Cinderella

Her Birthday

Mariette traveled with Mistress Auréle in that carriage every day. She grew to love the three people that were her best friends. On her fifteenth birthday, the three awaited her with small wrapped packages. She stepped out of the carriage and ran to them, without even telling Mistress "Goodbye."

She blushed as Winslow pulled her into a hug. She didn't know where she stood with him these days. He had kissed her a year previous, and their friendship had been of an odd quality since then.

"Happy birthday," he told her, putting her at arm's length.

"Don't I get a hug?" Leo asked, and Perri elbowed him in the ribs, "Just kidding," he said defensively. Perri rolled her eyes and Mariette laughed.

Winslow turned her to him impatiently and handed her a piece of folded cloth.

"What's this?" she asked, smiling into his grey eyes.

He placed a warm hand on each of her shoulders, "Open it."

Mariette pulled back one of the folds. Nestled in the rich brown fabric was a gold band. The ring had a smoothed piece of emerald wrapped in it, and the thin gold was spun around it like a web. Mariette gasped out loud, "This must have cost you a fortune. How-"

He smiled. "I've been saving up for a while."

Mariette ran a pale hand over it and then slipped it on her finger where it fit perfectly. "It's beautiful." She stretched onto her toes so that she could kiss his cheek. "Thank you."

He blushed. "You're welcome."

"Me next! Me next!" Perri interrupted from behind them. She rushed forward to hand Mariette a small bundle. Mariette tugged it open. Inside was a rich scarlet gown.

"This is marvelous!" she said to Perri. "Did your father make it?"

Perri's father was the best clothier in town, excluding only Ulric. "Of course," she said. "Oh, and it's from Leo and I together."

"Thank you," Mariette said. "Thank you both. It's wonderful."

"Actually, Leo and I have to leave," Perri said sheepishly, backing away. "There's um...a problem...with, um...the dyes at my father's...and, uh...we need Leo's help."

"Oh," Mariette said, her violet eyes falling. "That's okay, then. I'll see you later."

Perri and Leo gave fleeting waves before rushing off.

Mariette turned to Winslow. "Did that seem odd to you?"

"Not at all," he said mischievously. He tucked an errant strand of black behind her ear. "What does it feel like to be fifteen?"

Winslow was a year older than her, sixteen now, and he enjoyed rubbing it in her face. She jokingly punched him in the shoulder. "It doesn't feel any different, halfwit."

He smiled. "Shame. Here I was hoping you'd finally reach my level of wit and maturity."

Mariette snorted-she had adapted the awful gesture from Winslow-and said, "It is highly incorrect to use the words 'wit' and 'maturity' in the same sentence if it involves you and doesn't have the word 'not' somewhere."

Winslow pondered. "How about, 'Winslow is exceedingly witty and mature, and is not incompetent in any way'?"

Mariette sighed. "You are impossible."

Winslow's eyes became suddenly intent; he brushed his hand against her cheek. "I know." He leaned forward carefully, and Mariette's breath quickened as she realized his intent. He was going to kiss her, right here in the middle of the street, where anyone could see. She couldn't bring herself to care.