The Next Cinderella

Chapter 17--Undress For Success

Myrielle was a new woman.

Motivated, laser-focused, and ready to become the prince's wife if it killed her. Or him. Although neither of those scenarios would prove to be helpful given the end goal in mind.

In addition to the motivation of knowing her family had work and a proper home for as long as she competed, she was reminded of the personal goal she'd started to give up on: to earn the crown, redistribute food to the village, and eventually re-open the academy. This goal was non-negotiable if she joined the royal family, as she refused to co-rule in a confederacy of dunces.

But the first matter at hand was to actually become a princess.

She considered her plan of action that morning over breakfast, between spoonfuls of lukewarm porridge. She was sharing a table with the rest of the contestants in a room that was somehow even drearier than the dorm. This 'dining hall' was the deep and depressing underbelly of the tower; windowless, damp, and as miserable as the food.

In-between the clanging spoons and whispered excitement for the upcoming challenge, Myrielle heard laughter of the cruelest kind, coming from Bella and her cronies Helena and Josselyn.

Myrielle set her spoon down and channeled her focus into world-class, Olympic-caliber eavesdropping. And it worked.

"And then what'll happen?" Josselyn asked, still recovering from her latest heartless laugh.

"And then," said Bella sneakily, "she'll enter the ballroom, you'll pull the rope, and the bucket of pig's blood will spill all over her head!"

Bella laughed mercilessly, reveling in her plot to reenact the plot of 'Carrie' before the book had even been written.

Myrielle held her breath as she absorbed all the gory details. She knew Bella was convinced that she'd been sabotaged in her muddy lane, but did she truly intend to enact a revenge so humiliating? And bloody?

Josselyn scratched her head as she considered her role in the plan. "I'm confused," she said. "Where'll the bucket sit?"

Bella shrugged. "It can rest on a wooden archway of some sort. With a piece of wood lodged into the ceiling to hold it."

Helena seemed worried now. "And who has to build this contraption?"

Josselyn frowned as she examined her juicy man-hands. "These soft hands ain't done a lotta laborin'."

Bella swallowed down her annoyance. "We have plenty of time to sort out the details."

"I'm not so sure about anything involving wood," said Helena. "My cousin once had a splinter and eventually lost his hand."

Josselyn broke into a sob. "I can't lose my hand!"

The whispered plotting had turned into a spectacle and everyone was listening and it was driving Bella insane. She slammed her spoon on the table. "Just leave the details to me! " She regained her composure and cast her evil eye on Myrielle. "And yes, you're the one we were discussing."

Myrielle found herself speechless, finally realizing the scope of the bully in her midst.

The only way to handle a bully so bold was to be the one to make the first strike, but she just had to figure out the best and meanest way to do it...

***

That night in the wee hours when the girls were fast asleep, Myrielle disappeared for a lavatory break or so it was to be believed...

In reality she was wandering outside in the darkened field, rushing to pick out wildflowers by the light of the full moon. Her plan had come to her earlier in the evening, when she'd been thinking about the herb tea she'd normally be having back at home. Her mother had a penchant for tea-based concoctions, and in watching her try out different combinations, Myrielle had learned a lot about plants and their various effects. Her current plan had nothing to do with making tea, but it was certainly inspired by those herb-mixing moments.