The Princess Pages: A Girl Like Cinderella

Song Fifteen

MODEL. PRODIGY. SINGER. HEARTTHROB. SHALL I GO ON?

Lance's Diner was packed with famished customers that lunch hour.

"We'll have a large pepperoni and cheese pizza, four grape juices."

"More coffee over here!"

"Can I have more ketchup packets with my steak, please?"

"Waitress!There's a stick of gum on this chair!"

"Another order of spaghetti at table four!"

"How many refills can I actually have of strawberry juice?"

"Mommy! Daddy! That lady with the glasses looks like a ghost!"

Lucy's lungs begged for oxygen as she paced back and forth around the diner, gliding her trays over tables, manically scribbling down new orders, greeting and ushering new customers to vacant tables while Ronda wiped them clean, assisting the poor girl on her busy shift.

The teenager had been working non-stop for two hours, but it felt like two years,and as the battalion of customers petered down to a small quiet number, Lucy allowed herself to collapse on one of the two-seat round tables beside a window.

Beads of cold sweat running on the back of her neck, Lucy pressed her cheek against the glass, her blue eyes fluttering under heavy lids, strands of long black hair falling from her tired bun as she steadied her breathing.

Her heart still pounding, she unzipped her black backpack sitting at the leg of her chair, and pulled out her favorite red notebook, which her late mother gave her as part of a set on her eighth birthday. She had at least a dozen of the same notebook, but this one had black polka-dots scribbled on the front by her mom, who said it was for luck, hence, the ladybug pattern.

Flipping open the red notebook on her table, Lucy began writing poems furiously, ignoring the hunger stabbing her stomach and the new batch of sweat beading down her neck.

She only snapped out of her trance when a cold coffee mug and a turkey sandwich were deposited beside her elbow.

Looking up, Lucy found herself staring into Dan Walker's worried gaze.

"I don't know how long you plan on writing in your journal, but I think a break is long overdue."

Dan Walker was an honest-to-goodness American with short graying brown hair, a pair of hazel brown eyes, and the biggest heart in California.He'd been close friends with Lucy's dad in college, and had taken up Culinary Arts, and for the past fifteen years,has been the loyal cook at Lance's Diner as well as Lucy's second father-figure.

"Thanks, Dan," Lucy gratefully told the 40-year old cook as she wrapped her fingers around the white mug, taking a sip of the delicious iced coffee he'd mixed for her.

"You make the best coffee," she praised him, her mouth forming the tiniest of smiles.

"I know, L. Not to be rude, but you look terrible. Are you okay?"

She let out a long sigh before taking another sip of her iced drink.

"I was treated like a slave,as usual, my plans for today have gone kaput, and right now I feel a migraine setting in." Lucy slumped further down in her cushioned chair.

"But you're inspired. I can tell, from the way you were writing in your notebook."

Lucy's blue eyes half-closed, she leaned forward on her table,stroking the long poem she'd jotted down in only minutes. It was full of pain, angst, and her frustrations, all expressed in profound verses. Poetry was a ventilation of her emotions, and when she came up with a fresh tone and rhythm, she would convert it into song lyrics.

Picking up her no. 2 pencil, Lucy scribbled down POEM #387 on top of her work, signing it with the date and her signature.

She snapped the notebook shut, sinking into her chair, then burying her face in her crossed arms on the cold round table.

"L, your sandwich is getting cold," Dan reminded her as he stalked back to his work station.

Lucy slightly lifted her head, two blue eyes peeking from behind her arms at the two untouched sandwiches perched on a plate before her.

The black-haired, bespectacled girl was about to raise her chin when a voice boomed, "GOOD AFTERNOON TO EVERYONE!"

The voice came from the big flat screen above the counter, and belonged to none other than Celina Jones, clad in a dark green buttoned blouse, black pencil skirt, her black hair in a smart ponytail, and a determined smile on her mature face.

Lucy sat up in alarm, her spine straightening when she caught sight of a very familiar building in the background. Black marble. Iron-wrought gates. A huge banner declaring the hundredth year since the school was founded and established on the same week.

Her bluebell eyes were nailed on the screen, listening as intently as half the female customers in the diner.

"Today marks the hundredth year anniversary of one of the most prestigious schools, Green Day High School, in Oakley, California, and to shake things up, World famous singer Trent Oliver Morgan has chosen to grace his adoring public with his presence for the current week, taking in the sights, and perhaps, a lucky girl to escort to the upcoming Green Day Valentine's Day Ball this Saturday." The distinguished reporter gestured for her crew to follow her into the school.

Lucy's throat tightened at the mention of 'Ball', and her chest suddenly constricted painfully.

Shutting her eyes firmly, she inhaled and exhaled over and over, blocking out the trauma that had been weighing her down for years: Colorful strobe lights flashing from above. Red punch sloshing in tropical glasses. The never-ending jeers and cruel laughter brought on at her expense. Her trust in people, the people she'd valued. All gone in a blink of an eye.

When her eyes opened, she snatched a sandwich off its plate and munched into it, desperate for a distraction.

"Accompanied on his visit are good friends, Brad Fields, heir to the Fields-Food Empire, and Lawrence Lawson, future CEO of Lawson Technology, fully supporting their childhood friend's endeavors on the model's eighteenth birthday."

The picture zoomed in on the two handsome men sandwiching the famous singer, and more uproarious cheers were deafening as girls held up banners and placards amidst the cameras' flashes.

"I LOVE YOU, TRENT MORGAN!"

"I LOVE YOU MORE!"

"NO YOU DON'T!"

"BRAD! BRAD! LOOK THIS WAY! PLEASE!!"

"OH MY GOD LAWRENCE IS SO HOT!"

"SMILE THIS WAY, BOYS!"

"ONE OF YOU PLEASE MARRY ME!"

Lowering her semi-eaten sandwich, Lucy's eyes swept over the TV screen, drinking in the image of her crush and idol, dressed in black polo and white slacks. His eyes were concealed by a pair of stylish ray bans, and as he walked along the airy corridors of her school, she inwardly sighed.

A sigh of wistfulness; she should have been there. She could have been there. She so badly wanted to be there. 

"TRENT!" 

Lucy's stomach plummeted. She would know that voice anywhere.

On the screen, Beverly Stone shoved her way through the throngs of students and photographers, sniping insults at them before she clung to Trent Morgan's right arm as if her life depended on it.

"WHO ARE YOU?" One of the press asked, training his mic on Beverly, trying not to gawp at her revealing clothes.

Flicking her hair to the side, Beverly's pale green eyes shone imperiously at the cameras.

"Beverly Stone, and it'll do you all good to remember that name. Because you're looking at Trent Morgan's future girlfriend," the blonde proclaimed, earning a general gasp from everyone.