NOT A Cinderella Story

I'd always waited for my amazing, better-than-prince-charming boyfriend to ride in on his Harley. Or cruise in with his Lamborghini. From a very young age I had convinced myself that he was coming. He would come and take me away to his mansion, filled with hot dogs and chocolate fondue. He was just stuck in traffic, or was fighting off bad boys, anything, anything to get to his beloved.

Of course, that was me when I was five.

Now that I'm sixteen, I have very different views. The only person I wait for now is my idiotic step-brother to get out of the bathroom. And as soon as he's out, I'm shoved out of the way by his even more moronic twin sister.

They're fifteen. Over their heads. Wrapped up in their own lives. When they talk to me, it's to drive them here or there, or to do something. Celia seems to be going out with every guy worthy of her attention in school. She wears nothing less than bajillion dollar clothes and makeup, which is the reason I shop at a thrift store. And Mike always sticks to his video games. Every once in a while he'll say something and surprise us. I stay out of their way when I can.

Oh, don't worry. I'm not Cinderella. Not even close. For one, I'm not forced to do chores; they are imposed on me since I'm the oldest. It's always, "How do you expect the twins to do their own laundry, you're the oldest!", or "Don't you have any sense? The twins can't cook! And someone's got to feed them."

I also do have one biological parent. But he's blinded by my wonderful, sexy step-mother, who has him wound tightly around her pinky. And he's never home either. He's constantly on buisness trips around the world. When he does talk to me, it's to make sure I'm not dying and I'm doing well in school. The only real conversation I've ever had with him is the talk. You know, the one where he starts really awkward and asks me whether there are any boys he should know about. And then it comes.

"If you ever, uh, need anything, you can always ask me or Meredith. Just make sure that you're, ah, just make sure you play it safe." he says turning the color of a beet root.

"Oh, God! Dad! Umm, yeah, I'm fine." That's all I can manage before I sprint out the door to catch the bus, my face burning despite the chill of the morning.

And then there's my step-mother, Meredith. Cleavage up to her chin, makeup plastered to her face. She's every man's dream. She's so sickly sweet I have to gag to breathe. Or that could just be her perfume. And she refuses to accept the fact that she's aging. She has just about every anti-aging cream in her bathroom, and has had more spa treatments than half this town put together. She's always trying to stay "in tune" with us hipsters. I can't even count the number of times I've caught her raiding Celia's closet for something to wear.

And lastly, there's me. Lena. Just Lena. Plain, hardly noticed, blends-into-the-wall Lena. If we were a large family, I would be that awkward cousin no one remembers until they accidentally shatter a vase or spill water all over the kitchen. I'm here to make my parents look like good people in the community and to keep the house tidy. Honestly, it took Meredith and Celia several months to remember my name. so yeah, I'm pretty insignificant.

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Hello Lovely People!!! Thank you for reading my story!!! If you like it, comment, vote, fan, follow, etc. for more. I know it's a short chapter, but the next will be longer depending on how much you like it.