"Again."

She straightened from her keeled over position and spun, throwing a kick at the side of the hanging punching bag.

"Again."

She staggered, then performed the same move.

"Again."

"Katie...please..." she gasped. "I've...done this move...a thousand times today..."

"And it still stinks worse than a hog," her step-sister growled. "So you'll do it again as many times as I tell you."

"But-"

"Again."

She held four a moment longer, then snarled and threw another spin kick at the bag.

"That was terrible, Cinder. Did you want me to get Agatha to help you?"

She shivered; her arms still hurt from the last time her other step sister had "helped" her practice her fighting.

"You're pathetic, Cinderelly," Katie snarled, using the nickname Cinder hated most. "Watching you fight is like watching a dog try to fly. Sad."

Cinder scowled and put her hands on her knees. After three hours of what Katie called training she didn't care what the jerk said.

"Take your break you whimp," she said with a yawn. "I'm going to see if anyone worthwhile is home."

Cinder waited until she was gone, then balled up a fist and blasted the bag. It caved and then broke from the chain, flying across the dark room to smack against the far wall. She took several deep breaths to calm herself, then ran a hand through her layers of chocolate colored hair. It had grown out nicely, against all odds, reaching the middle of her back. She only wished she had tanned better so it didn't make her look so pale. She liked how it made her deep blue eyes glisten; it distracted people enough for them to ignore how sickly thin she looked. The fact that all she owned were athletic tank tops and tight work out pants didn't disguise all the weight she'd been forced to lose.

Cinder left the chalk drawn ring in the middle of the room and picked up her water bottle and towel, flinging the cloth around her neck and heading out to the lobby. Sometimes customers left fliers or posters on the bulletin board, and a lot of times she found peace when she read them and daydreamed about something better.

"Hi Shay," she greeted the accountant as she walked to the board.

"Hey there, Cinder," Shay replied without looking up from her computer. "What's on the old advertisement today?"

Cinder took a sip from her bottle and pointed a pink paper.

"Some chick lost her cat again," she told her. "So many pets get lost you wonder if they just don't like their owners."

"Seems probable," Shay agreed.

"Then there's this guy who wants volunteers to raid a government building. If only I gave a crap that he's doing it; I'd save the police a lot of trouble."

"If only."

Cinder paused, rereading one she almost passed. The picture above was badly drawn, but the description held her gaze.

"Theres, uh," she started, taking a quick swig to wet her throat. "There's this kid...about my age, who's looking for people to join his team."

"Another basketball team? As if New York doesn't have enough of them."

"He doesn't say what it's for. Just that...it says: 'You don't have to be anyone too special...although that helps anyone in the long run...just come willing to be a team player. 'Cause we're all outcasts here'..."

Shay took off her thin glasses and stared at Cinder. She'd never, ever seen any light touch the young girl's face before, it had always been very dull and uncaring. Now though, Shay dare thought she saw hope creep into her eyes.

"Where does it say you have to go?" she asked softly.

"Some place in China," Cinder answered; she must have just seen it, for her eyes lost the little light she'd gained. "...Stupid, huh?"

Shay sighed, then straightened as an idea formed in her head.

"You know, your step-father's going to China this afternoon," she started, gaining Cinder's eyes. "Something about a business deal for a gym."

"So?"

"Well...what if I...accidentally booked two tickets, and reserved one specifically for you?"

Cinder's eyes widened at her words.

"But...Shay...you could get fired..."

"Better than sitting here listening to your step-siblings rough you up everyday, Cindy."

Cinder's face softened. Shay had called her that since she was four, and it always brought warmth to her.

"The plane leaves at eight A.M. sharp, little miss," Shay said, clicking buttons before giving Cinder a big smile. "Best not be late."

Cinder could do nothing but hug her. Before she left to go pack she saw the tags at the bottom of the poster that had a phone number written on them. All ten were still there; without a twinge of hesitation she took the first tag and pulled it her way, ripping the other nine off with it.

No sense letting anyone else snag her chance at freedom.