The Cinderella Effect

Wake up call

"Cindy... Cindy...ugh CINDY ELLA BAKERS!"
"Um.. yes ma'am?"
"Get up you lazy buffoon and make me and the girls breakfast."
"Yes ma'am."
I looked at my old Hello Kitty alarm clock and saw I was up an hour earlier than normal. Depressed I buried my pale lightly freckled face with my ancient fluffy pillow.

The pillow smelt like a mix of mother's perfume and sweat from the humid night before. It was at least 85 degrees in Beverly Hills California which wasn't bad but not my cup of tea.

I took the pillow off my face and sat up. My old little rusty cot started to creek as I place my feet against the cold brown wooden floor.

My room was located in the attic; it was small but in my experience you some how get use to small. The walls were painted ages ago in an ugly green color that had been chipped at around my bed by a bored twelve year old. The only proper "decor" I had in my room was an Imagine Dragons poster. I stared at that poster zoning for what seemed like ages but I some how came to my senses and started to get ready for another laborious day.

I went to my pathetic little white dresser and dug out an over sized Little Mermaid t-shirt ,one of my step-sisters received while she was at Disneyland a few years back, slipped on a pair of baggy jeans and I began to race down the four flights stairs.

As I reached the back kitchen door I heard a wretched sound come from behind me. I knew instantly who the voice belonged to.

"And where do you think you might be going?"

I turned around and saw a middle aged woman with straight thick black hair and a single streak of gray running down the side of her rather lage face. Her eyes were an icy blue that could freeze half of population, her lips were curled upwards as if she was snarling at me, and her awful mole was staring at me with an ugly look. This woman that was glaring at me was none other than my "loving" stepmother, Marie Abel.

"Don't you have chores you should be doing," she muttered in her awful French accent, "or do you have another "club" to go to."

"Actually," I replied meekly, "I'm meeting a friend at the pier. I was wondering if the twins could do today's chores?"

"WHAT," she screamed, "do you know what week it is. It is Prom week! Do you know how stressed they are, plus my girls are too good for this kind of work. You are a selfish little bastard for thinking such a thing! Now go and do all of the work I told you to do now and you can walk to school too!"

After her out burst I began to run out of the room in fear of being smaked again; my deep blue eyes began to water but I pushed down my feelings and kept on running towards the utility closet, I couldn't be late to meet him, not again.