you started shouting at her and the girls." He wasn't yelling, but I could tell he was getting
frustrated.
"I can't believe you're just taking her side like that," I said. "You're not even listening to me."
"Lucy, I am not taking sides. I'm only telling you what I heard."
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But when he put his hands flat on the desk's green blotter, his wedding ring gleamed.
I gripped the arms of my chair, hard. "Well, you heard wrong."
"So what did happen?"
Had he totally missed my previous description?
Even though I've never been much of a crier, for the second time in as many days, I felt my chin
quiver and my eyes filling with tears. "You don't understand what it's like for me living here.
You're off in San Francisco living it up while I'm trapped with the Wicked Witch of the East and
her evil spawn."
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. Some things aren't meant to be
said out loud.
My dad put his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes. Then he looked up at me. "Lucy, when you
say things like that, it makes it really hard for me to believe Mara's making up stories about how you insult her and the girls."
I snorted. "Oh, yeah, like you'd believe me even if I didn't say things like that."
"Why do you act like we're all ganged up against you? Everyone is struggling to make this
family work. Everyone."
I couldn't believe it. Struggling? Struggling! "Do you mean shopping, Dad? Do you mean everyone is shopping to make this family work? Because I don't see a whole lot of struggling
going on around here."
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"And that is exactly the kind of snotty response I'm tired of," said my dad. "How is that a helpful thing to say?"
"Well, maybe I don't want to be helpful," I said, standing up. "Maybe I'm tired of being helpful."
My dad stood up, too. "Tired of being helpful? Lucy, to be tired of something you have to do it
for a while."
"You know they totally ignore me when you're not here, Dad. All they do is go shopping and go
to movies and go to dinner without me."
"Lucy, just last weekend Mara asked you to come into the city with us, and you said no."
"Dad, are you blind} She only asked me to go because you were sitting right there. She wants you to think she cares about me, but really, she hates me."
"She hates you? Is that why she was so upset that you yelled at her last night, because she hates
you? If she hated you, would she even care? Would she even care that you don't come home
when she tells you to? Wouldn't she be just as happy not to see you if she hated you?"
"No," I said, sniffling. "She doesn't just hate me. She hates me and she wants to ruin my life."
"Lucy, I really don't know how you expect me to respond to that kind of paranoia."
He didn't say anything after that, and I didn't either. I knew it was pointless for me to try and
defend myself anymore.
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We were now moving on to the sentencing phase of the trial.
"I want you to apologize to Mara for what happened," he said. He took some tissues out of the
box on his desk and handed them to me. "I know it would mean a lot to her after what you said.
And until we see a real change in your behavior, you're not to go out with your friends."
I'd had my nose buried in a tissue, but when he said that last part, my head snapped up.
"Grounded? You're grounding me? For how long?" As far as I could tell, he'd just grounded me indefinitely.
"Until we see a change in your attitude." He waited a second, but I was too nonplussed by my
punishment to respond. Finally he continued. "Look, I know you're sad, Lucy, and I'm sorry. But
I think if you think about it, you'll see you're bringing this on yourself."
The room was deadly silent. When it became clear I still wasn't going to say anything, my dad
sat down. I stayed standing, and he looked up at me. "Why don't you get some sleep, Goose. If
you want, we can talk about this in the morning. Good night."
He didn't even wait for me to leave the room before turning back to his computer. I had been
dismissed. By the time I got to the door, he was busy typing away.
Nothing.
That's what happens to the stepmother in Cinderella.
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Nothing.
I just Googled the story because I remembered how in Sleeping Beauty, the fairy who caused all
the trouble turns into a dragon and Prince Charming stabs her, and she dies this really horrible
death. But there's nothing like that in Cinderella. In fact, you never find out what happens to
Cinderella's stepmother or her stepsisters. As far as I can tell the three of them just spend their
time hanging out, probably getting some new girl to bring them breakfast in bed and hand-wash
their clothes. I guess you're supposed to think it's punishment enough that they have to live the
rest of their lives knowing Cinderella's got this really hot husband and is living the perfect life,
while they're just three ugly, mean ladies destined to grow old and die without ever getting a
photo spread in Palace Monthly.
But what if Cinderella's life isn't so perfect? Like, what if Prince Charming throws up on
Cinderella's boots after his team loses the big game? And what if the most popular girl in school
implies that the only reason Cinderella's got the Prince in the first place is because she wasn't
interested in him? And what if Cinderella gets grounded for an unspecified period of time? What
if that's how the story ends? What if that's happily ever after?
Well, if you want my opinion, that sucks.
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Chapter Eighteen
Mara was sitting at the kitchen table when I got up the next morning. Her back was to me, and
walking around the table, I saw she was writing a thank-you note. That's basically her favorite
activity, writing these really phony notes to her friends and acquaintances. My dear Laura, How
can I ever thank you for the lovely time we had yesterday evening? You are such a generous,
delightful hostess....
"Hi," I said, trying not to sound as defeated as I felt. She wore a coordinated peach pantsuit, and her hair and makeup were flawless. It was as if she were planning to spend the day running for
office.
"Hello, Lucy," she said, looking up at me.
"Um, listen," I said. I stood with my hands on the back of the chair opposite her, one foot resting on the ankle of the other, like a little kid.
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"Yes?" she said. She kept her pen poised to write, making it clear I'd better talk fast.
"I just wanted to, you know, apologize for what I said the other night."