Not So Cinderella

Chapter 6

A/N

I am so sorry. I've been meaning to update... (insert excuses here). The fact is, writers block, college, I also traveled abroad to Japan so that's exciting. My Japanese is still bad just not as bad. Better oral comprehension and my grammar is a tad better, but my English vocabulary is suddenly scrambled. How to English? English how? What was that word I used to know, but suddenly it escapes me?

Any who, its probably time for an update if you're still willing to read it.

Pic above is Mrs. Madley

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Ella's POV

Ella was exhausted, understandably after her first day of school, a 4 hour shift at work, picking up the twins from soccer practice, cooking dinner, cleaning up after dinner, reviewing her school work, and preparing for tomorrow she finally had her turn in the shower and flopped down, face first, onto her bed. A muffled moan and she rolled over onto her back. The ceiling was peeling and in desperate need of a paint job. She shifted her eyes over to the clock and it blinked back at her "12:00."

12 on the dot. Her feet ached and she was already dreading tomorrow. Or today depending on how you look at it. She sat up slowly and, in the hopes of keeping her hair tame, braided it then went to bed. 

As she lay there her mind inadvertently drifted off to the parasite that clung to her side the whole day. Logan Ashford. She scoffed and shifted to get comfortable, brushing the thoughts of him from her mind. As her eyed grew heavy and darkness closed in, deep hazel green eyes and a cocky smirk lingered.

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7:30 AM

That blasted alarm clock deserved to die. Ella slammed her fist on the button and rose. As she shuffled over to the mirror she sighed and glanced at her reflection. Same tired eyes, slumped posture, baggy shirt, pale skin that enhanced the bags under her eyes, and tangled bird's nest of hair. The braid did nothing, it could arguably have made it even worse. The hair tie stubbornly clung to the mangled fray of ends it managed to keep a hold of. Ella, short on patience, especially in the morning, simply untangled what she could and ripped out the rest. At this point she would kill for some conditioner. With three boys in the house, conditioner was basically obsolete, an unnecessary expense. They had to save where they could.

Dressed in a debatably purple long sleeve shirt, black leggings, and a pair of black sneakers that desperately needed to retire, Ella pulled her hair up into a bun and made her way into the kitchen. She cut a small variety of fruits for breakfast and packed sandwiches into lunch packs. She munched on an apple herself and counted down softly

"...5...4...3...2...1..."

Thuds and dull crashes disrupted the morning silence and Ella couldn't hold down a tiny smile, 'right on cue.'

"Ella! My briefcase!?"

"Ella! My right... no left shoe!?"

"Ella! Where are my lucky socks!?"

The twins came crashing into the kitchen, heavy footsteps audible from down the hall. One had on a single shoe, the left shoe on the right foot in his haste, looking frantically for its missing pair. The second had a complete pair in his hands looking for the missing socks hanging from his pants pocket. Their father followed close behind tripping over his briefcase placed against the wall leading into the kitchen.

Ella tossed the apple core away and smoothed down the birds nests that resembled Ella's own. Hard to tame hair must have been some recessive gene passed down from her mother's side. Not fair really. She scooted over to her father and grabbed the tie she had set on the counter beforehand. She yanked off the one already on his neck, a hideous and tacky lime green with little white snowflakes. In August. She skillfully looped and tied off the deep blue that she had chosen in its place.