Elle

Elle steps out of the carriage, her perfect blond curls undisturbed by the wind. I watch her loftily walk over to us, appraising us, judging if we are worthy of her respect.  Her expression changes as she assess our house.  She seems to have decided we we are worthy of nothing.

"Good morning, Lady Tremaine."

She emphasizes Mum's title, as if questioning its validity.  On top of this, her voice is irritatingly nasally, and her overall presentation so far grates on my nerves.

"Good morning," Mum replies. "I presume you're Elle? Your father sent us a letter a few days ago."

"Yes. Who else would I be?" she scoffs.

Ignoring her arrogance, I step forward and make my introduction.

"It's nice to meet you, Elle.  I'm Ana.  I hope we can get along well over the next few days."

"I hope I'm not forced to stay here that long.  You can take my bags in."

She hands me two cases which are definitely much heavier than they look and strolls into our house like she owns it.

"Remind me, why on Earth are we having her over?" I hiss at Mum. I had only been given warning of her arrival once Mum saw her carriage coming up the road.  Two minutes was most definitely not enough time to figure out what was happening.

"Elle is a perfectly nice young lady, " Mum responds.

"She might be a little spoiled, but we owe her father. He plans to forgive our debt if we let her stay over."

"But why is she here now? She must know that everyone's busy with preparations for the ball this weekend.  We won't be able to be proper hosts.  We are still going to the ball, right?"

"That may be why she came too."

"She can't go to the ball! The decree very specifically stated that it was for our province only.  The palace would be overcrowded if the entire kingdom was invited."

Mum stares at me like the answer should be obvious.

"Why else would she want to stay with us?"

Lovely.  She plans to sneak in and cheat the system.

We both head inside to find Elle looking around, scrutinizing what she has seen so far. She shrivels her nose in distaste, clearly not approving of our modest home.

"Where will I be staying? Please tell me it's better than this dump."

The nerve of that girl! I will have you know, our sitting room is very nice. And certainly not a dump. Mum leads her to the guest bedroom while I practice deep breathing exercises. I wouldn't want to "accidentally" assault our guest. Or "accidentally" hire a fairy to chuck a hex at her. I spend the rest of the day thinking calm, peaceful thoughts about Elle (with her hair standing straight up like a troll. And maybe a few frogs hopping out of her mouth when she speaks. But nothing too extreme.)

The next day, I scour my closet looking for my best dress. The ball is in three hours, and I have yet to assemble my planned outfit or arrange my hair.   My dress is a satin beauty, dark pink and white, and I  spent hours toiling over it last week, perfecting it to best fit my body. I still need to find it, and it seems to have gone missing. Time to contact the specialist: Mum.

"Mum. Have you seen the pink gown I sewed for the ball?" I call, making my way to her room across the hall.

"I haven't.  Shouldn't it be in your closet?  If you were acting logically, you would have put it there last week."