by,

Scribble, member of NOISE

It fit. The shoe fit.“It fits?” The Prince’s advisor cried in incredulity

“It fits?!” Cindy shrieked – almost shattering the slipper wrapped easily around my toes.

I could hold it in no longer. “IT FITS!” I cried, in a voice loud enough to rival Cindy’s wail. The dainty little slipper actually fit! Mother had always said I had delicate digits, even if the rest of me wasn’t quite as… elegant. I glanced around the room, wiggling my little toes against the smooth glass of the shoe. Veruca pulled her lips back in a snarl. Though she was clearly the more… elongated sister, she had duck feet. Mother was prancing up and down already, grinning like a jackal. If she thinks she’ll be living in the castle with my prince and I, she can think again – I smiled smugly to myself.

And then there was Cindy. Poor, meek little Cinderella. She had been industriously sweeping as we took turns slipping on the Prince’s shoe – clearly trying hard not to pay attention – but now she’d given up that act. She stood, simply glaring at me, her porcelain skin brightening with absolute fury. Though it fit, I’d never before seen that shoe in my entire life. Clearly, it was hers.

She thought I was an idiot – thought I wouldn’t recognise my own stepsister through a dress and tiara. Well, Veruca may have noodles for brains but I certainly didn’t. If anything, she should be thanking me, not wishing my head would turn to a pumpkin with her fierce stares. I could have unmasked her last night. I could have let mother rip off that phoney white dress and drag her off the ballroom floor by her hair – or worse, expose her as spoiled, shrieking, snivelling servant-girl she was and let the Prince dispose of her, but I didn’t. I let her have her night of fun while we helplessly looked on, didn’t I? I let her prance across the ballroom floor in the Prince’s arms all evening, without so much as a murmur of complaint, didn’t I? She was the ungrateful runt that ran away before the party even got started. That’s not my problem. Besides, it’s not like the Prince really cared about her. Did she honestly think that after she stormed out he sat alone, dreaming only of her? He must have whisked ten, maybe twenty floozies across the dance floor after she left. He didn’t even remember what she looked like! Men really are such idiots – he only wants her because he can’t have her anyway. She should know that. Besides – making every woman in the country try on a shoe to choose a bride? He must have known our Cindy’s not the only size five in the land. Maybe it’s just her feet he wanted… Men enjoy all kinds of peculiar pastimes nowadays. Not that that bothers me. After all – I am the new queen. Mrs… eh, Prince. That’s me now, and not even stunning, shrieky little Cinderella could change that. I gazed at my Prince… wonderful, chiselled features contorted in some sort of terrified silent scream. That was alright. I would grow on him. In time. “N-n-no!” Cindy cried – or rather – roared. “It’s mine!” She swept across the room, knocking mother over with her broom as she went, and with one fell movement yanked the slipper from my foot. It slipped off more gracefully than Cindy had expected. Her brute force sent the delicate little pump coursing through the air, over the Prince’s shoulder. He barely moved, the adorable imbecile was still in a state of motionless shock as he gazed upon the face of his bride-to-be. Meek little Cindy must be stronger than we realised – with a sharp but musical crash, the slipper hammered into the nearby wall and shattered, shards of glass reflecting the sunlight and throwing thousands of tiny rainbows against Cinderella’s livid face. We formed a semi circle around the shattered glass of the slipper: Veruca, Mother, Cindy, the Prince, his little pack of servants and advisors, and me. For a moment, there was silence. “Well…” Mother addressed Ella gingerly, breaking the streams of all our thoughts. “Aren’t you going to clean that up?” Cindy’s face – no longer bright with rage or light with dozens of rainbows, was now puce. She bared her perfect white teeth and bored her wide blue eyes into my skull. She looked positively ugly. “YOU!!” She let out a war cry that would put the most barbaric warrior to shame and lunged across the room at me like a, well, like some kind of bear in petticoats. Sparkling blonde hair dishevelled, she kicked and fought and bit me. Yes, the girl actually bit me! “You – hideous – ungrateful – selfish – SWINE!!” She squawked between lethal bashings. “That – pea brained – Prince – was – my – ticket – OUT OF HERE!” “I didn’t smash the shoe!!” I yelled, pulling out a clump of her glossy locks. “It might have fit you too, but we’ll never know now will we?” “Of – course – it – fit – me!” she snapped, slapping me. I was beginning to wonder if the others had gone to make tea or were merely gawking at our brawl. “It was my shoe!” “Girls, GIRLS!” I heard mother’s shrill voice cry as Veruca yanked us up off the glass covered floor. “W-where’s the Prince?” I panted. The room was empty but for us four. “You scared him off!” Veruca snickered. Cinderella and I shared a brief glance. Far from her usually mild and ravishing self, Cindy’s face was purple, one eye swollen shut by a particularly well thrown punch (I remembered to thank myself for that one later), her hair was actually stained with blood and… was that a missing tooth? “What are you waiting for Minerva CHASE HIM!” Mother pealed. I thought. I may be the ugly stepsister, but there was no way I looked any worse than Cinderella did right now. Gathering up my fuchsia skirts and with a well timed elbow in Cindy’s jaw (another gap couldn’t hurt my chances) we ran. He signed a binding contract, and I’d get my hands on that Prince if I had to put him in a headlock. After all, if the shoe fits…