Not Your Cinderella

“You are sure about this right B?” Dad asks. His hair sits a brown messy mop upon his head, he straightens his glasses as if the adjustment of the spectacles will help him to analyse my reaction better. His deep brown eyes scream concern at me, and with the glasses magnifying his already large eyes I can’t help but feel his gaze burning into my retinas.

“Honestly Dad, I promise I’m going to be fine,” I pick up his briefcase which had been strewn to the side of him when he decided to pull me in to a hug that I’m certain crushed at least one of my lungs. He gratefully accepted it before clutching it deeply at his chest.

Opening his mouth in an attempt to get another excuse out to stay I made sure to quickly halt him with some of my own.

“Don’t forget these conventions are really important,” I argued which seemed to just cause his eyebrows to knit together into a frown, “It’s not the first time I have been left for them as well.” I tried to shoot him a reassuring smile but his brows seemed very firm in their position of discomfort.

“You did have Leo with you those times Berry.”

I cringe at the childhood nickname he had compassed for me. Originating from the original “Rowan Berry” which he still liked to pull out now and then, to the more recent further shortening of the name to B.

“Yes,” I nod whilst folding my arms signalling to him that I’m not finished, “But Leo was looking after me from this age. I’m 17 and honestly, we both know I’m a lot less useless than him. And,” I continue, “He is coming back anyway.”

Dad’s face finally crumples into a smile as he releases a chuckle, “That’s fair,” he says, “You know I would take you?”

“I know dad, but,” I say about to use the line he had been chanting at me for the past month, “I have school and an education to attend.”

“Yes you do,” he laughs, “call me if you need anything okay?”

I pull out my phone and shake it under his nose as evidence that I intend to. He smacks it playfully away, knowing full well that he’s being over-protective.

“I promise I’ll be home soon, and by soon-“

“I know dad, I know,” I giggle, knowing I’m going to have to shoo him out of the door or else he will never leave. He sticks his pinkie out to me and although I know that it’s childish, I interlink my own with his. He lets out a grin and pulls our hands down with enough force to pull them apart. He runs his fingers through his messy brown mop for hair before opening the door and at last leaving the property.

“You better stay in one piece,” I should as he walks down the drive. He mockingly salutes me before turning back around and finishing his journey to the car. Opening the door, he slides his brief case onto the passenger seat before stopping momentarily as if he has forgotten something.

“Don’t forget that Pat is also just a call away,” He shouts back.

I wave my phone again in his direction, “I know.”

“And-“

“Dad, please stop worrying, I’m going to be just fine.”

“Okay, okay,” He says putting his hands in air as if he’s under arrest, “I just want you to be careful whilst I’m not here.”

“Yes sir,” I tease, mirroring his earlier salute.

I watch as Dad gets into the car before shutting the door behind himself. He straps himself in and places his hands on the wheel. The engine starts and slowly he reverses off the drive. As the car makes its way down the street, I see a hand from within waving at me. Returning the gesture, I continue to watch until the car is out of sight.

I slip back inside shutting the front door and locking it. Out of paranoia I check the handle three times to ensure that I had indeed successfully locked it. Heading into the kitchen I grab a glass from the cupboard and fill it with the carton of orange juice I had forgotten to return to the fridge earlier, which, had been sat on the side patiently waiting for me to remember it. Although not as satisfying as crisp cold juice straight from the fridge the sweet drink clenched my first and before long the glass was empty once more. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand I steal a glance of the clock finding the time to be 11:15. Feeling tiredness tugging at my eyelids I decide to call it a night.

Slowly, I pad upstairs, and make my way to my room. The light blue walls greet me as I enter and immediately my bed is calling me. Pushing away the voice telling me to just go to sleep right there and then fully dressed I make my way to the bathroom where I find the joggers and vest top I had left on the floor this morning. Changing into the items of clothing as quickly as possible I finish my night time look by pulling my dark locks into a messy bun. I squirt a copious amount of toothpaste onto my toothbrush and tip my 2-minute hourglass before beginning to brush my teeth. Dad had bought both Leo and I one when we were little as he was convinced that we were not brushing our teeth for a long enough time. Using the tiny hourglass had just become a habit of mine, I am certain Leo threw his away years ago. Noticing that the last of the sand has trickled down into the bottom segment I spit out the excess toothpaste in my mouth before having to wash my face to rid myself of the white smudge around my mouth which I have managed to achieve. Patting my face dry I sling my towel back onto the rail and leave the bathroom going back to my room.

As I do every night I have the struggle of coordinating turning off my bedroom light and turning on my phone torch so that I can navigate my way to my bed in the dark, as I never remember to turn on my bedside light before doing so. Once safely in the confines of my bed I pull my covers up so that they lie just under my chin before wrapping the right-hand side under so that I can hug it. I love the feeling of being cosy and that mixed with exhaustion means sleep takes over my body quickly.

*

*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*

At first, I think that the furious knocking is part of my dream. Attempting to ignore it I try to snuggle further under my quilt, but the sound won’t leave me alone. It seems to somehow just get louder until I’m unable to think about anything else aside from whatever is creating such a disturbance. My eyes snap open and it dawns on me that it’s coming from my front door. With a growl I swing my legs over the side of my bed and stand up. Like a new-born horse who cannot quite walk properly I stumble my way downstairs. Dad and Leo always laughed at my inability to function when under the influence of tiredness.

By the time I get downstairs the knocking is worse than furious: apoplectic. My hands rub furiously at my eyes, trying to force away the fog that having just woken up has created. I slide my hand across the wall until eventually finding the light switch, shedding some light on the situation. Still, the racket continues.

"Jesus,” I mutter to myself as I retrieve the keys to the door from the counter in the kitchen.

It takes me a couple attempts and some cursing to get the key into the lock, I let out a disgruntled sigh before turning it and opening the door.

“Alex?”

Every school has its own popular boy, and here he is on my doorstep is Chippenham’s very own. My eyes fall to the object in his hand – a purple converse. Confused, I look back up and notice his two right hand men Spencer and Liam stood dutifully behind him with smirks freely dressing their faces.

"You have to try this on," Alex slurs, practically shoving the shoe in question under my nose. The smell of alcohol pours its way into my house and I can almost make out each drink they have evidently been partaking in.

"No," I shake my head at him and shut the door.

As soon as the door clicks to signal the fact its closed the knocking begins again. I lean my forehead against the wall, exasperated and just wanting to be able to head back to bed. Opening the door once more the three are stood wearing the exact same facial expressions as if I had never said no or shut the door in their face. Before I have time to say anything the shoe in question is being waved in my face.

“Hey, cut it out,” I hiss, batting the footwear away.

"Look, he's beyond drunk, it could be a lot worse than a shoe," Spencer pipes up, using a smile to try and reason with me. The golden boy with the grades and looks to fit his title is Spencer Adams. His blonde ringlets stand out against the darkness outside giving him an almost ethereal aura, furthered by his large cerulean eyes.

"Trust us we have already gone to 5 houses with this shoe," Liam chuckles, slapping his friend on the back. Alex, not particularly steady on his feet wobbles forward precariously. My arms shoot out in front of me and I steady him.

"Its fine,” Alex shrugs carelessly, dragging out his words, “Before you know it everyone will be going around doing this.”

“If I try it on will you please leave?” I ask, not masking the irritable tone in my voice. I emphasise leave by gesturing towards the street to which Spencer chuckles.

Alex responds by miming crossing his heart with his trademark smirk morphing onto his face.

The drunken boy currently in my doorway stands at least a foot above me. I knew from my parents that Alex was part Italian. His olive skin tone was matched with dark hair which was always casually tussled. His eyes were the colour of deep mahogany almost constantly accompanied by a mischievous glint, mirroring his smirk. Alex and I had been neighbours since he had moved next door when I was seven. Same street, just feet apart and yet we live in completely separate worlds.

With some vigour I snatch the converse out of his hand, anxious to be left alone once more. I look down at my fluffy cat socks and pray that in the poor light and with their sight somewhat ruined by alcohol, my visitors won’t notice. Pulling the shoe onto my foot I ensure to send a ruthless glare to the two individuals stood behind Alex, who had helped him and obviously guided him here. I wait for the shoe to fall off my abnormally small foot, but it stays put.

It’s a perfect fit.

"Seems you found your Cinderella," Liam chuckles with a daring wink in my direction. I narrow my eyes at him, not finding his comment entertaining.

“What a catch Alex. She is a really fun, happy, lively one.”

"I am no one’s Cinderella," I snap, yanking the shoe off my foot as if it was burning me, and shoving it into Alex's chest, “I’m not your Cinderella, and more than one person can have the same shoe size!”

I push Alex out of my doorway and slam the door shut. My breathing is heavy, and I find myself sat with my back against the door. Reminding myself that I am just being paranoid I use my hands to push myself back into a standing position before locking the door once more. Throwing the keys back at the counter I make my way back to bed where I am riddled with thoughts preventing sleep from taking over me. I consoled myself with the fact that there’s no way any of them would remember the ordeal of tonight by tomorrow, the alcohol would be sure to soak away any memories of the encounter. I just know that I’m not his Cinderella, and I never will be.