"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."

She pursed her lips. "Quite frankly, Lucy, I was shocked. No one has ever spoken to me like that

before." I didn't know if she expected another apology, but if so, she wasn't getting it. I may not

have wanted to be grounded for life, but even freedom is worth just so much ass-kissing.

I continued with the speech I'd planned out while brushing my teeth. "And your friend staying in

my room-- I mean, that's fine. I'll--it's fine for me to sleep in the den while she's here. I'm going

to clean out my stuff--I mean, clean out--up--I'm going to clean up my room for her." My

delivery had been much more polished when I was talking to my reflection in the mirror than it

was now.

"Well," she said, "I'm certainly glad to see this change in your attitude." She nodded at me.

"Your apology is accepted."

Was I supposed to thank her? I didn't say anything.

"Now," she continued, "since you're not going out with your friends tonight"--I loved how she phrased it as if the choice had been mine--"your father would like you to join us for dinner."

It didn't sound like the "invitation" was exactly optional, but I pretended to consider her offer for a second before saying, "Yeah, sure."

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"Fine. Then we'll see you later," she said. I turned to go. "No jeans, tonight, please," she called after me.

Five minutes later I was back in bed, where I instantly fell asleep. The next thing I knew, there

was a pounding on my door.

"What?" I yelled. I had that fuzzy, brainless feeling you get from sleeping way too long.

Somehow the Princesses heard my "What?" as "Come on in!" and they bounded down the stairs.

"You were sleeping?" said Princess One.

"No," I said. "Sometimes I just like to lie in the dark for hours with my eyes closed."

They both stared at me for a minute. "Are you joking?" Princess Two asked finally.

"Yes, I am joking," I said, yawning. "Now, what do you want?"

"Connor called," said Princess Two. "It's on the answering machine." She put her hands on her hips. "Is he, like, your boyfriend?"

"Yes," I said. I felt a little scared after I'd said it, as if I was jinxing myself.

"Julie Wexler told us that her sister told her that Connor's the most popular boy in school," said Princess One. Even in the pale light that filtered down from the kitchen, I could see the awe in

her eyes. Julie Wexler had recently replaced Jennifer Johnson in the Princesses' best friend

rotation; her pronouncements were repeated as if she, like an Old Testament

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prophet, spent most of her time communicating directly with God.

"I guess he's popular," I said, arching my back and yawning.

Princess Two eyed me briefly before turning toward the stairs. "Come on!" she called to her

sister, "We have to get dressed."

Princess One walked along the bed, trailing her fingers across the comforter. She kept giving me