Slippers

By Abigail Falanga

I was nearly done raking the lawn when someone plump, perky, and purple-clad appeared in a gust right there, scattering leaves.

“Who are you?” I wielded the rake.

She shook a leaf from her skirts. “Your fairy godmother, dear.”

“Fairy godmother—? But I didn’t know fairies were real.”

“That explains your rude surprise. I suppose part of it is my fault, for neglecting you so long. But I thought I’d make it up to you by sending you to the ball in style. Dress, hair, Lamborghini, the works.”

“What ball?” I gasped as an elegant asymmetrical gown of diaphanous silk cinched about me.

“The ball for Camden Prince’s birthday, of course. Only the most dashing, eligible bachelor in town, with a trust fund worth billions. Just the thing to cheer you up!”

A sleek car appeared out of nowhere, and she nudged me into it.

“But I’m already happy.”

“You can’t possibly be, in those old work shoes.” The fairy godmother waved her wand. A pair of supportive, comfortable glass slippers encased my feet. “Now, get along! The directions are in the GPS. And you know the rules…”

“Be back before midnight.” I fastened the seatbelt, playing along.

I drew near the Prince estate—driving through a manicured woodland that made my high-end neighborhood look like the slums—before my thoughts calmed enough to be coherent. I’m looking forward to this. It’s nice to be out on my own for a change.

I pulled up and mounted the steps of the exquisite mansion buzzing with partygoers, fearing I might look out-of-place. I glimpsed my reflection in a mirrored door, and was more than reassured. I looked nice—fantastic, even. My weariness from the day’s work was gone. The gown set off my slim curves. My hair was perfect.

Giggling, I entered a ballroom crowded with the ultra-rich. Dancing, good food— I’m going to enjoy this break from routine.

I turned around, mouth full of canape, and there he was. Camden Prince. Chiseled jaw, strong shoulders…

“Hi,” he said.

“Mmmphmm!” I swallowed.

“Care to dance?” Not waiting for a response, he lifted my hand, making the bruise on my wrist protest, and swept me into a waltz. “You have a name?”

“Helena,” I whispered.

“I’m sorry, but—” He laughed a little. “—have we met before? I think I would have remembered.”

Lame line, beautiful idiot. “No, we’ve never met.”

“So, who are you with, Helena? I mean, what do you do?”

Clearly, conversation was not his strong point. “My parents were professors at the university. I’m working my way through school at the community college.”

Camden smiled with more than a touch of disdain. “The community college?”

I leveled my brows, shyness gone. “Something wrong with that?”

“Not at all,” he appeased. “What are you working toward, Helena?”

“Design. I plan to start my own business, and—”

He smirked. “You do realize how hard it is to launch a business, right?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” I pulled back. “I’ve been taking classes in business management.”

“Right. At the community college. But there are many moving parts of a market economy…”

Richsplaining? Really? How would you know as much as I do about the market economy, with your trust fund managed by highly paid professionals?

The waltz ended, and we stopped at a refreshment table as he droned on. I reached for a beer. Camden pushed it away and placed a bubbly pink cocktail in my hand. “You’ll like this better.”

So much for dreams of romance!

Long before midnight, I was back in my magical Lamborghini, driving home sans stardust.

The house was empty. My stepsisters were still out with their worthless boyfriends; their mom wouldn’t be back from her conference until after the weekend.

I stormed through the hall, fuming so much that I tripped, shattering one of the glass slippers.

What do I care? I swept it and Camden Prince out of my mind.

Two weeks later, I stared at the results of my latest test. Sixty-four percent. The instructor had scrawled, “You could have done better.”

“Of course I can do better!” My parents had taught me to study. If only I could carve out more time from taking care of the house and avoid the stress of my stepsisters’ insults and my stepmother’s cruel hands—

The doorbell rang. I wiped away a tear as I went to answer it.

Camden Prince stood on the doorstep.

I clutched the handle to keep from slamming the door in his face. As my stepmother never failed to remind me, it wasn’t my door. She had control of my assets until I was twenty-one.

“Helena!” Camden smiled sheepishly. “I’m glad it’s you.”

“Yes?” I inquired, impersonal as the maid I looked.

“I came to apologize. I was having a terrible day, but that’s no excuse for behaving like a jerk. I’m sorry.”

An apology? Unexpected, but not quite enough to earn a second chance. “Is that all?”

“I also came to offer you a microloan. Ten thousand dollars to get you and your business running.”

“I don’t need your help,” I flared.

“That black eye argues otherwise.”

My hand flew to my face. “That’s nothing. It’s just—”

“None of my business, I know. But it matches the bruises on your arm the other day. Look, I’m not offering you anything or asking anything of you, other than the chance to help you build a life and career for yourself. There’s nothing wrong with accepting help out of a terrible situation. Everyone would respect you for doing it.”

“Before I say anything—” I drew a shaky breath. “—how did you find me?”

Camden chuckled. “When my fairy godfather finally showed up this morning, he let me choose any gift I wanted, to make up for being late. I asked to find you—the most beautiful, intelligent, capable woman I had ever met. Turns out, magic glass slippers are traceable. Fairy GPS.”

Can you guess which song from the 1970's inspired this story? Share in the comments!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Abigail Falanga may be found in New Mexico creating magic in many ways – with fabric, food, paper, music, and especially with words! She’s loved fantasy ever since playing out epic adventures of swords, fairies, and monsters with her siblings, and loved sci-fi since her dad’s stories around the dinner table. Besides sharing mad little stories on Havok, she is busily trying to launch approximately five hundred novels into the world. Some of them are even finished!

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