The Step-Sister

The Wrong Colors

     "ELLA!!!", Cinderella screeched, "Tell Harry or whatever his name is to run as fast as he can to the fabric store and buy me 13 yards of silver and gold fabric and thread!"

     "Yes, milady, right away." Ella replied nervously, "What do you need it for?"

     "Like you need to know, but I'll tell you anyways, I need a new dress for the Prince's birthday ball. I've heard rumor that he is going to choose a bride, so I have to look my best. Now hurry and go before the fabric is all gone, all the eligible young women are commanded to attend."

     Ella curtsied and shuffled awkwardly out the door. Her foot was giving her trouble today. "Harold, Harold, Cinderella wants fabric!" Ella cried.

     Harold came bounding down the stairs. He was tall and muscular, with wild brown hair, dark, soulful eyes, and a charming smile. "What does the tyrant want this time?" He asked.

     "Shhhh! She might hear you!" Ella said as she looked over her shoulder as if to make sure Cinderella wasn't following her. "Do you know what she did to the last servant that called her that? She threw him out onto the street with nothing but his underwear on!"

     "Okay, I won't call her a tyrant, but I will call her a spoiled brat, because that is what she is, and even she can't deny it." Harold boasted in a whisper.

     "Fine, but call her that in a deserted alleyway on the way to the fabric store. She needs 13 yards of white and gold fabric, and don't forget the thread." Ella said, pushing Harold out the door.

     Ella made her way to the kitchen, where the cook was making dinner. "The dirty pots are by the sink, after you are done with that the bread wants kneading, the corn needs husking, and the floors need a mopping." The plump cook instructed.

     "Yes, Ma'am." Ella said wearily. I think you might be wondering why Ella is not being treated with respect. She is after all the step-daughter of Lord Alexander. The thing was, nobody remembered Ella. Some say that it was because Cinderella had a way with words. The fact was though, words are powerful things, no matter how clumsily or craftily used. Imagine if someone told you year after year, day after day, that green was orange. Pretty soon, you'd start to believe them. For years Cinderella had told everyone that Ella was nobody, so everyone knew that Ella was a nobody.

     Ella was almost done in the kitchen when an ear splitting screech split the air. Ella sighed, What does the tyrant want now? She thought bitterly, surprising herself. It was a dangerous line of thinking to pursue. Ella stood and brushed herself off, hobbling out of the kitchen to see what the commotion was about. In the front hall was none other than Cinderella, the queen of screeching, and Harold holding white fabric and gold fabric.

     "You imbecile! I wanted gold fabric and silver fabric! Not, that, you (I will leave out Cinderella's unladylike words for the sake of innocent minds) this is all your fault! I should have you thrown out onto the streets."

     "No." Ella said with a forcefulness that surprised everyone that knew her, a force that would have reminded some of her mother. "It was my fault, I told him the wrong fabric colors, all the blame is on me, not him."

     Cinderella laughed mockingly, "Why Ella I've never seen this side of you! You must really like him to risk standing up to me."

     Ella hung her head and she started shaking with fear. Cinderella had found another one of Ella's weaknesses, and Ella knew that Cinderella was not about to let go of that power.

     "I'll forgive you just this once," Cinderella said in a tone that scared everyone present, "I have a feeling that I'm going to want entertainment later on. Anyways, I've changed my mind on the colors, I want a dark red. Don't you think that would look dashing? This time I will go to make sure that the red matches what I had in mind. I can't have you buying a cherry red fabric when I need a crimson fabric. What am I doing telling you two? You two wouldn't know anything about this." Cinderella rambled as she walked out the front door to call the coach.

     As soon as the door closed Ella turned towards the kitchen, intending to finish her chores, but also to get away from Harold. Ella had never really shown any sign of her true feelings for Harold until today, and she was afraid that it would ruin the one friendship she had. A gentle hand on her shoulder stopped her. Ella braced herself for the worst. He's going to tell me that he could never love me, that he never had any feelings for me, and that our friendship is over, she thought.

     "Ella? Are you alright? I know how she makes you feel, but you are not nobody and you are not worthless. Do you understand that Ella?" Harold asked.

     Ella fell to her knees and sobbed, "No, no, I don't understand. I'm just a deformed nobody that works in the kitchen and..."

     "No!," Harold interrupted sinking to the floor and lifting Ella's chin, "That's exactly what she wants everyone to think, how she wants you to think, but I know better. I know that somewhere underneath the lies Cinderella has told, there is a strong, kind, confident, and beautiful young lady named Ella."

     Ella sniffed and leaned in towards Harold. Harold didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her. "Everything, will be alright, you'll see" Harold promised. "Now go upstairs to your room and take a day off, I'll finish your chores for you." Ella smiled, she wanted to refuse his offer, but the aching in her leg demanded she accept. Ella slowly and painfully climbed the stairs, vaguely aware that an old pain in her heart had eased away.