Mr. Cinderella

Chapter 1

          “C’mon! Let’s face it, that person will never like you. So why don’t we just go to KFC and grab a burger and fries?

          “Oh, and a large coke! At least that’s something real.” Marga suggested while we are sitting on the bench under that old mahogany tree, watching Alex on the tennis court.

          Margaret Hastings, just like in any fairytale, is my only close friend since when I was twelve. She is pretty but not in a way that any man will want to take him on a date. Marga is a typical girl, with an outrageous personality. She laughs with the nonsense things; a happy go lucky woman who owns a Maserati car and an incredible straight A grades with a zero hint of lovelife.

          “KFC? But we have just taken our lunch in McDonalds an hour ago.” I answered back, but then I was too late we are already walking. She’s unstoppable as hell!

          She ordered for me and she did all the talking which took us an hour there. Marga says that there’s this guy she just recently like whom she thinks the man of her dreams, her long lost prince. Well, I heard that a hundred times and still nothing changes.

          “And that’s why we are going to the promenade night!” She ended her story exuberantly.

          “I am not going. You know my step-mom. She’s a wicked witch.”

          “Here comes your Cinderella story again.” She mumbled.

          This is not a Cinderella story but yes I have a step-mother whom my dad married when my real mom died when I was eleven. I love my real mom, but I also love my dad. He is my best friend and I am his.

          So I let him marry Helen Raisins, a divorcee who had twin sons named Lenny and Baron. I do not think I need to exemplify this scene anymore, you know what happen to Cinderella’s father after he married her step-mom, right?

          My dad left no will, which made me so dependent to Helen. She saved everything my dad had left but unfortunately it’s only for herself and her sons. I worked seven days a week on my dad’s cafe because this is only the way that I can study. If I will not do this, my dream of having a college degree will be burned into ashes.

          In short, my dad passed away and I have nothing left but his folder of manuscripts. Writing is one of his passions, aside from baking, and to tell you he’s better than Shakespeare.

          “Yeah, I know. But I have no choice you know. So, Margaret Hastings don’t you ever put my name on that magical box where all the promenade participants put their names!” I commanded her while munching the burger she ordered.

          I don’t want to be partnered with a stranger. It is a tradition that people attending the prom, will put their names or pseudonyms on the two magical boxes, one box for the girls and one for the boys.

          The principal and the faculty will do the random partnering and the list of partners will just be posted on the day of that night.