Cindy-Ella

Prologue: Rudy Gonzalez

--

"You're late."

It was the first thing I heard when I walked into the house. No, "Hello, how was your day?" or "Would you like anything to eat after your long, hard day at school?" or even a "How are you?" Parents. Psh. They don't know how much their own children have to put up with.

I rolled my eyes and dropped my backpack on the floor next to the couch and slipped off my shoes. "Sorry, I was talking to Libby."

My mother strolled into the room, dressed in an elegant black pin-stripe suit and two-inch high heels. Her dark hair was pulled up in a classic twist and she was applying lipstick while peering into a compact mirror. "Libby?"

I stared at her for a moment. "Libby, mother. My best friend…since kindergarten. You see her everyday. Libby, Libby, Libby-"

"Oh, alright. The girl with the dark skin and headphones on all the time?"

"That would be the one."

"Ah." She snapped the compact shut and smiled with me with newly made-up lips. "I have an interview!" She squealed.

I forced a smile to my face. "Good for you mom…uh, where?"

"I'm going to be a secretary at that one law office downtown."

"Secretary? At a law office?" I asked, incredulous. I swear, that woman changes careers every other week. Last month, she had been working as a yoga trainer at the local gym, and the week before that she had worked at a pet store; coming home everyday smelling like dog food and bird crap. Forgive me, but it was just a little strange seeing her with make-up on and wearing stilettos.

She narrowed her eyes at my. "Yes. Is there something wrong with that?"

I held up my hands in surrender and shook my head. "No, nothing at all. I was just wondering what the perks are of being a secretary in the first place." I shrugged.

"I'll have you know that I know plenty of people who have jobs as being a secretary. And they enjoy it a lot." She defended, striding into the room completely and grabbing her purse off the table beside the couch.

"Uh, since when do you know people who are secretaries? Everyone you know are either rich and snobby company owners or apartment living pet freaks. Since when are you in-between?" I laughed.

She glared at me. "Since now." She sniffed.

I rolled my eyes again. "Yeah, whatever. Good luck."

Her attitude changing just like that, she smiled brightly at me. "Thank you, sweetheart. Now, there are leftovers in the fridge when you get hungry and make sure the doors are locked so no one comes into the house in the middle of the night and steals our stuff." She walked over to me and kissed me on the forehead.

"Uh, mom…we live in Retroville. No one does burglaries anymore. And just how long is this interview going to take?" I asked suspiciously, crossing my arms.

Her eyes shifted nervously, smiling at me before turning away and striding to the door. "I might meet up with a few friends afterward." She replied stiffly.

"Friends."

"Yes, friends. I have friends, Cynthia."

I cringed. Why couldn't she just call me Cindy, like everyone else? "Friends." I said again, in the same flat voice.

She sighed and turned to me angrily. "I'm meeting up with Mike."

Ah, the answer I was trying to get in the first place. Mike. Mike the CEO of that one-company-no-one-knows-about. Mike the Rich Guy. Mike the Red Convertible Owner. Mike, the buff, tall, handsome, mysterious MAN. Mike, the "love of my mother's life." Mike, Mike, Mike…

"I don't like him."

My mother just smiled at me wearily. "I'm sorry, honey. I wish I could convince you otherwise. But I'm in love with him, darling; I simply cannot give him up." I could practically see the hearts fill up in her eyes. Disgusting. "I won't be too late!" She waved to me and opened the front door, stepping onto the porch before glancing back at me meaningfully. "And Cynthia?"

I raised a brow. "Yes?"

"No boys."

I glared at her.

"Just leave, mother!"

--

All my life, I had been treated like an adult.

When I was 9, I was left home alone for the first time. My mom had gone to a party, and the babysitter was supposed to show up right after she left…

…but she had never shown up. Since I had no way of contacting anyone but the fire department and the police station, but I had decided that I could take care of myself, instead of forcing my mother to come home. I hadn't like authority then, and I still don't enjoy those stupid assemblies police officers do every year warning us about "drugs" and "rapers" and "murderers" and etc, etc, etc.

Anyway, I had taken a closed bag of potato chips and ate the whole thing in one sitting. I watched all those late night re-runs The Cosby Show and Little House on the Prairie. I thought the whole experience was fun, and looking back, I realized how responsible I was at 9. Any other nine-year-old would've freaked out, or tore up the whole house. But no, I had even went to bed before 10:30.

And the next morning, my mom was sleeping in her bed, hungover and dazed, while I went about my usual Saturday routine.

She never knew what had happened.

And I never told.

But back then I thought it was normal for parents to leave their children home alone to find themselves things to eat and ways to entertain themselves. But of course, it wasn't normal, it was good parenting, and it probably wasn't even legal. And my mom was a good mom; she was just clueless and naïve and absent-minded. She got pregnant at a young age, and married even younger. Divorced by age 24, and countless boyfriends and flings afterwards.

Until she met Mike, that is.

In some ways, Mike had changed her life for the good. She didn't go out and drink as often, and at least she was working; our electricity hadn't been shut off due to unpaid bills in months. Sure, she hadn't gone to college. But she could definitely hold her own in the business world. And she really seemed to be happy with Mike, whether I liked him or not.

To me, Mike was just another nameless one-night stand. I expected him to disappear down the road in his flashy car any day now, leaving my mother heartbroken and miserable, just like every man before him. He was a little sleazy and way too smooth; always trying to buy me over with unwanted gifts and comments. He was shady, though, I could just feel it.

I wouldn't be surprised if he had three other clueless, sweet, absent-minded girlfriends other than my dearest mother.

And that little fact would break her fragile heart.

So yes, in a way, I have been the adult in my family. The mature one. The caretaker. And I was used to it. It was my role; and I was the worrier, the responsible one, the dependable one.

But when is it my turn to be a teenager?

--

"Ah, we have a new kid here! His name is-"

"Wait, don't me. It's Rudy Gonzalez, and he's a foreign exchange student from…hm, Mexico City? No, wait; Madrid."

Libby stared at me for a moment with a confused expression on her face. It was between fourth and fifth period, right after Biology II and before Calculus. I had just been switching books at my locker when Libby had run up to me, too excited and talking way too fast. She narrowed her eyes at me and shook her head. "Uh, no…where do you come up with this stuff?" She asked, incredulous.

I just shrugged and slammed my locker. "I spend a lot of time alone." I smiled, a little bitter.

She sighed and her hands on her hips. "Anyway, as I was saying; we have a new kid and his name is Jimmy." She nodded her head firmly, looking satisfied.

I forced a smile. "Uh, great, I guess…?" I snorted.

Libby frowned. "Well the guy's a genius! Or at least, that's what I've heard."

"You hear a lot of things." I argued.

"So? Most of them are true…" She trailed off when she saw the "are you effing kidding me?" look on my face. "Alright, most of them aren't true. But this one is! Um, he moved in right across from you, didn't you notice?"

I paused. "Huh? Across the street?"

"That would be the one."

"Shit, how come I didn't notice?" That was beyond stupid of me.

Libby shrugged. "Hey, you're busy. New job and all. School. I can't blame ya I guess." She waved to me before running in the opposite direction, to her next class.

I sighed and shook my head, starting on my way towards Calculus. Wonderful. Just wonderful.

--

I hated getting new neighbors. The house right across from mine had been vacant for years, and it was very strange for me not to notice the obvious renovations that had been done and the moving vans parked in the street. Busy? Hell, I'm not that busy.

The last time I had gotten new neighbors, it had been the people who live right next to me; the Hendersons. And boy, were they annoying. A family of four, all cute and happy together when they moved in. I figured life wouldn't change much after they moved in, but of course I was WRONG. The two kids, Caitlin and Jake, were the most destructive, annoying, and disturbing children I knew. And that was saying a lot.

They played loud music, trespassed into our yard, rang our door bell and ran, knocked on my window in the middle of the night, etc, etc. It was beyond aggravating. The parents didn't teach any discipline whatsoever, and they got away with whatever they wanted.

Plus, my mother was either not home or completely oblivious; so she didn't do anything about it. And who is going to listen to a 16-year-old high school student, when I myself am guilty of playing music too loudly? But whatever. I'm not as bad as them.

Anyway, I'm just hoping that these neighbors aren't as annoying or irritating, but I have a feeling I'll get a break this time.

But I hope I didn't just jinx myself.

And I was walking home, a little disappointed over not seeing the new kid in any of my classes or even lunch (I was one of the smartest people in school; so every class I had was honors or advanced. Where was this guy; if he was a genius, hm?). I stopped just in front of my house on the sidewalk, watching with interest as the movers hauled tables and lamps and chairs into the house, one by one.

But what really caught my eye was the tiny little shed beside the house, and the boy who was inspecting it. At least, it looked like he was inspecting it, by the way he was opening the door and closing it, walking around inside before coming back outside and running his hand along the wood.

What a strange person.

I hadn't even noticed that I had started walking towards their house, almost instinctively. Like I was just gravitating towards him. Bad, bad thought. I didn't even know this guy.

And you guys think that if I even noticed myself walking across the street that I would notice the car heading down the road at about 65 mph?

--

Um, we'll how this goes. It's a little different. I probably should update password accepted, but I had to write this. The title "Cindy-Ella" isn't even mine; it's the title of a real book.

A book I haven't even read, but a book all the same.

Full summary:

There are no evil stepsisters. Just the Ice Queen, that-one-guy-who-seems-unattainable, The Other Guy Who Won't Let Go, one frustrating mother, and a broken heart. This is no fairy-tale, just one painful reality trip.