Cinderella Reimagined Read online

  “How about this,” Danielle said, stepping between Amy and Kayla. “You move in with us, Amy allows you to have your own line, and I get to buy us all new shoes to celebrate?”

  Kayla wasn’t sure it would work. Amy was stubborn…

  “Very well. You win, Danielle.”

  It felt like her eyes were about to pop out.

  “Kayla?”

  She caught a glimpse of the newspaper at her feet. The woman in the photo was staring up at her. She was everything Kayla wanted to be: confident, elegant – the real Kayla Castillo.

  She nodded, then felt warmth flood her cheeks.

  “May I perhaps get two pairs? I, uh, lost one of my shoes last night…”

  Her sisters were still laughing as they entered the shoe store Kayla had visited just a few days earlier.

  “You’re back,” the saleslady who’d helped her the previous time greeted with a smile. “How can I help you today?”

  Kayla didn’t know how to phrase her request.

  “She’d like another pair of the shoes you sold her,” Danielle answered.

  “I’m sorry.” The saleslady looked as if in pain. “They all sold out during the first hour of business this morning. Even the display pair. Seeing you in them caused a buying frenzy.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  Danielle giggled at Amy’s concerned expression. Even Kayla found it slightly amusing. And a bit disconcerting.

  “Perhaps I can help?” a familiar voice asked.

  Kayla turned around. Kieran stood there, dressed in a blue long-sleeved shirt and jeans. He had a shadow beard and his hair still looked tumbled.

  “I found this shoe…” He held it out to her. “It was all that was left of a wonderful night. Its owner disappeared without a word at dawn.” He looked at her reproachfully.

  Kayla swallowed, her mouth was suddenly dry.

  “At least now we don’t have to scour the globe for a replacement pair,” Amy said, stopping a magical cocoon from forming. “Aren’t you going to introduce us, Sister?”

  Kayla felt a jolt of pleasure.

  “Amy, Danielle – this is Kieran. Kieran, meet my sisters.”

  It felt good to introduce them as her sisters.

  “How ‘bout I take you all out to lunch?” he suggested.

  “Sure,” Danielle said. “Shoe shopping can wait until tomorrow.”

  Kayla couldn’t stop smiling. She knew that no matter what happened next, she had her sisters. And perhaps even Kieran…

  The Tribulations of James the Second

  by Liz Kellebrew

  Once upon a time, there was a boy who lived with his parents and two sisters in a midsize town by a muddy river. He was his parents’ second child, and his name was James.

  Because he was the middle child, no one paid much attention to him except to scold him (which his parents did), or to blame him for something (which his sisters did). Because he was the only boy child, the greater share of unfavorable chores came to him as well: picking up the dog’s poop, taking out the garbage, scrubbing the toilets and bathtubs, chopping and stacking firewood, mowing the lawn, raking leaves, and shoveling snow, depending on the seasons. He also had to go with his father and help load and unload the pickup with refuse for the dump twice a year, and every time he went he thought of all the disgusting things the seagulls were eating out of the landfill and he felt sad that there were no fresh fish in the muddy river for them to eat.

  Also as a result of being the middle boy child, when he wasn’t being picked on or singled out for menial chores, he felt very left out of the household goings-on. His sisters and their friends didn’t want him around, and his mom and dad were always too busy working to spend time with him. The boys in the neighborhood were vile beings who delighted in torturing animals, beating each other up, and playing pointless, unimaginative games with balls and sticks, so James kept mostly to himself.

  He liked to read and he liked to knit. Most of all, he liked to try on his sisters’ dresses and play tea party alone with his GI Joes and a couple of Barbies pilfered from his sisters’ room. They had philosophical debates over Earl Grey and crumpets, and asked each other what made them so different after all? They were all human where it counted.

  When James was 11, his father saw him choose a female avatar for World of Warcraft.

  James’ father raised his eyebrows. “Why would you want to be a girl?” he asked.

  James didn’t respond. He usually chose female avatars, but now that he sensed his father’s disapproval, he thought it best to say nothing.

  Later that night, he lay in bed wondering what it would be like to have breasts. They were beautiful, he thought. He would like to be beautiful. His sisters were already talking about how they couldn’t wait for theirs to grow in.

  James felt a twinge of jealousy that ached in his throat.

  In his first year of junior high, James met Lori. She was in her last year of junior high, a foot taller than James, and liked to wear leather jackets and boots with thick soles. Unlike most girls his age, Lori actually seemed to like James. They both loved Anne Rice novels and wearing black lipstick, and Lori asked James if he was going to the homecoming dance.

  James shrugged. The truth was, the very thought of walking into a place full of strangers pairing up like a bunch of love-struck parakeets made him want to vomit.

  “I’ll be honest,” Lori said, “I’ve never gone before, but now that it’s my last year, I want to go. Will you come with me?”

  “Me? Your date?” James asked, blinking.

  “Well, no. More like a friend,” Lori said.

  Relieved, James agreed. But he still had a concern. “What about my sister?” Bethany was a year ahead of him and already making his junior high experience impossible.

  “What about her?” Lori rolled her eyes. “You scared of her or something?”

  “No. It’s just… I’ll feel better if she doesn’t know I’m there.”

  “Well, don’t worry. I’ve heard it’s dark and crowded at these things anyway. And you can wear a disguise.”

  A sly grin broke out on James’ face.

  “I can tell you’ve got an idea already,” Lori said.

  The night of homecoming, James told his family that he was going to Lori’s house to study. His father slipped him a condom at the door. “Keep that in your wallet,” he winked, “just in case.”

  James mumbled a thank-you and ducked outside.

  At Lori’s house, she helped James with his makeup and loaned him a pair of heels. They both wore long velvet dresses with plunging necklines, faux pearls, and opera gloves. James achieved a convincing bosom effect with the aid of duct tape, and in his red velvet next to Lori’s purple gown, any casual passerby would have seen two teenage girls dressed for a formal event.

  James’ finishing touch was a long blonde wig held in place with a rhinestone tiara that he and Lori had found together at a costume shop. He felt like Cinderella.

  At the homecoming dance, James and Lori had their pictures taken together. When they walked into the gymnasium, some of the boys turned their heads to watch as he and Lori walked by. They even danced with boys, James thrilling to the music and the heat of tentative kisses planted on his gloved hand. Maybe he’d finally reached an age where the other boys had matured to his level.

  In the whirlwind of shadowy bodies and bright lights, James forgot to worry about his sister Bethany. He danced part of a song with a big blonde jock that, unbeknownst to him, was in Bethany’s science class.

  Bethany was trying to get the jock’s attention when she saw her brother. “James? Is that you?”

  “Who?” the jock asked, frowning.

  “My brother,” she said, incredulous.

  James gathered up his skirts to run, but it was too late. The jock yanked James’ wig and tiara from his head and shouted, “He’s a boy!”

  Mortified, James ran for all he was worth, away from the crowds and sneers and laughter, out into the cold autu
mn air in his sleeveless gown. Lori caught up to him and wrapped his coat around his shoulders.

  “Don’t listen to them,” she said. “They’re jerks.” She walked him to her place and he rolled up his dress, washed off the makeup, and returned Lori’s shoes.

  By the time he got home, his sister had told on him. James was grounded indefinitely, and he also had to see a shrink who happened to go to his parents’ church. Combined with the shaming glares of his classmates and sisters, this only made things worse. James spent more time than ever playing World of Warcraft.

  One afternoon, in the few small hours between coming home from school and his parents getting home from work, James heard the doorbell ring.

  “I’ll get it,” Bethany called. A few minutes later, she knocked on James’ bedroom door. “He says he’s your friend,” she said, sounding confused.

  James opened the door. He recognized the dark-haired Latino boy from homecoming. They’d shared a dance together.

  James blushed furiously and ushered the boy in, glaring at Bethany before slamming the door in her face.

  “What do you want?” he demanded.

  “I think this is yours,” the boy said, handing James a rhinestone tiara. “I’m Manuel.”

  “Thanks,” James said. “I’m James.”

  “I know,” Manuel smiled. “Lori told me.”

  James kicked a dirty sock on the carpet. “Oh.”

  Manuel shoved his hands in his pockets. “How come you’re sitting inside? It’s really nice out.”

  “I’m grounded,” James admitted.

  “What for?” Manuel asked.

  James told him, and Manuel laughed. “Seriously? That’s it?”

  James shrugged and looked down. “I’m not normal.”

  “Hey,” Manuel said. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

  James finally met Manuel’s eyes. They were like autumn leaves shot through with sunlight.

  “So, there’s a new arcade over on Spring Street. Wanna come with?”

  “Sure.” James grinned and grabbed his coat.

  City of Magic

  by ANNA JAILENE AGUILAR

  The day was proving to be a little too much for Elizabeth’s exhausted mind. Her body may not be overly tired but the lack of sleep caused by stress wasn’t helping. She suspected that it would be wise for her to learn to say no. Why she was determined to play martyr was a mystery.

  She wasn’t delusional about the year being a tough one. Falling, getting back up and dusting oneself off several times can’t possibly be easy for anyone.

  She recalled the beginning of the year, full of promise and hope. She had planned to accomplish so much. The year seemed to have flown by without her being fully aware of it. She couldn’t even see if she achieved anything significant.

  She could almost touch the feeling of disappointment, restlessness and melancholy. She badly needed to shake off the negativity that had taken residence in her being.

  This was not the time for idealism.

  This was a time to treat herself to her favorite pamper place. It always magically brought calm and comfort to her world.

  Elizabeth entered the serene day spa hoping for a miracle. It is a known fact to spa-goers that advance booking is essential but this was an emergency. She was in dire need of some pampering.

  As soft as the soothing music that played in the background, the receptionist informed her that they had some cancellations and would be able to do all the treatments for her.

  Deep facial, full body massage and deluxe manicure and pedicure later, Elizabeth felt like a brand new person as she walked out of the building. Suddenly, the sun seemed too bright. The Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses she wore were a compulsory accessory right then.

  Another brilliant idea presented itself as she drove out into the main road. She was going to the mall for some retail therapy. Her friends would agree that spending her hard-earned cash on retail therapy was more rewarding than seeing the Psychologist. She promised that Jimmy Choo was all she was going to look at.

  Inside the lovely minimalist Jimmy Choo store in Sandton City, Elizabeth was holding a pair of sandals, looking at them admiringly. “For the price, these should be able to transport me to Paris and back.” She chuckled. “Actually, I should probably buy a plane ticket instead.” She paused to think for a second. “Hmm, maybe not.”

  “May I?” Elizabeth looked up to gaze upon a handsome face of a stranger. He was smiling.

  He looks like a fairy tale Prince Charming, she thought. Oh my goodness! What a gorgeous smile. What regal good looks. Ooh, and I can only imagine how that body must be built like Ryan Gosling’s photo-shopped hot bod in Crazy, Stupid, Love.

  “Do sit down,” he repeated, looking at her fixedly. She had not heard him the first time.

  “Elizabeth,” she said. She wasn’t sure if he was asking for her name.

  “Do please sit down, Elizabeth.” He was effortlessly and completely at ease with not even a slight hint of arrogance. “I’m Andrew.” His eyes were twinkling. It looked as though the smile could turn into a joyful laugh at any time.

  On the contrary, she was dumbfounded. She did manage to sit down on the couch but remained incapable of conversation. She was perplexed and chose to say nothing.

  Is he the shop owner or the shop owner’s son? Where did he come from? Elizabeth’s conversation with herself continued. Nothing exciting happens to her so she was convincing herself that he was there merely to do his job.

  He held the shoes as he knelt in front of her to help her try them on. They were the perfect fit. He then offered his hand, as if she was unable to stand up on her own. She was mesmerized as his hand touched her hand.

  “I’d love to take you to Paris,” he said casually as they walked towards the full-length mirror. There was a moment of silence as he looked at her image on the mirror. He was captivated. Recovering, he continued, “And please let me pay for these beautiful shoes. They look exceptionally beautiful, much better on your feet.”

  Perfect timing for the pedicure, she told herself just before she managed to collect her wits.

  “Oh no, you won’t,” she said to him with a protest. “I can afford my own shoes.” Although that could mean no ticket to Paris, she thought. “And Paris can wait,” she added.

  “Oh, I know you can afford them,” he said, his eyes dancing. “That’s why I would like to pay for them. I refuse to spend my money on those who purposely get men to buy them stuff. You know, almost manipulatively. I dislike gold-diggers,” he clarified. “And, I’m serious about Paris.”

  She had a quizzical look on her face.

  He chuckled. “I’m a good person. And for your peace of mind, I’m going to pay for this perfect pair with my card.” He pulled out a black Investec card and held it out for her to see. “Okay?”

  “No, thank you. Really!” There was no way she could accept such an expensive gift from a stranger. And why does he want to buy these shoes for me? She debated with herself.

  “You don’t have to decide now. Think about it,” he said, reassuringly. “About Paris, I mean. Jimmy Choo now is non-negotiable.”

  He convincingly charmed the cashier to swipe his card and the transaction was finalized despite her objections. She was handed her new treasure.

  “I don’t know what to say,” she finally said. She could have gotten angry and called him audacious and presumptuous but he did not come across as unpleasant or overbearing. “Thank you. This is crazy, but thank you. It feels like I’m being punk’d.” She laughed nervously.

  “That’s a possibility.” He teased, giving her his dazzling smile. “Here are my contact details,” he said as he handed her his business card. “I hope you’ll use them. When you’re ready, of course. You’ll call me? We can start with dinner.”

  He took her hand and kissed it lightly. “I hope to hear from you… soon?”

  He walked out of the store.

  The shop assistants’ shocked looks were replaced
by grins.

  She stood there thinking about the kiss on her hand. She had not forgotten the gift. Surely, no one would forget a gift of Jimmy Choo sandals. The kiss on her hand, however, was totally unexpected.

  She decided he was a perfect combination of old-fashioned and contemporary, if possible. She will have to give him a call.

  The Chariot’s Chagrin

  by Nausheen Athar

  Darn the wily old godmother who flicks a wand and expects me to turn into a chariot to take some silly weepy lass to a lame old ball, along with a bunch of filthy animals dressed in fancy tailcoats. Of all the ignominies, she makes rats and mice into coachmen and horses and then happily packs me off with those assassins.

  We owe her, she says, and all because she promised to protect my patch from that greedy avaricious no-good Peter. Quid pro quo, she calls it. Huh, can’t even expect a fairy to do a good deed without demanding something in return!

  Did she even once stop to think what is to befall me if the darling princess loses track of time and misses her deadline? Everyone else gets to scamper off, but I’m left there to be devoured or even worse, become road-kill. But no! Why bother about the voiceless squash?

  Just let the clock strike twelve, and if I don’t spill my innards all over her precious Cinderella, you can hand me over to that wife-beating pumpkin-eater or carve me up into a Jack-O-Lantern and I won’t even spit a seed.

  Cinderella and her Diamond Heels

  by Amanda M. Eifert

  Cinderella could feel her back begin to ache as she washed the filthy floors by hand. The mansion she now cleaned had been her father’s mansion before her stepmother poisoned his tea. Her stepmother had convinced her father’s previous solicitors that Cinderella was too young to take care of the mansion at twelve-years-old. The vile woman had claimed Cinderella’s home for herself and her two spoiled daughters, Giselle and Monique. Cinderella wouldn’t legally be able to have the mansion back until she was married or twenty-five-years-old. She knew her stepmother wanted to keep her as a servant and she would never be allowed to marry. Her only hope was to be able to have enough money to afford the solicitor her stepmother had offended.