Cinderella Stays Late Page 2

  What are the owners of all those eyes thinking? she wondered. That her outfit was pathetic? That her hair was tangled and her stockings dusty?

  Sad, but true.

  Since most of the kids in her village were boys, she’d never worried much about fashion before. But at this school there were lots of girls. And if they were anything like the Steps, they’d care more about fashion than she did. Still, she hoped she would find some friends among them. Some nice girls, not mean ones like the Steps.

  The Steps swept grandly into the Great Hall, their fine blue gowns swishing. There were no clinking bells sewn to their hems. No way. Their fancy, fashionable dresses were edged with satin ribbon, just like those of all the other girls Cinda saw. And the boys in the room all wore fine tunics, with multicolored stripes and piping.

  The Great Hall was every bit as magnificent as the grand staircase. There were balconies at each end, rows of windows with beautiful diamond-shaped glass panes, and colorful banners on the walls.

  Cinda gaped in astonishment. She wasn’t used to such luxury! Though her stepmom had redecorated their house with her dad’s newfound riches, the refurbished house still couldn’t come close to the majesty of Grimm Academy. And as for Cinda’s clothes, well, her stepmom hadn’t seen fit to buy her a new wardrobe.

  As they headed for the lunch line at the far end of the Hall, Malorette and Odette simpered and smiled at every boy they passed. Especially the ones with crowns. Princes, no doubt.

  Cinda followed along behind the Steps. Every glance from those they passed made her painfully aware of the uncoolness of the gown she wore. It had been one of her mom’s hand-me-downs, its seams taken in so it would fit Cinda’s smaller frame.

  Her heart gave a sad little thump. Her mom would have been so proud to know that she was attending this prestigious academy. But she’d died a year ago. And Cinda missed her every day.

  Cinda had gone to the village school all her life. It was okay. It taught the basics. But here at Grimm Academy, she would learn everything about Grimmlandia history and magic.

  Her mom had dreamed of Cinda attending the Academy. But there had been no money for her to do so until now. She knew her stepmom begrudged the tuition, but sending Cinda here was the one thing her dad had insisted on. So when a spot had opened up this term, her mom’s dream had come true. Cinda wasn’t going to let the Steps blow this chance for her!

  Clink, clink, clink. The tiny bells on the hem of her gown tapped along the stone floor with her every step. Luckily, the sound of all the other kids’ voices and the clatter of lunch trays and dishes helped drown out the bells. But not enough to suit the Steps, apparently.

  “Stop that awful clinking, will you?” Malorette demanded.

  Cinda lifted the hem of her long skirt so it wouldn’t brush the floor, trying to quiet the bells. It helped — a little.

  Even though her two stepsisters were never nice to her, she was suddenly glad to be tagging along with them. They’d been going to this academy since first grade, so despite playing mean tricks on her, they did at least know how things were done here.

  They’d learned some magic at the Academy, too. And they’d used it against her more than once. Like the time her stepmom had told her to weed the garden back home. Every time she’d pulled a weed, another had grown instantly in its place. It had been an impossible job. Sometimes she worried her Steps might one day turn her into a toad. Or something worse!

  When they finally reached the lunch line, Cinda bent to tug at her stockings, which were sagging. Then she pulled at a twig that was caught in her petticoat.

  “Stand up straight! Don’t draw attention to your awful gown,” hissed Odette.

  “Verily, you are sooo embarrassing,” said Malorette. “Why did we have to get saddled with such a bumpkin?”

  Ignoring the curious looks she was getting from other students, Cinda straightened her shoulders, pretending not to know what a mess she was. Really, it was the Steps’ fault she was so untidy. They had left early in the family coach this morning, leaving her to walk to the Academy.

  Which was why she’d arrived late on her very first day. It was also the reason her hair was tangled and her hem dusty. She’d had to hoof it through fields and country lanes to get here. And that was why she’d missed her first three classes already.

  “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me,” Cinda replied softly. She forced a sweet smile as if she didn’t care what the two Steps said to her. She had the pleasure of seeing them grit their teeth in annoyance.

  “Names won’t hurt you? Well, we’ll just see about that,” said Malorette.

  Uh-oh! What did that mean? Cinda worried. Would she soon be croaking away and hopping up and down on a lily pad in a pond? She never should’ve stood up to them, even in such a small way.

  The short line of students in front of them was slowly moving into an area behind a stone partition. Must be where the food was served, she guessed.

  Going on tiptoe, she peeked ahead, wondering what was for lunch. She couldn’t see the food. But whatever it was, it smelled delicious! Her stomach rumbled. She was hungry. Because she’d missed her ride here, she’d not only missed her first three classes, but breakfast as well.

  Eventually, they made it to the head of the line. Following the Steps’ lead, Cinda picked up a shiny silver tray from a stack of them. Her stepsisters each picked up a knife, fork, and spoon, and a perfectly folded white linen napkin from bins next to the trays. Cinda reached to do the same.

  “Care for a bit of dessert, dearie?” a scary voice demanded suddenly. A wrinkled old hand shot into her line of vision. Its fingers held out a small plate to her. There was a three-dimensional cookie shaped like a gingerbread house on it. It looked just big enough to fit in Cinda’s palm and was beautifully decorated with candies and icing.

  Still holding on to her silverware and napkin, Cinda looked up into the eyes of the woman who’d spoken. Those eyes were as yellow as a cat’s! And her white-gray hair was as wild and scraggly as the moss that grew at the edge of Neverwood Forest.

  Startled, Cinda dropped both her knife and spoon. Clank! Clank! She bent to grab them as they bounced across the stone floor.

  “Honestly!” said Odette, rolling her eyes. “Were you born in a barn?”

  “Apologize to Mistress Hagscorch,” said Malorette.

  “I’m so sorry,” Cinda told the lunch lady sincerely. She couldn’t help it if she looked exactly like a storybook witch. And sounded like one, too.

  “Don’t worry your tasty, um, I mean your pretty little head about it,” Mistress Hagscorch cackled. She pinched Cinda’s cheek. Then she studied her, as if sizing up a chicken she was considering cooking for dinner.

  “You’re a skinny little thing, aren’t you?” Mistress Hagscorch sounded disappointed, but then she perked up. “Still, I’ve got treats that’ll fatten you up in no time.”

  She held out another plate of something that smelled yummy. Cinda forgot her fear of the strange woman and reached for the plate. Her hand faltered when the old crone said, “Figured you’d be tempted by my fig newts. Everyone is. How about a sour-eye scone and some of my nine-day-old pease porridge pot pie as well?”

  Cinda gazed at the food. The names of everything sounded horrible. But it looked and smelled sooo good. Did she dare eat it?

  “Uh, well …” she began. She didn’t really want to eat anything this lady offered, no matter how good it smelled.

  Clunk. Too late. The lunch lady dropped the plate of food onto her tray.

  Suddenly, whispers rippled up and down the lunch line.

  “Ooh! Look! The new prince has arrived,” Cinda heard someone say. As she was pushed along in the line, she craned her neck to see this boy who was causing all the stir.

  Malorette elbowed her. “Don’t stare! Honestly, have you learned nothing in Comportment class?”

  “I just got here, remember? I haven’t been to any classes yet,” said Cinda. “So wha
t is Comportment, exactly?”

  All the students near enough to hear turned to stare at her. Well, whatever it was, it wasn’t taught in the village school, as her two Steps probably knew.

  Odette stuck her nose in the air. “A girl with good comportment behaves in a polite and princessly manner,” she said in a snooty voice. “Even if she isn’t actually a princess.”

  “Oh,” said Cinda. The Steps must definitely have skipped that class!

  Another prince up ahead with tangled brown hair the color of swamp grass caught her eye and grinned. She grinned back.

  Malorette groaned in embarrassment. “Now you’ve done it. Never smile at Prince Foulsmell. If you do, he’ll follow you around for the rest of term like a puppy.”

  Cinda purposely widened her smile at the prince. Although she didn’t really want to hang out with someone who smelled foul, she wasn’t going to let these mean Steps tell her who to befriend.

  Odette huffed at her, looking annoyed. “You’re hopeless.”

  Just then, Malorette snapped her fingers, smirking mysteriously. “Hey! I almost forgot. There’s one more thing you really need to know about this school,” she told Cinda. “Our principal’s health is very delicate. If you ever see him clap his hand over his mouth and look apoplectic, call out his name three times as fast as you can.”

  “What’s his name?” asked Cinda.

  The two Steps leaned in and lowered their voices to a whisper as they replied at the same time, “It’s Rumpelstiltskin.” Straightening, they smiled at each other in a sneaky way that made Cinda nervous.

  Cinda mulled over that information as they finished getting their lunch. Once the three of them left the line, she started to follow her two stepsisters to a table. Abruptly, they stopped in front of her, causing her to bump into them.

  “Uh, no, I don’t think so,” Malorette told her. She and Odette were shaking their heads. “You are not sitting with us.”

  “Yeah,” said Odette. “We have an image to maintain at this school. Find a seat somewhere else, Loserella.”

  Cinda’s cheeks flushed. After the Steps deserted her, she stood in the middle of the Great Hall. Alone. Feeling exactly like the loser they’d said she was.

  Gripping her tray hard with both hands, she eyed the two long tables on either side of the Hall. Where might she be made welcome?

  Anywhere at all?

  Cinda stood frozen in the middle of the stone floor between the two linen-draped tables. They ran the entire length of the Great Hall, one along each wall. A mix of boys and girls sat at each table, talking, eating, and laughing.

  Everyone seemed to already know everyone else. Although Cinda didn’t know anyone besides the Steps, she knew that these students must all be characters from literature. Just as she was. Though not all were from the books of Grimm, everyone in Grimmlandia had been brought here for safekeeping by the Grimm brothers. Cinda wasn’t sure what they needed to be kept safe from, precisely. No one knew. Not really.

  Through the double rows of large arched windows that stretched along both sides of the Hall, Cinda glimpsed blue skies with fluffy white clouds. Some of the windows were propped open, and birds flew in and out of the Hall, crossing in from one side and zooming back out the other.

  She halfway wished she could fly away with them, back to her old happy life in the village before her dad had remarried. But she couldn’t turn back time. This was her new life.

  Spotting an empty space on a bench between two girls at one of the tables, Cinda bravely went toward it. What was the worst that could happen? If they told her she couldn’t sit with them, she probably wouldn’t melt into a puddle of goo. Right?

  She stopped a few inches short and spoke to the girl seated on the right of the empty space. She couldn’t see the girl’s face at first because her back was to her.

  “Is it okay if I sit here?” asked Cinda.

  “Huh?” A pale, rosy-cheeked face framed with short ebony hair turned to look up at her. It was the girl from the little painting on one of the trunk-lockers next to Cinda’s!

  “Oh, sure. Go ahead,” said the girl. She scooched over a bit to make more room. Then she started eating again. Like it was no big deal. Like she hadn’t just done the kindest, most wonderful thing ever!

  Grateful, Cinda set her silver tray on the table and sat down. Take that, Steps! she thought. This girl doesn’t mind if I sit with her and her friends. No way am I a Loserella!

  Suddenly, another girl dashed up on the opposite side of the table. She set down her silver lunch tray. Clunk! It was the girl in the red cape! The one from the heart painting on the other trunk-locker beside Cinda’s.

  “Sorry I’m late!” the red-cape girl said breathlessly. “I got turned around coming out of my third-period class and got lost.” Two girls on that side of the table moved apart so she could squeeze in between them on the bench seat.

  “You? Lost?” the ebony-haired girl teased gently. “No way!”

  Red-cape girl scrunched her face into a goofy expression for half a second. Then she unscrunched it and laughed.

  Seeming to notice Cinda staring, red-cape spoke to her. “Uh-oh. What’s wrong? Is my cape askew?” She straightened it, then pushed back the hood to reveal dark, curly hair with glittery red streaks.

  “No. It’s just …” Cinda looked from red-cape girl to ebony-hair girl. “Well, I have the locker, um, trunk between both of yours. I saw your pictures in those little hearts.” Using her two index fingers, she drew a heart shape in the air.

  “That’s weird,” commented the girl on the other side of Cinda. “I mean, that your trunker would be between theirs and then you’d wind up sitting by us on your first day. It’s like fate or something.”

  The girl who’d spoken had mysterious, dark brown eyes and long, glossy black hair. Really long black hair, with medium blue streaks in it. It was caught in loose, thick braids that almost touched the floor. And she wore deep red lip gloss and blue fingernail polish that was so dark it almost looked black.

  Wait a minute. When Cinda sat down, the goth-looking girl’s hair hadn’t been touching the floor. But now it was. Had it grown an inch longer in the last few minutes?

  The goth girl must have noticed Cinda staring at her hair with a puzzled expression. Because her face flushed and she immediately clammed up. Looking down at her plate, she started to eat again.

  All along the table, other students were eating the odd food, too. And no one seemed to be getting sick or dying. Or even spitting it out. Cinda picked up her fork, stabbed a bit of fig newt, and nibbled. It was good!

  “What’s a trunker?” she said after she swallowed. “Oh, wait, I get it. Trunker because the lockers are trunks?”

  Red nodded. “Mm-hmm. So you’re new this term? Where are you from?”

  “The village of Hey Diddle Diddle,” said Cinda. At the silly name, red-cape’s quick grin came and went.

  After swallowing another bite of fig newt, Cinda added, “How long have you guys gone to school here?”

  “Since forever. We bonded in first grade and have been BFFs ever since,” said the short-ebony-haired girl.

  Red-cape nodded her head toward the goth girl. “That’s Rapunzel. I’m Red.”

  “And I’m Snow,” said the short-ebony-haired girl.

  “Snow’s a princess,” added Red. “Unlike Rapunzel and me. Luckily, she doesn’t let it go to her head.” She grinned at Snow.

  “I’m —” But before Cinda could say her name, trumpets suddenly blared.

  Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-tum!

  Everyone at the table, including Cinda, jumped in surprise at the sound. She glanced up to see that two musicians had appeared on the second-floor balcony that overlooked the far end of the two-story Great Hall.

  A wide, carved wooden shelf hung high on the stone wall behind them. A row of five knights’ helmets forged of shiny iron sat upon it, Cinda noticed. Each had a different-colored decorative feather sticking up from its top.

  Having
gotten everyone’s attention, the musicians lowered their long, thin, golden herald trumpets.

  “Attention, scholars!” a group of formal-sounding voices chorused. “All rise for today’s announcements from the great and goodly principal of Grimm Academy!”

  Who is speaking? Cinda wondered. Not the musicians. Their lips hadn’t moved.

  The students all rose dutifully and turned toward the balcony. She did likewise.

  Stomp! Stomp!

  The top of a tall hat appeared above the balcony railing. Cinda peeked at the other students around her, wondering what was going on. They were all calmly and expectantly watching the balcony.

  Stomp! Stomp!

  More of the hat appeared above the railing. Then a face below it. A face with a long nose and a long chin. With each step he took, a little more of the mysterious principal appeared.

  He must be walking up some steps behind the railing, Cinda decided. Which was odd, because the railing was only about four feet high.

  Stomp! Stomp!

  Finally, the principal’s head and shoulders appeared. He was a gnome! Three feet tall at most.

  Strangely, his skin and clothing were splattered with brassy-colored splotches that sort of sparkled. Some of the splotches were on his arms, and others on his hat and shirt. Was it paint? Or had one of the birds flying through the Great Hall pooped on him? If so, it must have been a big bird. One with sparkly poop!

  From behind her, Snow leaned closer and whispered, “He dabbles in alchemy.”

  “Oh,” Cinda whispered back without turning around. She tried to remember what alchemy was. She was pretty sure it was the science of making something. But what?

  “Greetings, scholars! Welcome to the commencement of a new year at Grimm Academy!” the principal called out. He might be small, but his voice was loud. “As most of you know, I am your esteemed and verily busy principal. So let’s get on with it. This term we welcome two new students to the Academy. The first is …”