Sister Dearest

“’Backwards peep, backwards peep,
There’s blood upon the shoe;
The shoe’s too small and she behind
Is not the bride for you.’”

         

-“Cinderella,” Grimm’s Fairy Tales

         Jasmine Bonadella waltzed down the drive up to the great stone mansion on 101st street like she owned the place, which was almost true-her father owned the place. She smiled smugly at the hazel trees lining the pavement on either side as they rustled restlessly in the wind at the edge of the woods. She wriggled her shopping bags mockingly at the swaying branches and sang,
         “Shake and shake if you want, my trees, but this silver and gold is all for me!” She laughed, her voice a cruel and high-pitched sound, like a hyena, and carried her bag laden arms through the heavy wooden front door, sweeping her dark brown curls out of her face with perfectly manicured nails.
         Once inside, she jogged upstairs to her violently pink bedroom, kicking the door shut behind her. She laid the bags containing the day’s loot on her frilly pink bed and slowly sat down next to them to take off her strappy heels. She wanted to savor this moment, make it last as long as she could. It wasn’t often that everything fit into place so perfectly, so completely. To draw out the moment, she gazed lovingly at her shoes. They were one-of-a-kind, black and silver designers that were priced in the five figure range.          
         One-of-a-kind.
         She let the phrase roll around in her mind languorously. She loved those words; she loved saying them to the less fortunate girls at school, her dowdy teachers, the maids, her stepmother. Hell, she loved saying them to anyone nearby, whether they were listening or not because everyone knew what they meant. Only she had them, because only she was worthy of them. She turned the shoes over in her hands for a bit longer, then tossed them aside. They hit the pink wall with a thud and fell to the floor. Gorgeous and expensive or not, they didn’t matter anymore. She had something better now.
         There was a special reason for her little shopping excursion that morning, not that she needed one. It was October 30th, and Jasmine’s stupid (but useful) best friend and stepsister Betsy was throwing the biggest Halloween costume party ever that night while their parents were away. The fete was invitation only, and invitations went only to the seniors in the city’s best private high schools. And even then, there were two types of invitation. For the rich, beautiful, and deserving guests, the invites truthfully said that the theme was royalty, and to come dressed as kings and queens and knights and princesses, but to wear a mask, so no one could see who you were. For the moronic masses, the invites said to come dressed as a hideous animal, but not to cover your face so that people could tell who you were and no one could sneak in. At the stroke of midnight the boy and girl with the best costumes would be crowned Emperor and Empress and all would have to obey their rule until morning ended the night’s fun.
         Of course, Betsy thought of none of this and only knew about half of it. Jasmine had come up with the idea and sweetly offered to do all the invitations by herself. She’d even convinced Betsy to get dressed at a friend’s house and let Jasmine take care of all the décor. That way, Jasmine could ensure that Betsy came dressed as a pig (or whatever other beast Jasmine thought of for her, the thoughtless moron) and the annoying stepsister would be turned away in shame from her own house like the rest of the animals, by the bouncers Jasmine conveniently forgot to mention were being hired to keep the trash on the sidewalk. Jasmine would then be free to take her crown as empress and her chosen emperor would be out of Betsy’s greasy clutches, free for the taking.
         Ah, her emperor. Jasmine knew exactly who was going to be standing by her side, for there was only one boy worthy of being wrapped around her perfect finger. And she had every intention of doing just that with him.
         His name was Jacob Beck, and he was the wealthy, gorgeous, immensely popular son of a well-respected senator. He had short bleached blond hair, sparkling blue eyes, and pecs like you wouldn’t believe. His only downfall was an annoying habit of caring about improving the lives of less fortunate people, doing charity work, and adopting homeless animals. Fortunately for Jasmine though, it would be a simple task to cleanse him of that Good Samaritan crap after she won him over at the party, and then he would be her perfect man. Perfect and all hers.
         As she pictured her future beau’s face, the phone rang, snapping her out of her reverie. Jasmine snatched it up off the bedside table and almost growled into the receiver in irritation. What moron would dare bother her at a time like this? Luckily she caught her self just in time to ask serenely,
         “Hello? This is Miss Jasmine Bonadella.”
         “Hi, Sis! It’s Betsy!” Of course. “Did you finish your shopping?”
         “Yes, I just got back home. I found the perfect costume!” Duh, I’ve finished you loser; why else would I be home? “This party is going to be a blast! Have you decided what to wear?”
         “Oh, well, I’ve been brainstorming with Laura and we can’t decide if I should be a sheep or a wolf. What do you think?”
         I think “sheep” describes you perfectly. Can’t you think for yourself in the least? “I think a wolf sounds like a great idea! Since it’ll be the full moon, you can even howl! That would be so cool! Come on, let me hear it!”
         “Arf-Arf-Awwwwoooooooo! Ha, ha! Well, do think Jake will like it?”
         “He’ll love it! Alright, I’ve really got to go! Bye now!” Jasmine popped the phone back down with an audible “click,” cutting of Betsy’s farewell.
         “’Do you think Jake will like it?’” she sneered mockingly. “I swear, if she utters my man’s name one more time I will gouge her eyes out and laugh! There is no way she will ever be good enough for him! And there is no way she will steal anything from me!”          
         Angered beyond her limit, she grabbed the nearest object within reach--the phone-and flung it at the wall above her discarded shoes with a bang. Rather than calm her down though, the jarring noise unnerved her even more, so she stomped out of her room and towards the kitchen, hoping something sweet would settle her mind.

         Meanwhile, in Laura’s lace and pillow filled room, Betsy set down another phone much more gently than her vicious step-sister. Behind her, Laura sat on a poofy purple bean bag chair, marveling at two beautiful white gowns spread out on the floor at her feet.
         “Wow,” the curly haired brunette said, “I can’t believe you really fooled her. She’s so terrible, trying to humiliate you like that. I mean, you’re her own sister, even if you’re not related by blood!”
         “It’s because she’s jealous,” Betsy replied, sweeping her pin-straight, mahogany hair aside as she sat down next to her friend. “She wants to go out with Jake Beck, but she knows I’ve been trying to get him to notice me forever, and she doesn’t want to look bad, so she pretends to help me. I know I’d be much better for him than her. We were made for each other. We like all the same things, have all the same interests. She’d try to change him as soon as she got her claws into the poor guy.”
         “Wow,” Laura repeated, “You must have it so tough, having to live with her.”
         “It’s not so bad,” Betsy sighed, hugging her knees. “She might be mean, but I’ll come through in the end. After all, I’ve bought my dress for the prince’s ball, you’ve kindly provided a pumpkin chariot, and Andy gave us two real invitations—what does that make him?”
         “The talking French mouse with the key?”
         “Yeah! So all that’s left is for me to go sweep Jake off his feet, right?”
         “You’re a modern day Cinderella!” The two girls laughed loudly and rolled off their chairs onto the floor.

         In the Bonadella mansion, Jasmine’s sour mood was getting worse, even as her sister’s got better. She rounded the corner and slammed right into Marian, the portly maid.
         “Ouch! Marian! Watch where you’re going!”
         “I’m sorry, Miss. Let me help you up.” Marian lent Jasmine a stubby hand and pulled her to her feet. “Oh! You had your hair done Miss! It looks very pretty! You’re just as beautiful as your mother!”
         That little comment put Jasmine over the edge. “SHUT UP! YOU ARE NOT PAID TO BLATHER ON ABOUT MY STUPID MOTHER! DO NOT COMPARE ME TO HER! GET OUT OF MY FACE!” Her outburst sent Marian scurrying off down the hallway and out of sight like a frightened rodent. Feeling considerably satisfied with the reaction, Jasmine took a few deep breaths and went on her way.
         Digging through the freezer, Jasmine found a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and settled herself down at the kitchen counter with a spoon. With each chilling bite, she felt her fiery anger slowly ebb away.
         How dare Marian mention Jasmine’s mother in front of her face? Jasmine hated that floozy. First she spent all of Jasmine’s childhood criticizing her, then she decides that Jasmine and her father aren’t good enough, so she runs off with a man half her age. Now Jasmine was stuck with Betsy and a pretty blond doofus. Jasmine would never accept being on par with that woman. Jasmine was far more superior. And her success during the night’s revel would prove that to everyone, once and for all.
         Jasmine polished off her ice cream with a smile, and headed back to her room to get ready. In only a couple hours, the fun would begin.

         Only half an hour until showtime, Jasmine twirled in front of her full length mirror and giggled at her own glorious beauty. She looked every bit the lovely queen, dressed in a purple silk gown decorated with real gold and silver. She had gold and silver earrings, gold and silver necklaces, and best of all, the most perfect, tiny slippers, coated in small gold and silver gems. No one was going to outshine her tonight, or any other night. It was truly amazing what a father’s credit card could do in only a few hours of binge shopping.
         Jasmine spun every which way, watching her perfect reflection sparkle and shimmer.
         Getting dizzy though, she stopped, letting her beautiful curls come to rest around her shoulders. She had thought about putting them up, but it was such a waste. Plus it made her look old. She wanted to be a young and lovely queen, not an aging queen with twenty kids who’d outlived eight husbands.
         She picked up her skirts and swept downstairs to the dining hall where the games would soon begin.

         With the party getting well under way, Jasmine couldn’t help but smile at herself. She was a genius. There was no other word for it. At least fifteen losers in animal costumes were crying or complaining while being laughed at on the street, Jacob had arrived ten minutes ago, looking spectacular, and every sign was pointing towards Jasmine being crowned beside her prince charming.
         There was only one thing missing: Betsy.
         That little witch was late, and Jasmine was starting to get impatient. She was itching to humiliate that boy-thief in front of everyone.
         Just then, a series of gasps and whistles coming from the doorway caught Jasmine’s attention. When she walked over to investigate, the scene from a nightmare stretched out before her eyes.
         Betsy had arrived, but she was neither a wolf nor a sheep, nor any sort of animal. She was a princess, dressed in white; a soft white strapless gown, with dark blue ribbons criss-crossing the bodice, white ballet slippers on her feet, and her hair tied up in blue and white bows. She the devil, dressed as a perfect angel.
         Instantly, Jasmine’s sister was blocked from site as admirers flocked around her. As they ooed and aahed, Jasmine felt herself go red in the face. This was her night! How dare Betsy ruin it!? And even worse, Jacob was among the smiling faces surrounding that traitorous, fake, horrible woman!
         As Betsy slowly worked her way through the crowd and into the dinging hall, she caught Jasmine's eye and smiled, slyly. Jasmine glared and ground her teeth in response. Betsy thought she'd won already, but they'd see about that come midnight, when Halloween really started.
         Turning her face sharply away from Betsy, Jasmine soften her features and strode smoothly up to Jacob, looking for all the world like prince charming in his blue suit and red cape, sparkling with gold accessories.
         "Hello Jacob," Jasmine smiled, gently touching his shoulder, "Would you care to dance?"
         "I'd love to, right after I've finished my dance with Betsy. She asked me first."
         "Oh, alright. I'll be waiting for you, then. Have fun, and watch your toes; she's terrible at the waltz! Ha, ha !"
         "I will! You two have really thrown a great party! You guys make quite a team! I'll be back!"
         Jasmine had to keep herself from stomping the ground in rage as he waved and walked away. She was too late! Besty had gotten to him first, and now Jasmine was going to have to work extra hard to raise herself up even more, and undo any damage Betsy might cause. She watched the two of them laugh and spin out on the makeshift dance floor and wished her gaze was hot enough to melt her sister on the spot.
         It seemed to take forever before one song faded into the next and Jacob managed to break away from Betsy and walk back to Jasmine where he belonged. Jasmine wasted no time in taking Jacob's offered hand an half-dragging him out on the dance floor. This was going to be harder than expected.

         It was ten minutes to midnight, and the votes were being tallied. Jasmine had only gotten to dance with Jacob twice, versus Betsy's three times, and she was not happy. She leaned against the wall next to a large window looking down on the woods surrounding the mansion and silently fumed as she waited for news of her fate.
         "Well, don't you look cheery," Betsy teased, sidling up to block Jasmine's view out the window. "I guess the feeling of impending doom would sour my mood as well, if I'd put so much effort into a futile venture and failed miserably."
         "Get out of my face!" Jasmine snapped. "If I hear your grating squawk one more time, I am going to vomit!"
         "Well that's certainly rude! I hope you won't start talking like that around Jake when he chooses me over you. I don't want my boyfriend treated like that."
         "You're delusional! Now shut up; they're announcing my victory."
         James, Jasmine's favorite butler, stepped onto the center of the dance floor, holding a microphone in one hand, and a sheet of paper in the other.
         "Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen," the old man huffed, "But tonight's Emperor and Empress are...Jacob Beck and Allison Sampson! Congratulations! Please come accept your crowns!"
         Everyone cheered as Jacob and a pretty red-head laughed and hugged as the crowns were placed upon their heads. Everyone except Jasmine and Betsy, who couldn't believe what they were seeing.
         As Jasmine watched Jacob kiss Allison's cheek and ask her to dance, she couldn't take it any more. She tore through the guests, wrenched open the front door, ran across the lawn and hid herself in the darkness of the forest around her house, so that no one would see her tears.
         "This is all your fault, you know!" An angry voice spat from behind her in the shadows. In a rustle of leaves and brush, Betsy stepped into sight. Even in all of her pure white clothes, she was the epitome of a livid demon looking for revenge.
         "My fault!" Jasmine sobbed. "If you had just stayed away like I wanted, none of this would have ever happened! I hate you! you've ruined everything! Now I'll never have Jacob, I'll never be able to prove myself, and I'll be a laughingstock! I will never forgive you for this, you ugly cow!"
         At Jasmine's words, Betsy's face darkened. Quick as lightning, she grabbed a fallen branch off of the ground and swung it at Jasmine as hard as she could, shreiking like a banshee.
         "Don't you DARE insult me! You have no idea how hard I've worked for this day! if anyone here's to be hated, it's you!"
         Jasmine took off running through the trees, tearing her dress on thorns and twigs, scratching her face on branches. No matter which way she turned, Betsy was close at her heels, swinging her chunk of oak like a club. Seeing that running was of no use, Jasmine broke off a weapon of her own and spun on her heel to face her step-sister.
         "Stay away from me! I'll kill you!" Jasmine screamed, backing up against the trunk of an old hazel tree.
         "You think I care!?" Betsy bellowed out a fearsome war-cry and sprinted at Jasmine like a runaway train. Jasmine swung wildly, trying to fend off Betsy's blows. She landed a hit to Betsy's side, and took one to the eye. the two of them struggled frantically and desperately against each other, slowing as their limbs tired.
         Finally, Jasmine's branch snapped in half, and she was forced to flee again. besty followed close behind her. Jasmine turned left and right, darting between older and older trees as she passed into unknown territory. Chancing a quick look back at her ever-present pursuer, she tripped, and gasping, fell into a dense thorn bush.
         The bush was large, and full of weaving vines; the more Jasmine struggled to get free, the more entrapped she became. A cruel laugh echoed through the night above her, and Jasmine tryed to look to where Betsy's voice was coming from, but no matter how wide she opened her eyes, all she could see was black. Confused, she felt her face; it was soaked in warm blood from many deep scratches. She had been blinded. She was blind.
         Again, Betsy laughed, "It's fitting that someone who valued nothing but looks and beauty, will never see again! This is what you get for being so vain!"
         Back at the mansion, surrounded by voices and music, none of the dancers heard Jasmine's scream reverberate through the night.