Page 3 of Cinderella Is Faking It

Her hands snaked around my hips, and I tensed, but then they disappeared into the folds of the skirt. “No way! It has pockets!” I pushed my hands into them the second Cordelia’s were gone. Best. Dress. Ever.

“Here, you should take this, too. It’s not worth much, but I bought it specifically to match the dress.” She took off her necklace and dropped it into my hand. It was gold with a single blue pearl pendant that had rested in the dip of her collar bone.

“Thank you,” I replied, mentally weighing the cost of a cab home because I was not taking the subway in a ball gown. The necklace alone would probably pay for that because it sure didn’t feel like costume jewelry when I fastened it.

“Can you give me a two-minute head-start?” Cordelia smiled and backed towards the door. She’d washed off her ruined makeup, and looked younger now, just around my age.

“Of course,” I nodded, “I’ll just keep looking at myself in the mirror for a bit.”

“Hey, Delilah?” I winced. The words too close to that goddamn song. Cordelia continued, unfazed: “Thank you so much. I hope you get that job.”

My insides tightened again. I’d just forgotten about that whole thing. “Thank you. Get home safe.”

Cordelia disappeared from the bathroom, and I sighed and took my phone out, just to see that I’d missed two calls and three texts from Parker, asking how it had gone and what kind of pizza I wanted. I texted him back to apologize and told him that I’d be running late, and that I wanted Hawaiian pizza - as if I’d ever ordered any other kind. Just because he didn’t like pineapple, didn’t mean I’d change my mind anytime soon.

I took around 60 pictures of myself in that dress before leaving the bathroom and angling for the exit. A tall redhead with a headset stood in the middle of the hallway, clipboard hugged tightly to her chest. That would likely be one of the event planners Cordelia had mentioned.

“Okay Joey, if she’s a no-show, that’s everyone,” she barked into her headset before her attention landed on me, “halt, I got eyes on her.”

Eyes on me?

“Ms. Montgomery.”

Oh no. Right dress, wrong person. “No, no, I was just leaving.”

TWO

“This way please.The first course will be served in less than two minutes.” The woman pressed a hand into the back of my waist and pushed me forward. “I got her, Joey,” she hissed into her headset with all the bravado of someone who had found a wanted war criminal.

“Sorry, I think there’s been a mistake. I’m not supposed to be-”

“Nonsense Ms. Montgomery, you’ll have a great time. Let me put this in coat check, room 105.” My bag was taken from me and I was pushed through a side entrance into the school’s dining hall and lost my train of thought. I’d googled the hell out of Truman, of course, but that didn’t compare to walking under the centuries-old, vaulted ceilings, painted in pale shades of blue with clouds streaking the space. The splendor didn’t end there. Two dozen round tables with decadent floral pieces, cream tablecloths and golden chairs dotted the room and its center had been cleared as a dance floor.

The place was decked out like an expensive wedding, except every woman wore a gown prettier than the next one.

“Here, sit.” The event planner shuffled me into a seat between an older lady with a sharp chin-length red bob and some guy in a suit, whose toned back was turned to me, so all I could see was his neatly coiffed thick black hair. I stood out like a sore thumb simply based on the fact that my last haircut had been two months ago, and my hair was in two perpetual waves from being pushed behind my ears. I’d had it to a bob similar to the lady next to me, but it had since grown to skim my shoulders.

“As I live and breathe,” the woman exclaimed as I sat down. She ran a hand over her very chunky diamond necklace, but my attention wandered past her to where the event planner was positioning herself in front of the door like a security guard. “Cordelia Montgomery.”

The other six people swiveled in their chairs to stare at me. Oh god, oh god, oh no. This was bad. Alright, Delilah, be polite and get out. “Good evening, everyone. Unfortunately, I think there’s been a mix-up.”

“I believe that’s my fault.” The low, rumbling voice dripped a honey shiver down my spine.

I turned to the man sitting on my other side and forgot to breathe for a moment. Some people were just pretty on another level. Pretty sprang to mind because of his long lashes and the high cheekbones. But then his nose was just a little crooked… coupled with his tan skin and a dark, trimmed stubble, maybeprettywasn’t the right word. He looked like he belonged in a perfume commercial. “…so I messed with the seating arrangements.”

Ohmygod. I had totally missed the start of that sentence. Before I could reply, servers flurried around us and placed bowls of soup in front of everyone. I took the chance to scan the room. There was another door at the back of the room, the main door, but my eyes caught on the person sitting at the table right in front of it. The principal. Who had just seen me in a blouse and jeans. Shit. I quickly whipped back around, hoping he wouldn’t recognize me by the back of my head.

“I must recommend you finish your soup, Cordelia - can I call you Cordelia? - because they never prepare the meat right at these small dinners. You’d think the smaller the crowd, the less overwhelmed the cook, right?” The lady next to me tattled on and my eyes dropped to her place card. Rachel Sallow. Considering the event, likely tied to the Sallow Sweets company. My father had spent 20 years in their packaging department. Probably no point in telling her that he perfected the crinkle of their chocolate wrappers.

“Thank you. That’s good advice,” I said, trying to sound somewhat like a polite socialite who belonged at this kind of event. I had no experience with these sorts of people outside the pages of my books.

The man to my left chuckled but didn’t meet my eyes when I looked over. Ass. What did he think was so amusing? He was in his mid-thirties and dressed like a penguin for the benefit of… of… I glanced around, trying to pinpoint who exactly benefitted from this benefit dinner. Orphans? Endangered animals?

“Not a fan of soup either?” he asked.

“Hmm.” I had other things to worry about than my soup getting cold. It wasn’t evenmysoup. Oh god, someone here had to know the real Cordelia. I’d get kicked out as an impostor and the principal would see and then I could kiss even my last chance at a job here goodbye. My heart was fluttering fast enough to be painful. I pinched the back of my right hand in my lap, trying to snap myself out of my own thoughts, but it didn’t work. Of course, my good deed didn’t go unpunished. Of course, I had to end up at the most ridiculously lavish dinner under all the wrong circumstances. Could I end up in jail if I ate soup that I didn’t pay for? No, wait, you didn’t pay for the food at these events. You paid by seat. Did that mean I could land in jail just for sitting here? My spine straightened, detaching itself from the chair.

I jumped when a hand folded over mine. I looked down. Between all the fabric of my skirt and the thick tablecloth, the man next to me had slipped his hand over my fingers, stopping me from pinching any harder.

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