Cinderella: Ninja Warrior (10 page)

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Authors: Maureen McGowan

Tags: #Fairy Tales & Folklore, #Juvenile Fiction, #Adaptations, #Interactive Adventures

BOOK: Cinderella: Ninja Warrior
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Section 3
 
HARD WORK REWARDED
 
3
 
C
inderella carefully set the two gowns onto the dress forms in her stepsisters’ shared dressing room that spanned the space between their grand bedrooms. She felt light, more alive and happy than she’d been in a very long time.
It had been smart to say no to the ball, even if it had been impossible at the time to tell if her answer had pleased her stepmother. Since then, she’d worked hard to complete every task and chore she’d been given, like always. But completing these gowns was different, and her stepmother was going to be both shocked and pleased. Although Cinderella knew it was wrong to expect a reward, she certainly deserved and hoped for something—maybe a few hours outside during daylight.
Hearing the clack of her stepmother’s and stepsisters’ high heels coming up the stairs and crossing the wooden floor, she stepped out to greet them. “I have a surprise,” she announced.
“Oh, goody.” Agatha clapped her hands, but then Gwendolyn bumped her sister with her hip and Agatha wiped the smile from her face and said, “Yeah, whatever.”
Cinderella couldn’t let her sisters spoil this moment, for her or for them. As soon as they saw the dresses, they’d squeal with glee, and her stepmother would marvel at her speed and skill. After buying dresses in town for the girls, her stepmother had handed Cinderella huge sacks of beads and sequins and feathers yesterday with an evil glint in her eyes and had insisted she sew every single embellishment onto her daughters’ dresses by tomorrow, the day before the ball. By staying up all night, Cinderella had finished a day early.
At first, Cinderella had cringed when she saw all the beads and feathers and sequins. Not so much because sewing on every single item would be tremendously hard work, but because she didn’t want to ruin her stepsisters’ ball gowns with all that sparkle. But she’d figured out a way to save the dresses.
“Well?” Her stepmother frowned and then snapped, “We don’t have all day, girl. What is your so-called surprise?”
Cinderella flung open the doors to the dressing room to reveal the gowns she’d spent all night embellishing. The light from the window across the hall and the skylights above caught the crystal beading and sent sparkles shooting everywhere. She lifted the fabric of one of the skirts to show how lightly she’d applied the tiny feathers to the hem and how ethereal they’d make Gwendolyn appear as she glided across the dance floor.
“Oh!” cried Agatha, who ran forward to touch the beading at the bodice of her dress. Her face was beaming, but then she turned and glanced at Gwendolyn for guidance.
Gwendolyn’s eyes narrowed as if she thought Cinderella was trying to play some kind of trick. Of what sort, Cinderella could not imagine.
Her stepmother walked into the dressing room and slowly circled the dresses, her face frozen and expressionless. She examined the dresses carefully, even checking inside, and grunted when she saw Cinderella’s even stitching and the lining she’d added under the intricate beading to protect the threads and ensure that not a single bead could get snagged.
Cinderella had never felt more confident in her own work and although she knew it was conceited to be so incredibly proud, she was. She’d worked all night and had the bandages on her pricked and sore fingers to show for it.
Still, in spite of her utter confidence that this was good work, her mouth dried and her smile grew heavy. Her stepmother hadn’t uttered a word, and the woman’s silence and scrutiny chilled the air.
Suddenly, her stepmother raised her head. Cinderella jumped and clasped her hands in front of her apron.
Her stepmother stepped forward, towering above Cinderella like a hammer over a nail, ready to strike. “Where is it?”
“What?” Cinderella backed up, fear flooding every crevice previously occupied by pride and joy, not to mention the hope that she might be offered a reward.
“The wand.” Her stepmother clenched her hands. “To do this so quickly, you must have used magic.”
“No, I didn’t.” She
wished
she had her mother’s wand or possessed the powers to have done this with magic. Then she’d have been able to catch a few moments of sleep last night.
“You expect me to believe that you completed all this in one night?” her stepmother asked, her voice hard and spiked. “Without magic?”
Cinderella nodded and swallowed hard.
“Let me see your hands.”
Cinderella offered her hands to her stepmother, who yanked them forward, hard, pulling Cinderella off balance. Her stepmother wound the bandages off her hands and then frowned and grunted when she saw the pricks and blisters from the needle and the redness on the sides of her fingers where the chafing fabric had rubbed Cinderella’s skin raw.
Her stepmother twisted Cinderella’s hands, flipping them over and over, studying them as if they weren’t even attached to her arms.
When she finally dropped them and stepped back, her expression had molded into a smile of sorts, but this new expression injected more terror into Cinderella than any scowl. Cinderella knew that smile. Long ago, she’d learned never to accept it at face value.
No longer expecting a reward, Cinderella wondered how her stepmother would punish her and what excuse she’d devise to make her punishment seem just.
“I’m impressed, Cinderella,” her stepmother said, stepping back and keeping the hard smile on her face.
Cinderella knew staring at her stepmother was beyond rude, but she had to wonder if she’d lost her touch at interpreting the woman’s expressions. There was no punishment yet.
“When I saw the completed dresses and how you’d used every single bead,” her stepmother continued, her voice even and calm, “I assumed you’d used a wand, or the services of a powerful wizard to finish this in a single night. But now I see you used only your hands and your patience to complete this difficult task.”
Cinderella waited for the “but.” When her stepmother doled out praise, there was always a “but,” and experience had taught her to expect a big one at a time like this.
Her stepmother turned to Agatha and Gwendolyn, who looked confused. “What do you think of your dresses, girls?”
Gwen looked to her mother for clues as to how she should respond, while Agatha’s attention vacillated between the dresses and Gwen.
“Fine work, wouldn’t you say?” her stepmother asked.
“Oh, yes!” Agatha ran her fingers over the beading again before stepping back to admire her dress. “I think they’re absolutely beautiful. The prince won’t be able to resist us.” She turned to Gwendolyn and grabbed her hands. “Don’t you think so, Sister?”
Gwendolyn lifted one of the feathered sleeves of her dress, and her lips twitched as if she were fighting to keep a smile down. “They’re all right, I suppose.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” her stepmother said.
Cinderella’s insides froze.
“You’ve created a big problem for your sisters, Cinderella.”
Her mind spun with the possible problems. “But the beading is lined,” she said, “and I made sure the feathers don’t fall too far down, so neither Gwen nor Agatha will trip while waltzing with the prince.” What problem could she have neglected to anticipate?
“Slippers. Handbags. Hair adornments.” Her stepmother shook her head as if she were talking to a child who couldn’t remember that seven came after six. “After what you’ve done, nothing the girls own will do, and with my other engagements today, I cannot make time to shop with them.” She pursed her lips together.
“You’re right, Mother.” Gwendolyn turned up her nose as if smelling sour milk.“My slippers are covered with brushed silver threads, but they won’t do with this gown. Under the feathered hem, they’ll look plain and everyone will laugh.”
Cinderella suppressed a cry of protest. She agreed that the slippers Gwendolyn had planned to wear would be inappropriate with the gown, but not for the same reason. A much simpler pair of slippers would be better—ones of a soft dove gray, or the palest of pale pinks.
“What will we do about this, girls?” her stepmother asked, crossing her arms over her bosom.
“Tear off the beading and feathers?” Gwendolyn suggested, which made Cinderella’s stomach feel as if it were about to expel the few bites of porridge that had been left for her to eat after the others had finished.
All her work torn apart? Even her stepmother would never be that cruel. Would she?
“Mother.” Agatha stepped forward. “Given we have only today to shop, perhaps Cinderella should accompany Gwen and me to the village to help us pick out new slippers.”
“That’s actually a good idea,” remarked Gwendolyn, running her hand over the beading on her dress. She turned to her mother with a forced smile on her face. Agatha beamed at the praise from her sister.
Cinderella took a deep breath and tried to keep her expression neutral. She was thrilled at the idea of going to the village, even though her sisters were motivated purely by self-interest. They would do everything they could to look their best at the ball, and although Gwen wouldn’t admit it, she and her sister relied completely on Cinderella for fashion advice.
Her stepmother’s eyebrows drew more closely together and Cinderella wished she could read the evil woman’s mind. She wanted to feel hopeful that her stepmother was at least considering her daughters’ suggestion, but Cinderella couldn’t fully let herself believe it.
“It
is
important that you stand out at the ball,” her stepmother said. She approached her daughters and cupped their cheeks, almost affectionately. “It’s imperative that one of you end up married to the prince. Imagine the power.” Her voice lowered and the silence crept over Cinderella like a cluster of spiders.
Her stepmother spun around and said, “Fine. Take Cinderella to the village if it will increase your chances of catching the prince’s eye. If Cinderella can’t find anything acceptable, she can certainly bead your shoes, bags, and combs as easily as she did these gowns.” She glared at Cinderella as she offered the challenge. “Can’t you?”
Excitement rushed through Cinderella at the thought of getting off the grounds for the first time in nine years. Her breath caught in her throat. Even if her reward for doing her work quickly was yet more work—pushing the ultrathin beading needle through leather would be a challenge—she was going to the village.
“And, Cinderella,” her stepmother said, rubbing her finger and thumb over her chin.
“Yes, Stepmother?” She fought to keep her voice even.
“Your hard work deserves a reward.” She turned to the others.“Don’t you agree, girls?”
Filled with anticipation, Cinderella could hardly stand still, but her stepmother’s voice was tinged with deceit, as if she were hiding something behind her back even though her hands remained in plain sight.
Cinderella’s heart raced. Her insides buzzed. Would her stepmother let her buy fabric to replace the rags she now wore?
The evil woman reached for the small black pouch she had dangling from her belt and pulled out a coin. “Cinderella, purchase something for yourself. A new broom would be useful, I think.”
Cinderella grinned. It wasn’t a great reward, but she did need a new broom, and her stepmother couldn’t crush the happy feelings floating through her. She hadn’t been to the village, or off the grounds at all, since she was nine years old. Unless this was some kind of trick, it was the best reward she could’ve hoped for.
She fought to hide her building excitement. Could she use this trip to the village to escape? Her stepmother would have to release the entrapment spells, and she could certainly outrun her stepsisters.
It would mean leaving without Max, and never returning to the home her real parents had shared, but she was ready. As soon as they were out of sight of the house, she’d ditch her stepsisters and escape.

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