Cinderella is the Evil Stepsister

You know my sister, Cindy. Or rather, now that she’s a big shot in the palace, you probably know her by her full name - Cinderella.

I say “sister” instead of “step-sister” because that’s what I’ve always viewed her as, blood relation or not. Cindy has been in my life for as long as I can remember; in fact, one of my very earliest memories is of the wedding between my mother and her father. I cried the whole time. Not because I disliked her father, but because Cindy told me I was a bad luck charm. I was three years old, and she convinced me that three was a bad number; she told me their marriage would be doomed if I participated as one of the flower girls. My older sister, painfully shy, refused to join in without me by her side. So in the end, Cindy got what she wanted - to have all eyes on her, just her, as she tossed the petals down the aisle.

Surprising, right? Well, I’m not surprised that you’re surprised. Cindy made it her top priority to make sure the kingdom saw the version of her that she created; the poor, helpless, mistreated girl with a heart of gold that I’m sure you’ve heard about. I hate to break it to you, but it’s all a lie. Well…almost all of it.

My name is Drizella Tremaine, and I’m here to set the record straight.

PART ONE - The Orphan Girl Turned Scullery Maid

They say the best lies have an element of truth, and maybe that’s why Cindy has been so convincing. She paints a portrait of herself being an orphan, forced to do the chores and bidding of her stepfamily after the death of her father. I guess, technically speaking, that is kind of true. But let me explain.

The death of Cindy’s father was sudden and unexpected. I grieved along with her when it happened; I had lost two fathers before I was even a teen. His job as a traveling salesman had afforded us a comfortable life in a large home on a respectable plot of land, and before he died we had plenty of hired hands helping to maintain the household. After he passed, he left my mother with a sizable, but finite, amount of cash.

My poor mother had been sickly her whole life. Although she had talent with embroidery, enough to make a little side money off her pieces, her physical health left her unable to hold any sort of full time job. And yet, even though the house and land were worth something, she refused to let them go - partly because it was the home she and my father had built together, and partly because of the status it provided to our family. Sure, money was important, but reputation and social standing could get you more opportunities. And so she made the decision that no matter what, we were keeping the house; even if it meant we couldn’t afford the hired workers anymore and had to start doing the maintenance and chores ourselves.

Cindy had been livid when her father’s will was read. I don’t know where she got the idea from, but somehow she was convinced he would simply leave everything to her. If he had, I’m sure she would have left the three of us by the wayside, laughing on her way out. Even though we tried our best to incorporate her into our little family, it was clear she never much cared for us. I don’t think she ever really accepted the fact she was no longer an only child, and she certainly resented my mother for stealing away some of her father’s attention.

But of course, my stepfather left everything to my mom; why would a barely-tween girl be handed over the deed to a mansion, anyway? It seemed so obvious, even to me in my relatively young age, yet somehow this was a shock to Cindy. She felt it added insult to injury when my mother broke the news that we could no longer afford the staff, and that we would have to start taking care of the place ourselves.

No, Cindy didn’t take too well to this approach, insisting that we had money, so why did she have to help clean and cook and take care of the animals? She could never quite grasp the idea that what her father left behind would have to support all four of us until we girls were old enough to find steady work, or marry. Which meant we had to be careful with every dollar from then on out if we wanted to make it last.

Here’s where a grain of truth gets stretched so far out of shape it's barely recognizable anymore. Cindy would have you believe all she ever did was clean the house, and in a way it’s true. She only ever cleaned the house, when it came to the chores. Because of all the things that had to get done, Cindy was only ever willing to do the least difficult, the least inconvenient of tasks.

While I was shoveling muck out of the horse barn and getting attacked by flies, she was inside polishing spoons. When Anastasia walked two miles to the market in the scorching sun for groceries, Cindy was waltzing around the house with a featherdust, only bothering to clean things that were easily in her reach. And when my mother worked late into the evening on a sewing project despite her illness, Cindy would be whining about the fact she had to put away the dishes of a meal that had been prepared by someone else.

Yeah. Poor Cindy.

PART TWO - Invitation to the Ball

Cindy didn’t even want to go to the ball.

When Mother first heard word about the occasion, she sat all three of us down and told us how important it was for us to go and make a good impression. I don’t know if my sisters read between the lines like I did, but I could see the implication there: the fastest and most likely way for our family to be pulled out of our near-squalor was for at least one of us to marry into a good family. And even if things didn’t work out with the Prince, there would be plenty of other eligible noblemen in attendance as well...

The ball wasn’t advertised as a wife search for the Prince, but the rumors were there. I doubt Cindy ever paid attention to the whispers between other women as we strolled through the market, but I sure did; and my mother always had a way of finding out the latest gossip, despite her failing health keeping her in bed most days. But to Cindy, this was just another stuffy court event she was being forced to attend.

“Why do I have to go?” I remember her whining as she crossed her arms and huffed. She never liked being told what to do, but I still couldn’t believe she would pass on this opportunity. A small flicker of hope burned inside me as I waited for my mother’s reaction.

There was a stare off. On one hand, Mother knew it was an important opportunity for us as eligible young ladies to be seen by the court. On the other hand…she knew how Cindy would behave if forced to do something she didn’t want to do. Besides, it was uncertain if she would help our family even if she did manage to find herself a husband who could put up with her…

“Fine…” my mother said after a long pause. “You don’t have to go. But Anastasia, Drizella, please. I ask you to take this seriously.”

Anastasia gave an obedient nod, even though I knew she was nervous to dance with the handsome young men of the court. I, on the other hand, had to stop myself from jumping on the table with joy.

I was going to the ball, and Cindy wouldn’t be there to mess things up for me.

Though I never would have admitted it to anyone at the time…I was already in love with the Prince. I had met him on a few occasions when the lower nobility had been invited to the castle. My first real encounter with him was at his sixteenth birthday party. Despite being almost exactly the same age - my own sixteenth birthday was just a few days later - I had never seen the Prince as being on the same plane as me. From afar, all of the Royals seemed too perfect, almost godlike. But that night, I got to see him up close for the very first time; and while he did still seem perfect - handsome, with an amazing smile - he did also just look like…a boy. One you could have an amazing conversation with, one who could sail you around the dancefloor with ease, one who you could have fun with even if you weren’t doing anything at all…

Each family had an opportunity to approach the Prince to wish him a happy birthday. I made the mistake of not paying attention to who I walked in front of, and had the misfortune of that person being Cindy. As my eyes locked on to the Prince’s, I began to smile and put my foot backward to curtsey…only to feel Cindy’s ankle wrap around mine and pull, which pushed my body forwards.

I looked up in horror as a pair of strong arms broke my fall. Mortified, I didn’t think I could look the Prince in the eyes; but as I found his face, I realized he had a genuine look of concern as he helped me to my feet.

“Are you okay, miss?” he said kindly, no hint of mockery or annoyance in his voice. I flushed, even though he gave me no reason to feel like I should be embarrassed. Thanks to the long dresses, Cindy’s foot was covered from view; it looked like I simply tripped to everyone else.

I should have been angry, but the Prince still held my arms as he waited for my answer. Maybe I should have thanked her…

“Y-yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry for…um…” I stumbled, struggling to find my words.

The Prince’s smile only grew as he pulled away, satisfied that I was now stable. “No need for apologies, Miss…?”

“Drizella,” I said, finding my confidence. “Drizella Tremaine.”

“Well, Miss Tremaine,” he said, giving a respectful bow. “I’m just glad I caught you. Thank you for attending my party.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but was pushed aside as Cindy made her way up to the front.

“It’s been soooo fun!” she chirped in a fake, high pitched voice. “I’m Cindy, by the way.”

And with that, my conversation with the Prince came to a halt, and we left shortly after to make way for the next family; but I could have sworn I felt the warmth of his hands on my arms for the rest of the evening.

I haven’t had a proper conversation with the Prince since that day, but I took every excuse I could find to go to the castle thereafter. A few months after our meeting, Mother had completed a commissioned piece of needlepoint for the castle’s Director of Art and Culture, and I offered to bring it there myself. I was rewarded with a smile and small wave from the Prince, who had been walking on one of the interior balconies as I entered the Great Hall. Had he remembered me?

Sightings after that were few and far between. Though I attended a handful of events at the castle, and went there for the occasional odd errand, it was rare that I saw the Prince. Even rarer was to see the Prince and receive any kind of acknowledgement. And still…I never forgot those eyes. I never forgot that touch. He was a prince, but he was also humble and kind, caring and sweet.

And I loved him. I couldn’t wait to see him again at the ball, and often fell asleep dreaming of waltzing with him all through the night.

PART THREE - Preparing for the Ball

I wanted Cindy to be in a good mood so she’d leave me alone while I was getting ready for the ball. I offered to do her house cleaning duties, which meant I had to get up at the crack of dawn to complete both her chores and mine; but it was worth it to know she wouldn’t bother me.

I helped Anastasia get dressed. She had a sort of natural beauty that meant her face didn’t take to makeup well, so we focused more on her hair and clothes. Mother spent weeks preparing the dresses for us by hand, and truthfully the gowns were more stunning than anything I had seen at a store. We got ready in her room, which had the most space and the best natural light. Cindy of course wanted nothing to do with us, and spent her time who-knows-where while we got ready.

Mother sighed as she opened her far wardrobe doors. Inside was a stunning pale blue gown, shimmering with exotic material and accented with many small details. Below the dress was a pair of delicate glass shoes with a similar glimmery finish. She ran her hands over the material as she lamented.

“It’s not your fault, girls, but I so wished one of you would have been able to wear this…”

The ballgown and shoes had been handmade for my mother several years prior, when she and Cindy’s father received an invitation to a coronation ball in a neighboring country. Cindy’s father often traveled for business and had made the right friends, and it was in that dress he decided to propose to my mother. She had been stunning; the dress was a timeless design that was flattering for her, but youthful enough it would work for one of her daughters one day.

Except…I had grown tall and lanky, and Anastasia had far more curves than my mother. With her skill she could have tailored it to some degree, but there was almost no extra fabric in the seams, and no way to replicate the foreign material. And the shoes…well, there was no way to fix those. My sister and I had inherited feet from my father’s side, apparently.

Ironic as it was, Cindy far better resembled my mother’s figure and size than her own biological children did. She was dainty and small, though you’d never guess that from her personality. Cindy would never admit she wanted something of my mother’s, though, and instead found a way to insult the outfit the first time she had seen it.

“Glass slippers? Really?” she had said, nose in the air. “How impractical. Who would ever wear such a thing?”

The gown and shoes were indisputably beautiful, so it was clear she was just lashing out. But I could see how her words affected my mother, who had sold off so much of her fine jewelry and clothing but held onto the dress through all of our hardships. She wanted so badly for one of us to wear it, but there was nothing we could do about Ana’s shape or my height.

It didn’t matter. Our gowns were also beautiful, and suited each of our features well. Mother closed the wardrobe with a slight flush on her face, realizing she shouldn’t have made us feel bad for something out of our control. The timepiece on the mantle chimed - it was almost time to go.

Cindy had been unusually quiet and undisruptive that afternoon. Optimistically I assumed it was because she had no chores to worry about, but as I stepped in my room for a final spray of perfume I discovered where she had been. Cindy sat on my bed, feet on the covers - shoes and all - holding up my secret diary.

I stared in horror for a moment. So this is what had been keeping her occupied while we got dressed…

“I still dream about that day…” she said in a sing-song voice, mocking me. “His warm hands and warmer smile…I know it’s a long shot, but I know in my heart we could be happy together. I just need a chance, and that chance is coming this weekend at the ball. They say the Prince is being pressured to find a wife, so this is my last opportunity to show him that we’re soul mates…”

Cindy smiled sinisterly as she looked up at me over the cover of the diary. “You really think YOU stand any chance with the Prince?”

I blushed, feeling silly, and a different look came over Cindy’s face. She had noticed my dress, and even she couldn’t come up with anything negative to say about it.

“Where did you get that?” she snapped.

“Mother made it…this one and Ana’s.”

Cindy’s eyes narrowed. “I thought we were so poor that I have to constantly mop the floors without so much as a maid’s help. How are we affording fabric like that?”

“Mother sold extra pieces of needlepoint this past month, and traded some of her older dresses for fabric. She’s not spending money unwisely. You heard how important she thinks this ball is, so she made it work.”

There was a pause and I could almost see the gears turning in Cindy’s head, though I couldn’t figure out what she was thinking.

“I want one.”

I blinked at her in confusion. “You want…a dress? I mean, Mother can probably make you one for the next ball.”

“No. I want one now. I want to go to the ball. If anyone has a shot with the Prince, it’s me, and I’m going to need something to wear.”

My heart sank, because I knew that once Cindy decided she wanted something, she usually got it. “These…these took her weeks to make. She can’t make one in the next few hours!” I stared at her like she was crazy, because she was.

Without warning, Cindy launched herself off the bed and ran down the hallway. It was hard to keep up in my ensemble, so she beat me to Mother’s room, where I found her demanding a dress.

Mother was as confused as I was, and told her the same thing I did - what she wanted was impossible.

“Well…then…let me wear yours!” she said, looking at Anastasia. My older sister was curvier than Cindy, but her height was a close enough match. “And you can take it in real quick!” she barked at my mother.

Everyone just looked at each other for a moment in disbelief. Ana looked horrified, too overwhelmed with the conversation to find her voice.

“Cindy, Mother asked if you wanted to go to the ball weeks ago. You said no. She can’t just make a dress magically appear. And we aren’t giving you our dresses because you’re regretting your choice.” I kept my voice strong, for both mine and Ana’s sake.

Rage flared in Cindy’s eyes.

“You think you can hide inside a pretty dress and make the Prince fall in love with you?” she howled. “I could make him fall for me wearing a potato sack. But you?” Cindy marched towards me, but I held my ground.

“Cindy!” my mother yelled, horrified. But as always, she didn’t know how to control her.

“I’d like to see what the Prince thinks of you without all of this!” She pulled on a decorative flower my mother had crafted by hand. As it ripped from the front of the dress, so too did a trail of beads on strings, all coming loose and falling to the floor.

I pushed her. I normally wasn’t violent, and typically I was patient with Cindy’s outbursts, but not tonight. Tonight was my chance with the Prince. I couldn’t let her ruin it.

Cindy bounced back with surprising coordination, launching herself at me full force. We landed on the ground, clawing at one another and pulling hair and fabric and jewelry until Ana managed to pull her off of me.

I stood, finding myself in the floor length mirror in the corner of the room. My dress was ruined. My face and hair were ruined.

My chances were ruined.

I was so stunned, so distraught that tears never came. I simply stood there trying to catch my breath and process what had happened. I pictured the Prince in my mind’s eye, seeing me in this state and turning away in disgust. I fell to my knees.

In a surprising move, Mother grabbed Cindy by the arm. Using strength I didn’t know she had, she pulled Cindy out of the room and down the hall. Mother almost never disciplined Cindy; she usually let her tantrums run their course on their own. That night was special, though. At least, it was supposed to be.

I could hear Mother pushing Cindy into a large linen closet at the end of the hall that had a lock on the outside. I was shocked that she was going to such extreme measures; she had never done anything like this before. Cindy struggled against the door, but by some miracle my mother managed to lock it from the other side.

“I will let you out as soon as you calm down, or at least as soon as the girls are finished getting ready - again. You will not ruin this night for our family, Cindy. We’re trying to make sure we don’t eventually starve. That includes you, even when you’re an ungrateful brat.”

Mine and Ana’s mouths hung open when Mother came back into the room. She came to me, inspecting the dress, and I could tell the exchange took all of her remaining energy. I lead her to a stool so she could sit as she continued running her hands on the fabric to see what was salvageable.

“I…I’m sorry, love,” she said softly. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do, at least not in time.”

I swallowed, trying hard to keep from crying.

“You have lots of other lovely dresses, though! Why don’t you go pick one out. I’ll get the hair tools ready to fix your curls before we go. You’ll look absolutely stunning, no matter what you wear.”

Forcing a smile, I turned out down the hall, ignoring Cindy’s cries and yells from the closet. I had other dresses, sure, but they wouldn’t be the same.

PART FOUR: THE BALL

We arrived late thanks to Cindy’s outburst and the consequent time it took to make me presentable again. Cindy had not calmed down, so mother got us safely into the carriage before going back inside to unlock her. She wasn’t cruel enough to leave her in there all night, though I thought it would be deserving.

When we arrived, we were too late for the formal announcements. Had we gotten there on time, we’d have been presented to the crowd so the Prince could hear our names and see our faces before he narrowed down who he would dance with later that evening.

I almost didn’t care. In my simple dress and face splotchy from emotion, I didn’t want the Prince to see me at all. I almost stayed home, but that would mean that Cindy won. I might not be getting the fairytale ending I’d dreamed of, but I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she got to me.

Anastasia was a dream in her pink gown, and several young men asked her to dance. She was so shy that she barely spoke to any of them, but agreed to join them at the behest of our mother. I got a few sympathy dance requests, mostly from the friends of the men dancing with Ana, but I could tell they weren't really interested.

Mother of course was thrilled, but she couldn’t see that my heart was shattered into a million pieces. I passed by the Prince on the dancefloor on several occasions, as he spun around beautiful young women with his perfect steps. There was no hope now that he’d ask me to dance with him; he wouldn’t even know that I was there, and he’d never notice me in my dress, drab as it was compared to the others. I could only hope he didn’t fall for anyone else that evening, so that maybe, no matter how slim, there might be another chance for me in the future.

All things considered, I was beginning to feel hopeful as the night went on. He never asked anyone to dance for more than one song, and I saw him roll his eyes when his father spoke into his ear as he took a break. Maybe…maybe he hadn’t fallen for any of these women after all.

But then, just as my hope was beginning to grow - she had to ruin things, all over again.

Cindy made her way down the stairs in my mother’s dress. The glass shoes, the ones she had said were so impractical, glittered underneath the petticoats as she took each step. Everyone in the room had their mouths hanging open as she made her way; the other guests because they were struck by the beauty of her outfit, and us because we were horrified to see her in it.

I glanced over at the Prince, knowing deep down what I would find even before I saw his face. He, like the rest of the room, was enamored. I recognized the look; it was one of love at first sight. I knew because I had felt it myself, the moment I met him years ago.

The crowd parted as she reached the lower level, and the Prince made his way towards her as though she were a magnet. I couldn’t bear to watch as he held out his hand and they danced around the room; I told Ana I would meet her outside when she was ready to leave, and dashed out before Cindy had the pleasure of seeing the pain on my face.

Cindy didn’t even care about the Prince. She might care about the wealth and the title, but she hadn’t thought twice about him himself, not like I had, not until she read my diary. She knew I loved him, and so she had to have him for herself.

And I’m supposedly the evil one.

PART FIVE: The Aftermath

While I won’t pay Cindy many compliments, I’ll give her this - she knows how to get what she wants.

She’s manipulative to the extreme, and knows how to both read and play people to her advantage. Cindy claims she had to dash out of the ball at midnight because of some “magic spell” that had been cast on her. All of that is a complete fabrication.

Cindy left at midnight because she knew it would give her an air of mystery. She knew that leaving just as the Prince was showing real interest in her was the best way to get him to come calling for her himself. And, she knew that leaving the glass slipper behind - a shoe that was one of a kind, to which she had the twin - would guarantee nobody else could claim her place.

I was devastated. Cindy and I didn’t talk after the ball; she simply gave me a smug look the day after when I saw her in the kitchen. She didn’t even have the decency to hang the dress back up where it belonged, leaving it instead on the floor of her room for my mother to find it.

You know the rest of the story. The prince went to all the households, asking women of eligible age to try on the glass shoe. When he arrived at our home, Cindy was one step ahead of us. She had hidden the other shoe so none of us could take it, and when the Prince came calling she was able to both fit the shoe he brought, and produce the match.

She likes to tell people my mother broke one of the heels, but the truth is - my mother realized that we finally had a way in. Even if Cindy herself didn’t want to help us, the rest of the royal family and its workers surely wouldn’t let the princess-to-be’s own family starve. Though I knew Mother had hoped it would be me or Ana, she didn’t fight Cindy that day. She let it all happen, knowing it was the best thing for the family.

And so…Cindy went off with the Prince. My Prince. She got what she wanted - a life where she never had to do chores again. My mother didn’t expect the outlash that came once Cindy, or should I say Cinderella, told everyone the “story” of what happened; but in a way Cindy did come through for us. She found us all menial jobs in the castle, as house cleaners; working far below our rank, but at the very least not having to worry about where future meals would come from.

Honestly, I never understood why she hated the cleaning chores so much. They weren’t nearly as labor intensive or mentally draining as a lot of the things my sister and I had to do over the years. It’s mindless, really.

Giving me plenty of time to think about how I’ll get my revenge.