Sinful Cinderella

“CinderelLAH!”

“WHAT?” I shout and my eyes jump nervously to the cupboard. I hope I didn’t lose magic over that.

Loony’s voice bounds up the attic stairs and bashes into the walls. “Mother wants you right now. So hurry up!” She makes it sound like I’m in trouble.

I heave the half-finished gown onto my bed. Right now I’m in ruffle purgatory. Maybe the dress will be finished by nightfall. But today was supposed to be for Moody’s dress. I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.

Before running downstairs, I check to make sure my rats have water in their bowl. They live in the attic with me, two handsome white rats I call Toil and Trouble. They were once gray. But when I first received the white magic, I wanted to test it before using it on myself. So I fed it to my rats and their coats turned white and silky. What’s more, they gained intelligence and seem to understand when I speak to them. I told them never to leave the attic or my stepsisters will kill them. They listened.

They’re the only friends I have.

Stepmother is in her bedroom. Though fully dressed in a stiff burgundy gown, she’s lying on the canopied bed, her brow crouching over closed eyes. She slits them open when I enter.

“Are the dresses done?” she asks.

Is she demented? It’s been one day!

“Not yet, Stepmother,” I say gently. “But I’m working hard.”

Stepmother sighs and shuts her eyes again. Yes I know, I’m so inadequate.

“My head....” She groans. “I need you to run to the pharmacist for a powder.”

“Can Melodie do it? It’s a long walk and I need every minute to finish those dresses.”

Stepmother merely looks at me. She can say so much with just her eyes. No, Cinderella. Such an errand is beneath my precious daughter. And I take such pleasure in tormenting you.

“Never mind. I’m sorry.” I leave the room.

But I have to admit, the long walk is refreshing after hours of sitting in the shady attic. A church bell tolls three o’clock. Sparrows land on the street to pick at crumbs. Carriages roll past me, wheels gobbling over the cobblestones. A nice-looking man smiles at me, someone I’ve never spoken to.

Phooey....

I hurry, ignoring the burn in my calves. I’ve got to get back to the dresses. When I return, Stepmother isn’t in her room. I listen but hear only Loony and Moody’s voices downstairs, gabbling about hairstyles. Well, I’m not scavenging the house for Stepmother. Let her find me herself if she wants her stupid powder.

As I open the door to the attic stairs, I catch the tail end of sound that ceased the moment I opened the door. But I heard it. Little bumps of wood, like a drawer being jiggled.

Or a locked cupboard door.

I fly up the stairs.