Cinder & Ella Page 6

  Already the world seemed brighter. Life wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been half an hour ago. My overwhelming loneliness was gone. There wasn’t really a light at the end of the tunnel yet, but at least I wasn’t in the dark by myself anymore.

  I should have known Cinder wouldn’t have changed. I should have e-mailed him months ago in the rehab center once I could move again. Oh, well. No use dwelling on the past. I had him back now, and that was all that mattered.

  EllaTheRealHero: No punching. My dad is a big, bad U.S. attorney. He would bury you in court, get you thrown in jail, and probably even take your fancy talking car.

  Cinder458: Whoa, whoa, whoa, not my precious! Okay, okay, so no punching him or kidnapping you. But seriously, Ella, what can I do? I feel helpless here chica. Talk to me.

  EllaTheRealHero: I don’t want to talk. I am so sick of talking. The only people I talk to anymore are doctors, and all they do is make me talk. I don’t need another doctor. I need a friend. I need someone to make me laugh and help me take my mind off everything. Don’t treat me like I’m going to break. Yell at me and don’t let me get away with anything when I start acting like a brat.

  Cinder458: Would I ever miss an opportunity to call you a brat?

  EllaTheRealHero: No. That’s why I need you. My life is upside down right now, and I really need something familiar. I need normal.

  Cinder458: I can do normal.

  I laughed a genuine, happy, lighthearted laugh. It was the first real laugh I’d managed since my accident. There was nothing forced or awkward about it. I hadn’t done it because I was nervous about anything or trying to hide my real feelings. I just laughed because I was in a good mood (and because what Cinder said was ridiculous).

  Dr. Parish was going to be happy. Maybe, if I was lucky, she’d stop hounding me about spending time with my dad and the stepwitches, but I doubted it.

  EllaTheRealHero: Sure you can, rock star. You wouldn’t know normal if it bit you on your ridiculously good-looking face.

  Cinder458: You’ve never seen my face. How do you know it’s good-looking?

  EllaTheRealHero: Because no ugly person could have an ego as big as yours.

  Cinder458: You’re right. I’m gorgeous. I’m also probably way too amazing to accomplish normal, but I can definitely handle familiar. You’ve seen the cast for The Druid Prince, right? I’ve been going crazy not being able to talk to you about it.

  I laughed again. This was familiar. My mind drifted back to the early months in the hospital. The doctors kept me in a medically-induced coma for three weeks because my pain was too much and I was having so many surgeries. After they brought me out of it, there were still a number of weeks where I was groggy and incoherent—in and out of consciousness. The hospital staff told me that for weeks I would call out for my mom and Cinder.

  One day, one of my nurses recognized the name Cinder and brought me an entertainment magazine. The cover boasted an article about Hollywood’s leading It Boy landing the role of fantasy’s most cherished prince. I guess the thought of teen sensation Brian Oliver playing Prince Cinder was so horrifying it brought me right out of my stupor and sent me into a tizzy, as my nurse called it. And that was before I learned who was directing.

  EllaTheRealHero: Ugh! Don’t remind me!

  Cinder458: ?

  EllaTheRealHero: Why does Hollywood always have to ruin everything?

  Cinder458: You think it’s going to suck?

  EllaTheRealHero: Kaylee Summers as the Princess Ratana? She’s not even an actress! She’s a supermodel!

  Cinder458: Who knows, maybe acting is her calling.

  EllaTheRealHero: And maybe Max Oliver just thought she was really hot. They don’t even have her in a dress in the movie. She’s decked out in some slutty, tight, leather getup like Xena: Warrior Princess. It’s disgraceful. And forget any chance of them following the story. With Max Oliver directing, you know it’s going to be nothing but a bunch of over-the-top mindless action.

  Cinder458: Wow. So you’re really not a fan of Max Oliver, then. I thought you were joking all those times you wrote scathing reviews of his movies on your blog.

  EllaTheRealHero: I thought you were joking every time you defended him. Max Oliver is your go-to director if you want flashy car chases, big explosions, and half-naked women—which I know is your favorite kind of movie—but even you have to admit he is so wrong for The Druid Prince. And of course he just had to go and bring his son on to play Cinder! Why??? Why are they doing this to me???

  Cinder458: What!!! I thought you’d be happy about that. Brian Oliver will make an excellent Cinder. That dude is awesome.

  EllaTheRealHero: LOL! I never knew you had some big, gay celebrity crush on Brian Oliver.

  Cinder458: Remember what we said about you being a BRAT?? It’s not a crush. I just think he’s perfect for the part.

  EllaTheRealHero: Sure, he looks the part, but he’s only ever done cheesy teen movies. Who knows if he can pull off the drama? Not that there will be any with his father directing.

  Cinder458: I will admit that Max Oliver is wrong for the movie, and Kaylee Summers definitely has air for brains, but I don’t think the movie will suck. They got Academy Award Winner Jason Cohen to adapt the script, and you’re wrong about Brian. He can do it. There’s even some Oscar buzz in town right now.

  EllaTheRealHero: Teen Choice Award buzz, maybe. Best Kiss and Hottest Abs, definitely, but Best Actor? I’ll believe it when I see it.

  Cinder458: Whatever, brat. He’ll at least be nominated. I’m calling it now. He did this one indie drama, The Long Road Home. Watch it, and I promise I’ll let you grovel for forgiveness once you realize how wrong you are about him.

  EllaTheRealHero: Ha! Okay. I’ll check it out. I should go now, though.

  Cinder458: Don’t go yet.

  EllaTheRealHero: Why?

  Cinder458: I don’t know. I just don’t want you to.

  Cinder could be so sweet when he wanted, but that’s not why that little confession caused my chest to constrict. Nobody had wanted me around since my accident. My father brought me home, and he and Jennifer tried to be nice, but it was obvious I wasn’t really a part of the family.

  Sometimes I’d come out of my room and it would take Jennifer a second too long to force a smile on her face. And why wouldn’t it? I was my dad’s forgotten past. I was a disruption in her perfect, beautiful world, and I came with a lot of baggage. She put up with me, and I didn’t think she hated me, but she didn’t like me, either. The stepwitches definitely didn’t want me around. I’d been so sure that nobody would ever want me again.

  EllaTheRealHero: Afraid I’m going to disappear again?

  Cinder458: That’s not funny. You scared the crap out of me, woman!!! I thought I lost you forever. Are you sure you’re okay?

  Okay was a relative term.

  EllaTheRealHero: I’m much better now that I’m talking to you. I really missed you.

  Cinder458: I missed you more. You can’t ever disappear on me again. I need you, Ellamara, oh wise and beautiful mystic priestess of the Realm. I need your guidance and council.

  EllaTheRealHero: As if you ever listen to a word I say.

  Cinder458: I always listen. I just rarely agree.

  EllaTheRealHero: That is because you are foolish and shallow, young druid prince.

  Cinder458: You forgot handsome.

  EllaTheRealHero: And conceited.

  Cinder458: Oh, how I’ve missed you constantly cutting down my ego.

  EllaTheRealHero: It’s a nearly impossible task because it’s so inflated, but I try my best.

  Cinder458: I suppose I should let you go now. If it’s late here, it must be almost morning for you.

  I hesitated to respond. Part of me was desperate to tell him the truth, to tell him I lived in LA now, and ask to meet in person. I wanted so much to have a face to put with his name. I wanted to hear the laugh behind all the LOLs he typed. I wanted to know how his voice sounded when he called me w
oman every time he was frustrated with me.

  The problem was I knew once I met him I’d want so much more than that. Mama had been scared I’d fall for him someday, but I’d already fallen for him. In fact, I was certain that I was hopelessly in love with him. I always had been.

  Cinder wouldn’t want me. What guy would when he could have any beautiful girl he wanted? I was pretty sure Cinder would still be my friend if he saw my scars, but to what extent? Would he be embarrassed of me? Would he be like my stepsisters and not want to introduce me to his perfect-looking friends? Would he be like Jennifer and be afraid to look at me? Or like my father, stuck with an awkward acquaintance because he felt obligated?

  If we met, we could never go back from that. It would undoubtedly change everything. I couldn’t take that risk when he was all I had, so I said nothing.

  EllaTheRealHero: Thanks for ditching your date to talk to me tonight.

  Cinder458: Anytime. Talk again soon? You’re not going to disappear on me again?

  EllaTheRealHero: Not if I can help it. I’ll watch that movie and get back to you. Goodnight, Cinder.

  Cinder458: Goodnight, Ella. Thanks for writing me. I’m really glad you’re okay.

  He signed off and guilt swelled in me. Not telling him felt like a lie. “Maybe someday,” I whispered to myself as I shut the laptop. I hoped it was true. I hoped someday I’d find the courage to face him.

  My first day of school went pretty much as I’d expected it would. Everyone stared. I wore my winter uniform even though it was still so hot out because it covered my skin, but it didn’t matter that people couldn’t see my scars. They watched me limp around on my cane and stared at my long-sleeves and tights, knowing exactly who I was and what I was hiding beneath my clothes.

  Some people tried to be discreet, or tried not to look, but their eyes drifted back to me anyway. Those were the kids who would force a smile my direction or speak to me out of politeness when they had to. Other kids stared openly, laughed, pointed, and teased me in an attempt to make the kids around them laugh.

  No one made an effort to befriend me. No one stuck up for me when I was being teased. Some looked as if they felt bad for me, but were too afraid to intervene. I figured they were probably the kids who had been the target of the bullies until I came to school and took their places. Not even those kids invited me to sit with them at lunch. They were too afraid to be nice to me.

  I did my best to ignore it all, but it was going to take time for me to get to the point where it wouldn’t hurt me—if that was even possible.

  My stepsisters were absolutely no help to me. I had both of them in at least one class and we all had the same lunch, but as I’d suspected would happen, they’d assumed the pretend-Ella-doesn’t-exist tactic. The only time we spoke the entire day was in the parking lot after school. Anastasia greeted me with a nasty glare as she opened the passenger door of their tiny two-door convertible. “Parking in the handicapped section is so embarrassing.”

  Juliette dumped her backpack on the backseat and climbed behind the wheel. “Whatever. It’s the best space in the entire parking lot. It’s so close we’ll be out of here before the real traffic.”

  Anastasia scoffed at her sister and pulled the passenger seat forward, gesturing for me to climb into the backseat. Was she kidding? “You know I can’t climb in there, right?”

  Anastasia shrugged. “Then walk home. I’m not riding in the back the whole year.”

  I closed my eyes against the sudden sting of frustrated tears. This had been an awful day and I just wanted to get home. “I’m not trying to be difficult. I physically can’t climb back there.”

  “Ana!” Juliette hissed. “Would you just get in?”

  “No. This is our car. We shouldn’t have to be punished because the freak can’t use her legs.”

  She’d raised her voice enough to gain the attention of half the kids in the parking lot. If she was truly embarrassed of me, she was definitely handling the situation the wrong way. Juliette obviously thought so, too. She glared at her sister and walked around the car to drop the keys in Anastasia’s hand.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled when Juliette climbed into the back and pulled the seat back so that I could sit down.

  “Whatever.”

  Anastasia looked at us both, then shook her head in disgust. After slipping into the driver’s seat, she gave her hair a flip and glanced at her sister in the rearview mirror. “I can’t believe you just gave her what she wants. Are you going to sit back there every day for the rest of the year?”

  “Would you just go, already?” Juliette snapped. “People are staring.”

  The ride home was silent, save for the Top 40 pop on the radio. Jennifer was home and waiting to greet us with huge smiles and a million questions. I wanted to go straight to my room and stay there until tomorrow, but my stomach won the battle against my willpower. I hadn’t eaten breakfast or lunch, and I was going to be sick if I didn’t get some food in me.

  “How was your first day?” Jennifer asked the three of us as we all wandered into the kitchen.

  Deciding she really only cared about her daughters, I let them field the questions and headed straight for the fridge. “It was a nightmare,” Anastasia grumbled behind me. “Mom, she just walked around like a zombie, even though people kept laughing and pointing at her and stuff. It was like she had some nasty disease. She sat down in the cafeteria at lunch, and the kids at her table scattered like cockroaches. The place was packed—like, every seat was taken—but nobody would sit by her. She had the whole table all to herself. It was so embarrassing.”

  Unable to hold my temper in anymore, I slammed the fridge shut and turned around. “It was embarrassing for you?”

  “Um, duh,” Anastasia sneered. “Everyone knows you live with us. They kept asking us why our stepsister was such a freak all day. It takes you a hundred years to get anywhere, and you wore long-sleeves and tights even though it’s, like, eighty-five degrees outside.”

  Juliette scoffed. “What else was she supposed to do? You’ve seen her legs.”

  I couldn’t tell if she was defending me or insulting me, but Jennifer seemed to think it was the former because she nodded as if she agreed. “Ana, show a little compassion. How would you feel if you had to walk around school with a limp and look the way she does?”

  My jaw dropped. If this was her idea of sticking up for me, I’d rather she didn’t. But she was so clueless I couldn’t even say anything or get angry at her. What would be the point?

  Jennifer flashed me her most sympathetic smile. “It’s fine to wear the long-sleeves and tights if they make you more comfortable, Ella.”

  Gee, I felt so much better now that I had her approval.

  “Oh! That reminds me.” Jennifer’s face lit up with excitement and she pointed a finger at me. “I got something for you while I was out shopping today.”

  Both Anastasia and Juliette threw me startled, questioning looks as Jennifer disappeared upstairs to her bedroom, but I just shrugged them off. I had no idea what she was talking about. I grabbed a V8 juice and a string cheese from the fridge and sat down at the counter.

  Jennifer was back before I finished my snack, and she had several small bags in her hands. “I’ve been thinking a lot about your scars,” she said as she plopped an ocean of cosmetic products in front of me. “I’m in the modeling business, you know, so beauty and skin care are kind of my forte. I talked to a bunch of my friends, and I got you some creams, oils, and moisturizers that are supposed to really help reduce scarring.”

  I wasn’t sure how to react. The gesture was thoughtful in a weird Jennifer way. It was almost sweet, even, until Ana scoffed. “I hate to break it to you, Mom, but no cream is going to fix her.”

  I thought the same thing, but it still didn’t feel good to have it pointed out.

  Jennifer frowned at Anastasia, and then down at my scarred hand. “Well, obviously it’s not a cure or anything. You have so much scarring that it’s not going
to ever really go away, but some of these might help with all the weird blotchy patches and maybe smooth out a lot of the raised bumps. Those are really what stick out so badly. If we could smooth you over and even out the skin tone, your scars might not look so startling.”

  Oh my gosh, she thought I was hideous.

  “There’s always plastic surgery, too.”

  “Plastic surgery?” Did she really think I looked so terrible I needed surgery?

  Jennifer, completely missing the horror in my voice, nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, totally. I talked to a doctor friend of mine about you. I showed him some of your medical photos and he said—”

  “You talked to someone without asking me?” I gasped. “You showed him my pictures?”

  Jennifer flinched, startled by my outburst. “I didn’t want to say anything until I knew if he could help you. I didn’t want to get your hopes up. But, Ella, he said there are definitely things he can do to help you. You won’t always have to look as bad as you do now.”

  And that was it. I couldn’t take one more second of this conversation. “I can’t believe you did that.”

  “I was just trying to help.”

  “By telling me that I’m so ugly it’s startling, and that I need plastic surgery?”

  Anastasia choked on a laugh and muttered, “Well, it’s the truth.”

  “Anastasia!” Jennifer snapped, horrified. “Don’t you ever say something that rude again.” After glaring at her daughter, she set her frustrated gaze on me. “That’s not fair, Ella. You know that wasn’t what I meant. I just want to help you look better, and if there are things we can do—”

  “I’ve had enough surgeries, thanks.”

  Jennifer closed her eyes and reached up to rub her temple. It made me feel like a jerk. She was so tactless, but in her own twisted, insensitive way she really was trying to help me. Too exhausted after my nightmarish day to fight with her, I tried to settle down. I slipped off my stool and grabbed the bag of products she’d given me. “I’ll ask my rehab team about this stuff, okay? I have to get permission before I put anything on my skin.”