#TheRealCinderella Read online

  Mr. Nguyen sat at his desk, flipping through a large stack of papers. He looked up and met my eyes. I shifted my gaze down and got to work.

  With a minute left in class, Mr. Nguyen got up and asked everyone to pass their quizzes up the row so he could collect them.

  The guy in front of me groaned. “Well, pretty sure I bombed that.” He ran his fingers through his light brown, curly hair.

  I couldn’t remember his name, only that he was a senior—a year ahead of me. I snuck a peek at his notes as I handed him my quiz. He had half the notes I did, and they were covered in drool. Not to mention they were illegible.

  I sat back in my seat, not sure how I did. I’d be happy if I earned a B. Math was my strong suit, but the questions Mr. Nguyen put on his pop quizzes were always harder than the examples he did with the class.

  Thankfully, my next couple of classes went a lot better than math. No quizzes. Just notes and worksheets. Lunch was my favorite part of the day, other than computer class, but I didn’t have that until last hour.

  Courtney and Lindsay shared my same lunch period, but they always hung out with their usual group of cheerleader and jock friends. They talked loudly and joked around, often at someone else’s expense.

  I walked as far away from them as I could and sat down at an empty table on the opposite side of the cafeteria. I preferred to eat lunch solo and talk to my best friend. He didn’t go to this school, but his lunch time was around mine, so I chewed on my cardboard pizza and waited for my phone to buzz.

  I scrolled through some of my social feeds. My phone went off with a notification. It was him.

  None of the teachers were around, but I double-checked before focusing solely on his message.

  Baller929: Hey :)

  I smiled. Lunch was our time to catch up on each other’s day.

  He used to have a different username, Baller23, but he’d changed it not long ago, and he wouldn’t tell me why. I still nagged him about it from time to time, wondering about the significance of 929, but it was useless.

  TheRealCinderella: So is it the number on your basketball jersey this year?

  He sent an eye-roll emoji.

  Baller929: Yeah, that’s it. Oh wait. Jerseys only have two-digit numbers. Try again, haha.

  TheRealCinderella: Oh lol. I will guess eventually, you know!

  Baller929: We’ll see ;)

  Then he sent a basketball emoji. Which he did like ten thousand times a day. Basketball was his thing.

  Sports, clearly, were not my thing.

  I sent back a computer emoji to signify my geekiness. I was by no means a hacker or computer expert or anything like that, but I knew more than most people in the school. Than a lot of the teachers. I was that girl most teachers asked for help when it came to technology, like hooking up their laptops to their classroom flat screens. Or checking email on their phones.

  My dad used to work with computers, so I’d learned my way around them pretty young. He was a programmer, and I used to sit on his lap and watch him code.

  Baller929: So are you ever going to tell me who you really are, Cinderella? Or is that your real name?

  I stared at that text.

  He asked me this question when we first met online and started talking last year, but I never could bring myself to tell him who I really was.

  We knew almost everything about each other except our real names. We were both in eleventh grade. He was on the varsity basketball team at his school.

  Meanwhile, I was a complete nobody at mine.

  Which was why I didn’t want to tell him the truth about who I was. If he looked me up online—if he even saw my picture—he’d stop talking to me in a heartbeat.

  I mean, I had classes with some of the varsity basketball players here. They were tall, handsome, and the most popular guys in school. Most of them thought they were God’s gift to us average high schoolers and wouldn’t look twice at anyone who wasn’t as high as them on the totem pole. Cheerleaders, mainly.

  I didn’t really know any of the jocks, and of course, they didn’t know I even existed. But I knew how things worked around here. People like me weren’t friends with guys like them.

  I wondered if Baller929 was like that. Was he nice in real life? Or just to me? Did he think I was popular and just as good-looking as Lindsay and Courtney?

  I texted him back.

  TheRealCinderella: Have you ever met anyone who was actually named Cinderella? No, that’s not really my name. LOL.

  Baller929: Does it start with a C then? And if I did ever meet a girl actually named Cinderella, I’d go ballistic because I’d know it had to be you :)

  TheRealCinderella: :)

  TheRealCinderella: Nope. Not a C.

  Baller929: Okay then… *googling top 1000 girl names*

  Baller929: Is it Isabella?

  Baller929: Maria?

  Baller929: Hannah?

  Baller929: Emma?

  Baller929: This could go for a while, you know? Maybe you should just give up now and tell me :)

  TheRealCinderella: Nope, nope, nope, and nope. Why the sudden interest in my identity? Is the mystery driving you insane?

  Baller929: Because I’d like to know the name of the girl I talk to every day…the one who knows pretty much everything about me.

  His words stopped my heart in its tracks.

  What was that supposed to mean? That was the thing about chatting online. I could be reading something completely different into all of this than he meant.

  Baller929: What school do you go to then? Maybe it turns out we go to rival schools or something :) Maybe you’ve even seen me play and never realized it.

  TheRealCinderella: I seriously doubt that. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a basketball game.

  He sent a horrified emoji.

  Baller929: How are we friends???

  That’s a good question, I wanted to say. Instead…

  TheRealCinderella: You started talking to me, remember?

  It was true. We first met on an online student forum created by the state, back in the fall of sophomore year. The forum was for students to ask for help on homework, college apps, and that kind of thing. The idea was that we all studied the same curriculum and shared the same resources, so there were student volunteers, teachers, and counselors who answered questions and were there for support.

  As a National Honor Society member, I had volunteer hours to complete. Answering homework questions and tutoring other students online was the easiest thing for me to do since I wouldn’t have to ask my stepmom or stepsisters for a ride.

  Sophia was always adamant that she was too busy, and Courtney and Lindsay refused to give me a ride except on the rare occasion that it was a convenience to them, except for school in the mornings.

  My first day volunteering, I saw that Baller23 had posted a math question about solving a right triangle. The kind where you find missing side lengths. We’d just studied that in class, so I replied.

  Then he posted another question. And another. It must have been all the questions on his homework.

  I walked him through every one until it was time for dinner, and I made sure he hadn’t posted another one afterward.

  The next day, he’d sent me a private chat, thanking me. According to him, I’d saved his butt from getting benched at the first game of the season due to a failing geometry grade. He’d aced the quiz the next day. And the homework.

  I tutored him the whole year, and we became friends. We talked almost every day.

  First, it was math. Then it was his life. He faced a lot of pressure from his parents and his basketball coach. They all had big dreams for him, and all he ever did was practice or play basketball.

  Then he started asking about me.

  He quickly became my go-to friend, the one I went to when I had a bad day. He knew about my stepsisters, who I referred to as Anastasia and Drizella, just like in the original Disney movie. He knew about my stepmom too. And my dad. How much I missed him. r />
  My phone buzzed again.

  Baller929: True… if I told you the reason I changed my username, then would you tell me your real name? Or at least where you go to school? :)

  I thought about that, looking up from my phone.

  The rest of my class was getting up to leave, and I had to do the same.

  I sent one last message before putting my phone away.

  TheRealCinderella: I’ll think about it :)

  Would I have the courage to finally to tell him who I was?

  I wasn’t so sure. He was the only good thing I had in my life right now, and I couldn’t risk losing the last speck of light in my backward fairytale life.

  Three

  Computer class was my second favorite time of the school day because it was another chance to talk to Baller929. Plus, I just got computers. Being at the keyboard, writing code, helped me escape the rest of my life.

  I was usually the first one to finish my work for the day, and the teacher didn’t care what we did after that, as long as we didn’t get too rowdy.

  Tapping out a few last lines of code, I hit submit on my daily assignment and glanced around the room. Most people were still working, and the same guy that sat in front of me in math class was sleeping in here once again.

  Did that guy never get any sleep at home?

  I shook my head to myself, submitted the day’s assignment, and checked my phone. Baller929 was already online. He usually was because he knew this was one time I could talk, and we made the most of it. Basketball practices or games filled his evenings, so we didn’t usually get to talk until late.

  But for the next twelve minutes, it would just be me and him.

  TheRealCinderella: How’s math?

  Baller929: Boring. A mystery.

  I grinned.

  TheRealCinderella: No surprise there.

  Baller929: Ha. Ha. -_-

  Baller929: Seriously, though, I need your help. We’re going to have a quiz on this stuff tomorrow, and I get none of it.

  TheRealCinderella: 8 tonight?

  Before he replied, the intercom came on.

  “Ms. Roberts?” It sounded like the counselor.

  “Yes?” the teacher said, looking up from her computer.

  My eyes traveled back to the screen, but Baller929 hadn’t replied yet.

  “Can I see Daniela Reyes in my office, please? She should bring her things.”

  “She’s on her way.” Ms. Roberts was already back to whatever she was doing.

  “Thank you.” The intercom went silent.

  I looked around. No one else had paid any attention.

  Ms. Moreau wanted to see me?

  I logged off and grabbed my stuff.

  I slowly shut the classroom door behind me and walked to the counselor’s office. Muffled teacher voices reached my ears through the closed classroom doors.

  Finally, I reached Ms. Moreau’s office and walked in. I was surprised to see a few other eleventh grade girls in there.

  The four of them sat at a round conference table along with Ms. Moreau.

  “Ah, Ella. Welcome. Come have a seat.” She patted the empty chair next to her.

  I walked over, feeling everyone’s eyes on me.

  As I set my stuff next to my chair and sat down, I looked around the table. Ms. Moreau smiled at me, and I noticed she had on football earrings. She always wore weird jewelry or dresses. She was the kind of person who dressed up as a leprechaun for St. Patrick’s Day or as Mrs. Claus for Christmas.

  Beside her sat Tori, one of the most popular girls in school. Not to mention one of the top cheerleaders. She was busy staring at something on the wall and looking like she had better places to be.

  Next to Tori, Reyna doodled in a journal. I talked to her a lot last year when we had three classes together, but this year, we only had chemistry after lunch, and she sat across the room from me. Assigned seats.

  She offered a warm smile, which I returned. Dark purple eyeshadow made her hazel eyes pop. I hadn’t noticed because she was always scribbling in class, her face covered by her short hair, but I liked her new look. I counted her as one of the few truly nice people in this school.

  A familiar girl tapped her foot impatiently beside Reyna. I didn’t know her name, but I was pretty sure she was in my math class. What I did know was that she was tall, athletic, and just as beautiful as Tori. But in a more exotic way, whereas Tori was your classic beauty. And Rey was more like me. Quiet. She was pretty in her own way but hid behind a journal most of the time.

  The fourth girl I recognized from my government class. According to our teacher, she was new. Her full lips curved into a smile as our eyes met. She was blond like my stepsisters, but she definitely wasn’t a cheerleader.

  “Now that we have everyone here, let’s get started, shall we?” Ms. Moreau said, excitement in her voice.

  What exactly were we starting?

  Were we in trouble or something? Were we all missing a class we needed to graduate next year?

  “You must be wondering why you’re here,” Ms. Moreau said with a twinkle in her eye.

  Nobody responded, and the silence quickly turned palpable.

  Ms. Moreau didn’t seem to notice because she went on enthusiastically. “You’re all here because you’ve been chosen for a special project. A new student group.”

  She looked around at that moment, and I’m not sure what she was expecting, but it sure wasn’t excitement. Tori had her arms crossed, everyone appeared bored, and Rey stifled a yawn.

  I brainstormed ways to get out of this. I had a lot going on already with National Honor Society tutoring, getting ready for that tech competition, and my advanced classes.

  Yeah, that’s what I would tell her after this meeting was over.

  This couldn’t be any kind of requirement.

  “This new student group will serve as a peer support group. You will meet on a weekly basis here in my office and communicate with each other throughout the week.”

  The athletic girl next to Rey spoke up. “What does that mean exactly? And I’m not sure I’ll have time for this, Ms. Moreau. The soccer season is coming up, and team training has already started.”

  “All meetings will take place during the day, in place of your study hall time. Not the whole period. You’ll still have time to get some schoolwork out of the way. But the purpose of this group, Selena, will be to give you a support network. Friends. Someone to talk to, give you a shoulder to lean on during your high school journey. This is one of the most important and yet difficult times of your lives. And I think everyone here could use a friend.”

  Ms. Moreau looked at each of us slowly, and it felt like she was seeing inside me for a second. I shook off the feeling.

  “One can always use a friend, correct?” she said.

  No one said anything.

  “It’s my job to make sure you girls have the support you need. Academically, emotionally, and otherwise. I’m always here if you need to talk, but what better support can you get than someone who is on the same path as you? Going through the same things?”

  Rey looked down as she said that, and Tori exhaled. The blond girl just stared.

  I was with them. Every girl at this table could not have any less in common with each other.

  “I’ve spoken to all of your parents, and they agree this will be good for you.”

  I gawked at Ms. Moreau. Sophia had approved? She probably didn’t care as long as it didn’t require anything from her.

  “I’ve set up a private chat for you all on the student forum app. You’ll see a request to join in your inbox. For this week, your assignment is to get to know each other. Ask each other questions. Find out what you have in common. Then report to me next week during study hall. Same day.” Ms. Moreau smiled at each of us. “Okay?”

  When no one replied, she said, “Alrighty, let’s start by introducing ourselves.”

  By the time I got home, caught up on chores, and made dinner, all I could do wa
s crash into bed. Literally. It was only eight o’clock, but I still had homework to do.

  I let myself drift off for a few minutes until my phone buzzed. Eyes still closed, I dug it out of my pocket.

  I opened one eye and looked at the too bright screen. It was him.

  Yawning, I rolled over and read his text, wondering what he was up to.

  Baller929: Hey, you. You never messaged me back. Everything okay?

  TheRealCinderella: Sorry. Got called to the counselor’s office.

  Baller929: You in trouble or something? ;)

  TheRealCinderella: No! She wants me to join a peer support group, whatever that is. It’s a handful of girls I don’t really talk to, except one. I think she wants us to become friends, but I’m not sure how that’ll work out...

  I lay my head on my pillow and started drifting off again, knowing I should get my homework out. But after cleaning this morning’s mess in the kitchen, making dinner, mopping the entire first floor, and then doing laundry, I hardly had any energy left for school stuff.

  Sophia had made it clear after my dad had died that he hadn’t left much money. Supposedly, she’d used whatever he had left for the funeral and paying the bills during the time she wasn’t working.

  It had been six months before she went back to work after he died. She’d sent me back to school the next week.

  If I wanted her to pay for my college education, I was expected to earn my keep—do the chores around the house and be a volunteer for the events she organized from time to time. According to her, she’d have a hard enough time sending Courtney and Lindsay as it was.

  So that was why I tolerated the indifference all three of them usually had toward me. I didn’t have any other choice but rely on Sophia for college. And leave. Even then, I was sure she’d find a way to control me, no matter how far I went.

  My phone buzzed again, and this time, I did get up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

  I set up my books at my desk and grabbed my phone from my bed.

  Baller929: Support group? That sounds awkward.