Cinderella: Ninja Warrior (9 page)

Authors: Maureen McGowan

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

BOOK: Cinderella: Ninja Warrior

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Agatha and Gwendolyn were seated beside her, snickering on and off, as Cinderella studied the goblets and tried to devise a plan. Max had disappeared as soon as they’d come outside. Which was just as well; it wasn’t as though he could help.

She turned to her stepmother. “May I have more than one goblet on each level?” she asked. A pyramid-type structure might work. Perhaps the challenge was more of a puzzle than anything else.

“Don’t be stupid,” her stepmother snapped. “I said end on end.”

“May I use paste?” If she were granted access to the kitchen, she could make some paste using flour and water. It still wouldn’t help build a tower strong enough to climb once its top grew out of reach, but it was her best idea so far.

“I’m losing patience.” Her stepmother shot out of her chair. “Are you ready to admit defeat?”

“No.” She turned away. There had to be a way to do this.

She glanced across the garden and spotted Max near the edge of the woods. He’d been obsessed with that spot the past few nights. “Max,” she called to him, “be careful—the wolves.” If he ventured into the trees, the wolves would surely snap him up in a second.

Gwendolyn giggled, and Cinderella tried to hide her anger. Her laughter was cruel, whether it was aimed at her talking to her cat, or at the idea that he might be eaten by wolves.

Max pawed the dirt and then leaped in the air several times, doing somersaults before landing. Crazy cat.

Cinderella transferred her attention to the goblets. Might as well get started. She could think about possible solutions to the problem as she worked. She first selected a water goblet, since they were the largest type, and placed it on the X. Then she picked up a second one. The only way to stack it on top without using other materials in between was to put the second goblet upside down so the narrow round rims of the two goblets touched.

Inhaling to steady herself, she focused with her ninja concentration and added the second goblet. That was easy enough.

Carefully, she placed all the water goblets base to base, rim to rim, until the stack reached her eye level.

A wolf growled, and she snapped her head toward the garden to see Max come running out of the woods.

“Max, come.” The silly creature was going to get himself killed. What was it about that particular section of the woods, anyway? He’d been pawing there last night, too. There must be mice or moles living nearby.

She took the first wineglass and set it on the base of the last upside-down goblet, careful to center the smaller base perfectly inside the larger. Another wineglass, and then she’d no longer be able to reach the tower’s top.

Still, she wasn’t ready to give up.

A wolf snapped in the distance, and she turned to see Max running at the edge of the garden. But instead of coming back toward the house, he shot back into the woods, climbed a few feet up a tree trunk, and then leaped backward, doing a somersault to land on the same spot where he’d started.

The wolves went crazy, snarling and snapping and leaping up to try to catch him as he hit the tree on each pass. If those wolves could take even one step into the garden, they’d have cat for dinner.

Max repeated this bizarre move several times, and Cinderella considered stomping over there to pick him up and move him back into the cellar.

Her eyes opened wide.
Max, you clever cat. That’s brilliant!
As crazy as it was to think he’d purposefully offered a suggestion, and as nearly impossible her idea might be, it might prove to be her only chance.

She turned to the wall, about eight feet from her tower, and studied its round stones and mortar. It might just be possible, but only if she kept her focus and concentrated fully. And only if she executed leaps off the wall many feet higher than she’d ever tried before. Best to try a practice run without a goblet in her hand.

She did breathing exercises, using her diaphragm and lifting her arms to pull in more air, then lowering her arms and squeezing her solar plexus to force the air out. She repeated this several times until she felt centered, and then considered the height of her current tower and the distance from the wall.

She ran toward the wall and took a few running steps up the stones before springing up and back. Finding and keeping her eyes focused on the tower, she flew through the air, executing a backflip and ensuring her body was upside down as she passed over the tower of crystal. She landed on the other side of it and crouched, hiding the grin on her face.

She’d have to be lightning-quick. She’d have to concentrate as she’d never concentrated before, but she could do this. Her magic skills might not be well developed, but her secret ninja training would pay off tonight.

“What are you doing, you stupid girl?” Gwendolyn said, jumping up from her chair. “Even if you’ve given up, you don’t need to break the goblets. They cost money, you know.”

She ignored her stepsister, picked up a wineglass, drew three deep breaths, and then started off running toward the wall.

One foot planted, two, she scrambled up the wall’s surface, then pushed off and flipped back over her tower. She reached her arm down as she passed above the top of the tower, and set the goblet in place. Her task done, she rotated in the air and landed bent-kneed behind the tower. Max, no longer obsessed by the woods, had run back while she was placing the wineglass and now rubbed against her leg.

She glanced over to her stepmother and stepsisters. Agatha was staring at her with wide eyes, astounded, but both Gwendolyn and her stepmother scowled, more angry than impressed. With eight more wineglasses to add to the tower, she couldn’t allow any distractions.

Over and over, she added more wineglasses to the tower, end on end, until she was ready to move on to the smallest glasses of all, those for cordials. The diameter of each cordial glass was little more than an inch, and her movements would have to be that much more precise.

Her stepmother was now wringing a handkerchief in her lap as if she wanted it dead. Clearly she hadn’t expected to find Cinderella a mere six cordial glasses away from success.

The tower was more than twice her height now. She’d have to run faster to build up more speed, take more steps up the wall, and spring from it with more force and careful aim than before.

It was hard to believe she could do it, but what did she have to lose? The worst that could happen would be broken glasses, some cuts and bruises, maybe a twisted ankle if she landed badly.

She picked up a cordial glass, looked up at the tower sparkling in the light of her stepmother’s illumination spell, and then started off at a quick run.

After one, two, three, four, five scrambling steps up the wall, she threw herself up and back, eyes focused on her target, visualizing herself placing the base of the small goblet delicately in the center of the last wineglass she’d placed upside down. She floated through the air, strong, confident, centered.

And then the snowstorm started.

Huge flakes of snow clouded her vision and struck her face, melting as they landed. She ignored the white spots and concentrated on her objective, placing the cordial glass cleanly before completing her backflip’s rotation and landing once more on the courtyard surface.

She spun toward her stepmother, who was now standing up, her wand outstretched, a sneer on her lips. “You didn’t think I would make this easy, did you?” Her cackle carried like sleet through the night air. “I’m only doing it for your own good. How are you going to learn if you’re never challenged? The royal wizard will devise many tests even more challenging than this.”

Cinderella heard a wolf yelp and glanced over to the woods. Max had returned to his pawing, in the same place just inside the trees. What had gotten into that cat? He’d been acting strangely ever since the invitation from the palace had arrived, but she couldn’t worry about him right now. She had to complete the tower of glass or she’d never have the chance to win the lessons with the royal wizard.

She picked up the second cordial glass and held it, ready to set its rim on top of the one she’d just placed. Given the height she’d achieved and her success despite the short blizzard, the same velocity and trajectory of her last leap should do it. She prepared herself, visualized her objective, and ran as fast as she could.

This time, as she sprang off the wall, a driving wind slammed into her and pushed her off course. She adjusted in midair, flinging her arm across her body to spin herself laterally, and after twisting her body around twice as she passed the tower, she landed on the grass next to the stone courtyard—the cordial glass still in her hand.

She stomped toward her evil spectators. “That’s not fair,” she told her stepmother. “This isn’t the test you set out. We had a deal.”

“How dare you.” Her stepmother stood, wand raised. “I don’t make deals with insolent, badly behaved girls.” Her stepmother’s eyes glinted red in their centers and bore into Cinderella’s heart, filling her with fear.

This was no longer about completing this test. If she angered her stepmother further, it might be about saving her own life. Never before had she felt so certain that her stepmother was capable of murder.

Agatha rose from her chair and said, “Mother, you did agree.”

Her stepmother spun toward her daughter and an unseen force pushed Agatha back down into her chair. Agatha ducked her head as if protecting herself from further punishment, and Gwen shook her head and rolled her eyes, as if disgusted with her sister’s behavior.

“Go on then,” her stepmother said. She waved her hand at Cinderella. “Or do you give up?”

Cinderella tamed her rage and got back to work. One by one, she added the cordial glasses, focusing intensely on her task so that nothing her stepmother threw at her interfered. She merely adjusted her speed and height to compensate for the wind, the rain, the flashes of lightning—and now a swarm of moths. Only once was she forced to abort her flip and not place a glass.

When Cinderella placed the next-to-last cordial glass on the tower, her hair brushed the glass below it. She squeezed her eyes shut, but did not hear a crash. After landing, she squinted one eye open.

She’d done it. Only one more.

Fighting the pride and excitement threatening to distract her, she picked up the last glass and ran toward the wall at full speed, then leaped high toward the top of the tower. Surprised that there were no added challenges, she carefully placed the last glass and then stretched her body out straight, preparing to land.

But the instant that her feet touched down, the ground trembled beneath them.

An earthquake.

The tower shook, swayed from side to side, and then crashed, every goblet shattering into tiny pieces.

She turned to her stepmother. “I did it. Agatha, you saw, right? It’s not fair to cause an earthquake to knock it down
after
I finish.”

Agatha looked away. Her stepmother rose and shook her head. “So unfortunate, Cinderella. I thought you might have finally overcome your clumsiness, but it looks as though you won’t be going to the competition—or the ball.”