Writing prompt: If the shoe fits...
My submission:
Yes, the shoes fit. They fit perfectly, and there’s no backing out now. You know, hindsight is 20-20 when you do something you regret. Always perfect 20-20 hindsight vision.
It seemed like fun at the time. I didn’t really give it much thought. No one was home. Dad was on a business trip. Everyone else, Stepmother and my stepsisters, had long since been done primping, powdering and perfuming. They had gone to the party down at the big house at the end of the street. Our house is pretty big, but the house, the one where the party was held, is the biggest and best on the block.
My chores were done. Thank God, she hadn’t really left that much for me to do. Oh, she thought she had. My heavy sighs fooled her. Do the dishes, sigh. Mop the floor, clean the toilets, etc., etc., sigh again. Clean the chimney... what? She laughed, just kidding. Sometimes she thought she was funny, giving me some chore that no one in the house normally would do. Then she would say, ‘Just kidding!’. Like she was soooo hilarious. Still, I kind of sighed, as if it was all too much and she patted me on the shoulder before she left like she knew she gave me too much. I fooled her, the work was done in thirty minutes. I’m fast when I want to be.
I wandered around the empty house. My stepsisters had left their bedrooms messy with discarded party clothes. I tried on various items. Wow, this one’s skirt with that one’s silky tank looked fantastic. The stepsisters usually looked alright. They weren’t unattractive, just so-so. Myself? I could care less about clothes. Jeans and tees are ok with me.
I left the skirt and tank on while I played with my hair in their bathroom. I used the big curling iron, then I used the little one. Then I sprayed the whole new ‘do with glittery spray. I applied some make up. I don’t use much every day, but I really like eyeliner for drama. I borrowed earrings from both sisters, I have that many holes in my ears to fill. I looked smashing, if I did say so myself.
What the hell, maybe I’ll crash. No one would notice me anyway, as is usually the case. When I arrived the music was loud enough to be heard outside. The party was in the back yard on the huge patio. Even better, it was kind of dark, less chance for Stepmother or the stepsisters to see me. I was just pouring some "hard" punch in a glass. I know I shouldn’t have, but I was feeling so different, what with the new look I had. I knew I looked older too. I turned to find a darker place to hang out and observe and there he was. Oh yeah, he was cute. Really cute. And very nice.
He looked at my glass and I gave it to him. Then I poured another for myself. We walked back to chairs along the house out of the lights strung around the patio. The punch loosened us both up and soon we were talking and laughing, and people watching. My stepsisters seemed intent on following his older cousin all around the party. I could tell Stepmother was encouraging them to do it. She really craved status and wealth for her girls. The older cousin was ‘really’ not my type. Thank goodness Stepmother never worried about who I should date.
After an hour or so, I left my new friend behind to get home before I was busted for being gone.
The next day he came to our house. The cousin. Stepmother was astounded when the envelope with the invitation had my name on it. She was also pissed. My stepsisters were pissed, too. If looks could kill, as the saying goes.
I was shaking my head no as Stepmother glared at me when the doorbell rang again. It was FedEx with a package. A box with shoes for one of the sisters. Both sisters reached for the box, kind of struggling against each other with it and began opening it on the entryway bench.
Long story short, I’m going out Friday night with my new friend’s cousin. It’s a dance and formal dress is required. Stepmother has never been so evilly nice to me since she moved in. The shoes were too small for my stepsisters and they fit me perfectly. Stepmother found a dress that match the shoes. Stepmother has decided it no longer really matters who helps her up the social ladder. I have no choice.
I’m going to the ball.
Yes, the shoes fit. They fit perfectly, and there’s no backing out now. You know, hindsight is 20-20 when you do something you regret. Always perfect 20-20 hindsight vision.
It seemed like fun at the time. I didn’t really give it much thought. No one was home. Dad was on a business trip. Everyone else, Stepmother and my stepsisters, had long since been done primping, powdering and perfuming. They had gone to the party down at the big house at the end of the street. Our house is pretty big, but the house, the one where the party was held, is the biggest and best on the block.
My chores were done. Thank God, she hadn’t really left that much for me to do. Oh, she thought she had. My heavy sighs fooled her. Do the dishes, sigh. Mop the floor, clean the toilets, etc., etc., sigh again. Clean the chimney... what? She laughed, just kidding. Sometimes she thought she was funny, giving me some chore that no one in the house normally would do. Then she would say, ‘Just kidding!’. Like she was soooo hilarious. Still, I kind of sighed, as if it was all too much and she patted me on the shoulder before she left like she knew she gave me too much. I fooled her, the work was done in thirty minutes. I’m fast when I want to be.
I wandered around the empty house. My stepsisters had left their bedrooms messy with discarded party clothes. I tried on various items. Wow, this one’s skirt with that one’s silky tank looked fantastic. The stepsisters usually looked alright. They weren’t unattractive, just so-so. Myself? I could care less about clothes. Jeans and tees are ok with me.
I left the skirt and tank on while I played with my hair in their bathroom. I used the big curling iron, then I used the little one. Then I sprayed the whole new ‘do with glittery spray. I applied some make up. I don’t use much every day, but I really like eyeliner for drama. I borrowed earrings from both sisters, I have that many holes in my ears to fill. I looked smashing, if I did say so myself.
What the hell, maybe I’ll crash. No one would notice me anyway, as is usually the case. When I arrived the music was loud enough to be heard outside. The party was in the back yard on the huge patio. Even better, it was kind of dark, less chance for Stepmother or the stepsisters to see me. I was just pouring some "hard" punch in a glass. I know I shouldn’t have, but I was feeling so different, what with the new look I had. I knew I looked older too. I turned to find a darker place to hang out and observe and there he was. Oh yeah, he was cute. Really cute. And very nice.
He looked at my glass and I gave it to him. Then I poured another for myself. We walked back to chairs along the house out of the lights strung around the patio. The punch loosened us both up and soon we were talking and laughing, and people watching. My stepsisters seemed intent on following his older cousin all around the party. I could tell Stepmother was encouraging them to do it. She really craved status and wealth for her girls. The older cousin was ‘really’ not my type. Thank goodness Stepmother never worried about who I should date.
After an hour or so, I left my new friend behind to get home before I was busted for being gone.
The next day he came to our house. The cousin. Stepmother was astounded when the envelope with the invitation had my name on it. She was also pissed. My stepsisters were pissed, too. If looks could kill, as the saying goes.
I was shaking my head no as Stepmother glared at me when the doorbell rang again. It was FedEx with a package. A box with shoes for one of the sisters. Both sisters reached for the box, kind of struggling against each other with it and began opening it on the entryway bench.
Long story short, I’m going out Friday night with my new friend’s cousin. It’s a dance and formal dress is required. Stepmother has never been so evilly nice to me since she moved in. The shoes were too small for my stepsisters and they fit me perfectly. Stepmother found a dress that match the shoes. Stepmother has decided it no longer really matters who helps her up the social ladder. I have no choice.
I’m going to the ball.