The Cinderella Society

EGMONT
We bring stories to life

First published by Egmont USA, 2010
443 Park Avenue South, Suite 806
New York, NY 10016

Copyright © Kay Cassidy, Inc., 2010
All rights reserved

www.egmontusa.com
www.kaycassidy.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Cassidy, Kay
The Cinderella Society / Kay Cassidy.
p. cm.
Summary: After winning a coveted spot on the high school cheerleading squad,
sixteen-year-old newcomer, Jess Parker, is still treated as an “outsider” by the
majority of the student body thanks to the harassment campaign led by
the popular cheerleader she displaced.
eISBN: 978-1-60684-250-8
[1. Cheerleading—Fiction. 2. Bullying—Fiction. 3. Cliques (Sociology)—Fiction.
4. Popularity—Fiction. 5. High schools—Fiction. 6. Schools—Fiction.
7. Georgia—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.C268582Cn 2010

[Fic]—dc22
2009026157

CPSIA tracking label information:
Random House Production • 1745 Broadway • New York, NY 10019

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

v3.1

For my mom

my role model, my friend, and
the world’s first Honorary Cindy.

I love you, Mom.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Chapter 1

THERE ARE MOMENTS IN LIFE
when you know things will never be the same. When you’re called to the edge of adventure and given the chance to break free, uninhibited by your past, and claim the life you were meant to live.

Relax. This was totally not that kind of day.

Everyone around me was either scribbling furiously to finish their advanced algebra final, talking quietly until Mr. Norman gave them dirty looks, or texting each other on cell phones discreetly tucked into pants pockets and Prada totes. Me? I was mostly trying to be invisible. Praying to end my heinous year without drawing more negative “new kid” attention from my cohorts at Mt. Sterling High.

The last bell finally rang, and the rest of the class rushed the door in hot pursuit of a summer of freedom. In two seconds flat, it was just Mr. Norman and me gathering up our stuff.

“Great job catching up, Jess,” he said as he shoved our exams into his battered briefcase. “Transferring midsemester is tough, but your grades are top of the class. Your last math teacher would be proud.”

Super
.

Don’t get me wrong. Usually, a teacher’s compliment is not something I’d scoff at. I work my butt off to keep up my GPA. But right then, being a brainiac was about the only thing I had going. And when the one person who bothers to engage you in conversation is a fortysomething who reads
The Calculus News
cover to cover, you know you’re inches away from rock bottom on the social barometer.

I waved my thanks—not wanting to alienate a teacher I’d have for trig next year—and headed for the door.

By the time I hit the hall, it looked more like a frat house than a high school. Or what I imagined a frat house would look like. High fives were being exchanged, and many a folder’s contents had been unceremoniously dumped in the nearest trash. Kids raced outside, throwing confetti laced with M&M’s and shouting reminders of upcoming parties to friends, while Janitor Joe bellowed about messes and respect and proper receptacle use. Even Rick, the hottie assistant janitor, was shaking his head, and he couldn’t have been much older than we were.

And then there was me, silently making my way through the madness. I reached my side hall, but couldn’t get to my locker because of the couple making out in front of it. Classy. Now I had to stand there looking like a gawker or find something to do, quick.

I leaned against a standard-issue gray door a few lockers down from mine and started doodling on my folder, keeping the writhing couple in my peripheral vision until I could make a play for my locker.

The bane of my existence walked by, flanked by her cronies, and slowed to look into my locker alcove. Lexy tossed her straight jet-black hair over one shoulder and whispered to her gang. They stared at me with undisguised contempt
while Morgan, Lexy’s chief suck-up, cackled with laughter.

Subtle, my enemies were not.

You’d think Lexy would’ve gotten bored of tormenting me after two months, even though I made an easy target. I’d only been there a couple of weeks when they’d had cheerleading tryouts for next year’s team. Cheering was the one thing I looked forward to no matter how many times we moved. I loved it. The precision, the creativity, the high of nailing the perfect stunt. The problem was that by adding me—an outsider in the MSH cheer ranks—to the varsity team, there was one less spot for the insiders. Namely one Alexandra “Lexy” Steele. A defeat she did not accept gracefully. Or quietly.

So now, most people knew me by face, though I’d usually be referred to as “That New Girl.” Spoken with disdain. That New Girl who stole super popular, nasty-as-a-Rottweiler Lexy Steele’s spot.

Sometimes invisibility is bliss.

Knowing she had my full attention, Lexy turned into my alcove. She bumped past the heavy breathers and stopped inches away from me. “Rumor has it you’ve got big plans for the summer. Hanging with our Beaumont besties, are we?”

Lexy’s sidekicks snickered at the infamous rumor that I’d wanted to cheer at rival Beaumont High because I thought the MSH team was “a bunch of stuck-up divas who wouldn’t know a handspring from a hand-me-down.”

I considered ignoring her, but it was kind of hard to do when she was close enough to smell the Tic Tac on my breath. I tried to sound bored. “Why would I do that when I’ve never met them? The rumor doesn’t even make sense.” Not that any of my teammates seemed to notice.

“Funny thing about rumors,” Lexy said. “They don’t
have to be true, now, do they? They only have to be believable enough to make an impact.” A self-satisfied smile hinted at her lips. “Tell me, Thief … did it make an impact?”

And there you go
.

I’d always suspected Lexy had to be the source of the rumor—given her personal vendetta against me—but I’d never expected her to own up to the lie so willingly. Or be so proud of it. Then again, what good was her power if she couldn’t flaunt it when the mood struck?

And yes, of course it was a total lie. But it was also a lie I hadn’t known about until the damage was done. With no one to back up my side of the story, the cheerleaders were keeping their distance.

I might’ve beaten Lexy for a spot, but she’d made sure they wouldn’t accept me as one of their own.

“Why don’t you just quit and save yourself the misery?” she asked, a mock sadness enveloping her. “Don’t you ever get tired of being around people who think you’re nothing?”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from saying one of the thousand rude things screaming through my mind. And to keep my emotions under wraps. I’d never yet let her get a rise out of me, but I suspected we both knew that day was coming. Cornered at my locker on the last day of school, however, wasn’t the time or place.

Instead, I stared straight back at Lexy, giving her a carefully schooled expression of self-assured indifference. I’d perfected that look a long time ago to guard against bullies. You couldn’t look angry or threatening (that only engaged them), and you couldn’t look intimidated (a massive bully turn-on). It was a fine line to walk, but you couldn’t afford to overstep it if you wanted any chance of being left alone.

“Not up to a challenge today, huh?” She gave a pouty
frown. “You disappoint me, Parker. I’d lower my expectations of you, but they’re already six feet under.”

Smug in the knowledge that she’d won another round, Lexy about-faced and headed for the main hall. She said something under her breath that prompted her whole crew to swivel their heads in my direction. They looked down their surgically sculpted noses, dismissed me as meaningless, and strolled out of sight.