicked with Wendy; Dani Spark was her ride home. She didn't have a prayer without Dani; Beddington Lane, where her house was situated was much too far away to walk.
And as Wendy peered out through one of the long glass windows, she realized it was raining heavily. Her dress would be ruined, and with heels, the task would be impossible.
Wendy tore through the party, asking people about Dani Spark and where she was.
She spotted Jasmine Nazari lounging on the couch with a bottle of booze in hand.
"Jasmine," Wendy said, warily approaching her. Jasmine was a snarky junior girl with a serious attitude. They said she was a sexpot, though not as much as the Triton Girls. But a close second.
Was that…lingerie she was wearing?
Ignoring that, Wendy knelt next to her. "Jasmine, have you seen Dani Spark?"
Jasmine pushed a heap of black hair out of her almond shaped dark eyes, made smoky with eyeliner and mascara. "The girl with the iPod?"
Wendy flinched. There were tons of girls with iPods here. That didn't help. "She has blonde hair. Gray eyes. She was wearing a glittery dress…and hanging with Ariel Triton earlier today."
Jasmine nodded. "I've been drunk all night, but I swear I saw her hanging with Tarzan Mangals, the DJ."
"Thanks," Wendy left Jasmine and ran to the DJ. Tarzan Mangals was tan and muscly, wearing a tight shirt and red shorts, his hair in soft chocolate-colored dreadlocks. His eyes a piercing emerald green that just stole your soul.
"Hi," Wendy said timidly. Time was running out.
Tarzan tilted his head. "Song suggestion?"
"Was there a girl hanging out here with you earlier? With blonde hair? She suggested that Celine Dion song."
Tarzan's eyes widened. "Ohhh, Dani? Yeah, she's talking to those senior peeps over there."
"Bye!" Wendy was already running towards her friend. "Daaaaaaaani!"
Dani turned around. Wendy crashed into her, almost bowling her over. "Danidanidanilistentomeineedaridehomebecausejohnandmichaelareintroubleandihavetohelpthemsowillyoupleasegivemearide?"
Dani raised her eyebrows. "Huh?"
Wendy repeated herself, near tears.
Dani shook her head. "Wen—Wen, please slow down. I can't understand a word you're saying."
Wendy began to cry. "Listen to me! I need a ride home because John and Michael are in trouble and I have to help them so will you please GIVE ME A RIDE?"
Dani grabbed Wendy's arms. "I'll go get my keys. Be right back."
Wendy ran to the door to try and find her coat. She suddenly felt a heavy hand on her shoulder.
"Well, well, well! If it isn't Little Miss I'll Kick You Where The Sun Doesn't Shine."
Wendy whirled around to face Gaston. "I'm not in the mood, Gaston!" she screamed. "I'm going home anyway!"
"Party sucked?" Gaston taunted, leaning close to her. She could smell wine on his breath. As usual, a crowd of onlookers had gathered.
Wendy pulled her purse and coat close. Her purse contained her cash, her phone, her makeup, and heavy metal waterbottle. Wendy tried to close her eyes and block Gaston out.
"Come on, Darling," mocked Gaston. "Show me what you're made of. Do something. Try and stop me. Darling! Darling, do something!"
Where the hell was Dani? She had gone about a million hours ago!
Gaston placed his hands on her chest. "Say you love me, Darling."
That was too much. Wendy grabbed her purse by the handle and whacked it into the side of his head, heavy waterbottle and all.
Gaston slumped to the ground.
Wendy tore out of the Triton's mansion, racing across the wet sodden ground, getting her curls wet. She didn't care anymore. It was her brothers' fate that matters.
She had been running for quite a while when headlights splashed onto the back of her dress. Wendy turned around, gasping as muddy water sprayed her—and the car stopped right in front.
The door opened, and fingers wrapped around her wrist, yanking her into the car.
"No!" Wendy howled. "Let go of me! Let me go!" She continued her screaming as he was pulled into the car. She tumbled into the passenger side of the front seat and a hand covered her mouth.
"Shhhh, Wendy."
Wendy didn't bother to look at her assailant, kept kicking and scratching and slapping.
"Ow!"
Wendy recognized the sign as pain. Good. She could get away.
"Wendy—come on—"
Wendy lashed out again and smacked the person's shoulder this time. Hard.
Suddenly, her captor caught her wrists and held them down hard. "Wendy. Stop."
Wendy finally looked up, and realized who it was.
"Jim," she said out loud.
"It's just me," he said, letting go of her, rubbing his wounded eye. "Geez."
"Sorry!" Wendy gasped. "I didn't know—maybe you could give me a little heads up next time, before kidnapping me."
Jim shook his head. "I was going home, and I saw you walking. I thought maybe I could give you a ride. That's what friends do, right?"
Wendy sat back. "Beddington Lane. Can you drive fast, please?"
_
The lights were on in John's room.
Wendy raced inside, and stopped at the porch. "Thanks for driving me, Jim!" she called.
"I'm coming in," he declared, and started to follow her. "You could need help."
"I don't need you to save me," Wendy panted, throwing her coat on the ground and streaking up the stairs.
"You don't need it, but I'm giving it anyway," Jim snapped, right behind her, pissed off.
Wendy threw open the door to John's room. Michael and John were cowering behind the bed, and their father was smashing things.
"M-my homework," whimpered John. "He tore it. And it's due…tomorrow."
Wendy let out a huff of exasperation. "Daddy. Daddy, get out of his room."
"Where are you, Wen-day? I can't see you."
"Right here." Wendy got up in his face. "Can you see me now?" she screamed into his ear.
Jim appeared inside.
"Who's he?" John demanded.
"Is that your boyfriend?" Michael asked timidly.
"Who the hell are you?" yelled Mr. Darling. "Some kind of pirate-wannabe? Get the hell out of my house!"
"Why don't you stop harrassing your kids first?" Jim yelled back.
Mr. Darling lunged forward. "Why, you son of a b—"
"Daddy, stop!" Desperately, Wendy yanked her father away from Jim. Mr. Darling whirled around and smacked Wendy across the face, causing her to tumble to the ground.
"Wendy!" Jim ran forward, plowing into Mr. Darling and knocking him down.
Mr. Darling pushed Jim off. "By Thunder, I'll fix you…" he whispered softly, dramatically.
"Daddy, please don't hurt him—" Wendy screamed.
Mr. Darling raised one of Michael's splintery wooden chairs and slammed it down on Jim's head.
Wendy covered her mouth with one hand. With that one moment, Wendy shoved her father against the wall. Hard.
Mr. Darling slumped to the carpeted flooring.
"Jimjimjimjim!" Wendy knelt down on the ground. "Oh God. Jim, please, say something!"
Jim shook his head. "I'm fine. I just have a scrape."
"A scrape—Jim, you're bleeding!" Wendy cried. "This is all my fault."
Jim chuckled. "Why do girls always say that? Is it flirting or something? It's stupid. Wendy, help me up."
Wendy did so. Jim grabbed Mr. Darling's arm. "Take his other arm," he instructed Wendy.
The two of them hauled him to his room and Wendy got the master keys, locking him in.
"You gonna be okay here?" Jim asked, walking down the stairs. Wendy followed him.
No. I'm scared. But she nodded. "I'm fine."
Jim smiled. "Okay."
"Wait!" Wendy grabbed his hand. "There's antibiotics, bandaids, and creams in the bathroom. Fix up your cut first."
Jim obliged, disappearing into her bathroom for a while before emerging with a fresh BandAid over his cut. "It has Spongebob," he said, and laughed.
"They're Michael's," Wendy replied, and laughed, too.
Jim finally headed for the door. "I have to be going."
Wendy nodded. "I'm sorry again about my dad. He's a monster when he's drunk."
When Jim spoke next his voice was really soft. "Mine was too."
Wendy leaned forward. "Where's yours?"
Jim didn't say a word. He turned and began walking towards his car. Just before he got in, he whispered one single word.
"Gone."
A tear slid down Wendy's cheek. She couldn't imagine it. "When?"
Jim got in his car, but kept the window open. "When I was eight."
Wendy looked down. "I'm s—"
"I sure as hell don't need you feeling sorry for me," said Jim with a light cheerful tone that Wendy knew he was faking. "Because it's no big deal."
Wendy looked into Jim's eyes. They carried secrets and sorrows and starlight. "Are you sure?"
Jim nodded. "After all, I'm doing just fine."
His car disappeared down the streets.
A tear ran down Wendy's cheeks. "Everyone needs a father, Jim," she whispered. "Even you."