Glass Slipper

Chapter V.

I wake up with a pounding headache. Saturday. The only day of the week I get to sleep in. I check the time: it's a quarter after ten.  Groggy with sleep, I shuffle around my room to get dressed. I find a nice pair of jeans with a plaid, button down shirt. I braid my hair back out of my face and brush on a little bit of makeup. The sweet smell of pancakes fills my nose. I run downstairs into the dinning room. Sofia, Harley, and my dad all sit at the table with plates of half-eaten pancakes in front of them. Their glasses are empty and there's a huge dish in the center of the table with four strips of bacon left. The cook gives me a sad look of pity as she passes me to clean up their mess. None of them even look up at me. "Good morning," I say in a small voice. Again, no one looks; no one even acknowledges I'm in the same house, let alone the same room. I try again, this time a little louder, "Good morning." Father shifts his newspaper and peers over his glasses at me.

"Natalie," he goes back to his paper. I stand there, and shuffle my feet. He glances back up at me. "There's some Cream of Wheat in the pantry, if you're hungry. Rachel can get it for you." He finishes his coffee and slides past me. I hear his car start, as he heads out for work. I stare at the table in bewilderment. Cream of Wheat? Harley gives me a smug look.

"What's the matter dear? You think Liam's going to take a fat cow to homecoming?" She lets out a deep cackle. "We're out of Cream of Wheat. We're out of everything...for you." She smooths her dress and clatters down the hallway. My eyes linger on the mouth-watering stack of pancakes. My stomach growls--I skipped dinner last night. Sofia pats her lips with a white, linen napkin and stands.

"Hungry?" she chirps. "All you have to do is tell Liam you're not interested." I clench my jaw.

"Never," I reply sharply. A look of pain flashes over her face.

"Fine," she sputters. "He'll get bored with you in a week or two anyways. You're ugly!" She turns on her heel and stomps off, her words dangling in the air. I shrug. Her insults mean nothing to me anymore. The cook comes in and cleans off the table. She nods her head in my direction, telling me to follow her. I check to make sure neither Harley or Sofia are around, and walk into the kitchen. The plate of bacon is on the counter, and the left over pancakes are sitting on top of the trashcan lid. Rachel puts a finger to her lips and gives me a warm smile. I mouth the words 'thank you' and sit on the floor, behind the bar. I cut off the parts that have been eaten off of and finish the rest. I'm handed a glass of orange juice and I gulp it down quickly. So this is my life now, I think to myself, eating leftovers out of Harley's trashcan. I sigh and pick myself off the cold floor. At least it's still food. I carry my dishes to the sink and unload the dishwasher. I figure I might as well help the staff every way I can, in an effort to thank them for helping me. They could lose their jobs for it, and who knows what else. I finish cleaning up and walk outside. I walk the mile into town and pass through all of the stores. There's a small bakery of the corner. The scent of warm cookies draws me in. My mother and I used to make them together while my dad was at work. She loved to bake. She taught me to make cookies, cakes, muffins, and pies. It was one of her favorite pastimes.

The sign on the window asks for help. I let my feet walk me into the tiny shop and over to the counter. A big man in a tall hat and a huge smile greets me. "You like cookies?" he asks. "We're having a two for one special. Here," he says, as he hands me a free sample. I bite into the warm cookie and feel the chocolate melt on my tongue. It tastes the way my mom's used to. "How many?" He flashes me a smile.

"Actually, I saw your 'help wanted' sign," I begin. The baker nods.

"We're in trouble," he says solemnly. "The people are tired of just cookies and bread. We may go out of business," he casts his eyes down to the counter. Sympathy swells inside my chest.