Page 1 of Becoming Cinderella

Chapter One

I’m addicted.

At least, as I go over my homework it appears I’m showing signs of addiction. There’s something about dopamine being released and the limbic area in your brain controlling your emotions. I can’t say I’m exactly interested in chemical reactions in the brain, but as I prepare for an upcoming science exam, addicted is exactly how I’d describe my feelings.

Enter Jared Green. He’s the kind of tall that basketball coaches want on their team. His light blonde hair at all times is styled to perfection and his clothes are always up with the current trends. More importantly, he’s a friend to everyone and has confidence that’s hard not to be drawn to. He’s the ultimate package, hence according to my homework, my addiction.

My family moved to Utah in April of my sixth-grade year, and when my pencil broke, Jared noticed and handed me his without a word. It wasn’t until halfway through the lesson that I noticed he’d given me his only pencil.

Five years later and I’ve only fallen deeper for this boy who winks like it’s a character trait and plays with my feelings like they’re his favorite video game. Not that he realizes he’s playing with my feelings. I’ve been banished so far into the friend-zone with Jared that he barely notices I’m a girl. It was hard enough to hide my feelings when we were only classmates, but it’s been a million times worse since we both started working at Threads, a small clothing store on Center Street. On a busy day we see maybe ten customers so we have a lot of downtime for homework, mindless online quizzes, and harmless —in his mind, but torture in mine — flirting.

Jared leans towards me on the counter with a silly filter on his phone. We pull faces as they are transformed on screen to zombie-like faces. He snaps the picture and looks at it.

“Carter, something seems a little off with your eyes.” I lean over his shoulder to look at the picture, trying not to notice the scent of clean laundry I get by being this close. It has easily become my favorite scent over the years for this reason alone. “They look a little dead.”

I roll my eyes and push against his shoulder, going back to my homework. He laughs at his own joke, tossing a paper clip at my head. “Come on, that was funny!”

“I didn’t realize you were a middle-aged dad.”

“Well, that’s your problem you didn’t notice. At least my twenty-six children appreciate my jokes.”

“Twenty-six?” I turn so my back is leaning against the counter to face his green eyes filled with mischief.

He gives a firm nod. “Barbara, you know my completely devoted yet imaginary wife, and I wanted a child for every letter of the alphabet.”

There’s a slight sinking feeling in my gut. An instant reaction to feel jealous over Barbara, even though she’s imaginary. Clearly all common sense leaves me whenever Jared is involved. I hope my science class covers how to stop my supposed addiction by, well, tomorrow. It’s not like there’s a rehab for this type of thing.

“Is your third child named Carter?”

“Come on, it’s obviously Cajun. You know how I feel about Cajun fries.”

The bell chimes as two girls come in. Jared and I greet them in unison as if it’s something we practiced.

“Jinx you owe me a Dr. Pepper.” I say once the girls have wandered towards the graphic tees.

Jared reaches into his backpack and pulls one out.

I’m confused as he hands it to me. He’s told me time and time again that Dr. Pepper is gross.

“Okay, so maybe I keep one with me for emergencies. I never know when I’m going to need to bribe you or I get jinxed.” Jared explains as if reading my thoughts.

I can’t help my giddiness as I pop open the can and take a sip. He keeps one with him just for me? He acts like this isn’t as big of a deal as it definitely is.

“So listen, I need some advice.”

I set the can on the counter. “I’m all ears.”

I’m used to playing the unpaid therapist when it comes to Jared. He has a lot going on in his life with his mom being out of the picture and his dad at work more than he is at home. Jared is practically single parenting his two younger brothers and sister as well as trying to keep his grades up in order to land scholarships for college next year.

“There’s this girl,” he starts, unable to meet my eyes.

I instantly perk up. Girl drama?

The bell to the door chimes again. “Welcome in!” I turn to greet a boy in a navy baseball hat, but quickly turn my attention on Jared. “There’s this girl,” I repeat, prodding him to continue.

He rubs his hand on the back of his neck. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter.”

I don’t stop looking at him, hoping he’ll cave under my gaze. He’s still avoiding my eyes, but fortunately he still continues.

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