Cinderella: Ninja Warrior (20 page)
Read Cinderella: Ninja Warrior Online
Authors: Maureen McGowan
Tags: #Fairy Tales & Folklore, #Juvenile Fiction, #Adaptations, #Interactive Adventures
But even shaded, his blue eyes flashed, and her belly flipped. To calm it, she focused on the action down on the arena floor.
He moved beside her, so close that their arms brushed, and bent toward her so that his lips were right next to her ear. “If you don’t enter, how will you win a dance with the prince?”
“As if I could go to a ball dressed like this.”
“If you win, I’m sure the prince will arrange something suitable.” His voice was deep, but instead of calming her belly, it made it dance. He seemed to know a lot about the prince.
She kept her eyes down on the field where the first set of ten contestants were walking across a tightrope ten feet off the ground while wizards below them threw balls of fire at their feet.
“Oh.” Her heart rose to her throat as one of the contestants, a gangly teenage boy, fell off the rope and landed on his side on the ground. “That must have hurt.” One of the wizards rushed to his side, but it appeared the boy was out of the competition. She glanced up to the scoreboard, and one of the numbers, listed in shimmering lights, disappeared.
“Don’t worry,” Ty said. “That wizard is a healer. The boy will be fine.”
“I hope so. He must be so disappointed.”
“Doesn’t look like the prince’s type.” Ty chuckled and bumped her hip softly with hers.
“What’s with you and your prince obsession?” Cinderella asked. “I only wanted to enter to win the lessons with the royal wizard. I told you, I don’t care about a dance with the prince.”
Ty’s head twitched. “It’s not
just
a dance, you know. The prince will be choosing his bride.”
just
a dance, you know. The prince will be choosing his bride.”
“Like marriage is such a great prize.” Cinderella gasped as two competitors were knocked off the tightrope, one after being hit in the side by a huge fireball.
“Don’t you want to get married?” Ty ran his hand along the railing. “I mean, someday?”
He sounded hurt, and the expression on his face matched, so she turned her attention from the competition to him. “Of course I do. Someday. I’d love to be a mother.” And she’d love her children and treat them with respect. “I suppose it’d be nice to have a partner in life, too, but I plan to have some say in choosing him. No way do I want to be plucked out of a field of other girls, like a piece of fruit at the market. Don’t you think it’s kind of insulting?”
He crossed his arms over his chest.“Maybe it wasn’t the prince’s idea. Maybe he’s being forced into it.”
“That would be very sad for him.”
Ty’s face brightened, their eyes met, and she felt as though they were the only two people in the arena. The noises and sounds and smells fell away and she felt strong and confident, as if she could accomplish anything she set her mind to do.
If only she could see Ty every day, she’d surely find a way to escape. Just looking into his eyes made her feel stronger, yet nervous, all at the same time. Confused as she was by her conflicting emotions, she liked the strange feeling and never wanted it to end.
“Hey, you two!” called a voice from behind them. They turned to see a big, burly guard lumbering in their direction. “You can’t stand there.”
Ty took her hand. “Come this way. I know one of the organizers. I want to watch you win those magic lessons.”
Cinderella stood with her back to the wall in the backstage area and waited. The room was filled with dozens of young people, all holding wands at the ready and some studying spells in huge books. Her stomach stirred with excitement as Ty approached the wizard in charge, and she hoped he didn’t get kicked out of the arena for trying to help her—or worse, lose his job as a palace servant.
The wizard frowned for a moment, and a perplexed look formed on her round face, but then she smiled and nodded. It almost looked as if the wizard was about to curtsy, but then Ty reached out his hand and she stopped.
Odd—but the ways of the world outside her home were all strange and new.
Ty turned and motioned for Cinderella to approach. “You’re in, but you’ve got to hurry.” He handed her a piece of white cloth with the number 43 painted on it in bright red. “The tightrope event for the no-wand group is almost over.”
“Oh.” Cinderella held up her wand. “I’ve got a wand.”
“I see that.” Ty took her arm, bent down, and spoke softly. “How much experience do you have with that?”
“Not much, but it belonged to my mother. My real mother. And she was a very powerful wizard.”
“I’m sure she was.” Ty nodded. “You are full of surprises, Cinderella. I’ll get you a number for the other group, if you’re sure.”
“I am.” There was no sense in going back on her decision now.
Ty turned back to the wizard in charge and she handed over another number, this time with 98 painted on it. He helped her pin the number on the back of her shirt. “It’s not too late to change to the other group, you know. Are you sure you don’t want to?”
As she turned, his fingers grazed her waist and he blushed.
Her entire body tingled. “No, I’m sure.”
She wasn’t sure. Not of even one thing, and nerves buzzed inside her like bees in a hive. But having the wand in her hand felt like having her mother’s support. Besides, she told herself, using the wand, she’d turned Max from a cat into a man, and that was
huge
. Even if he’d helped, and it had been a bit of an accident.
huge
. Even if he’d helped, and it had been a bit of an accident.
Uncomfortable with her choice, she looked into Ty’s blue eyes and instantly felt calmer.
She might not be sure of her potential or talent as a wizard, she might not be sure about using the wand, she might not be sure she had any chance of winning this competition and finally gaining the skills to break free of her stepmother’s spell, but she
was
sure about Ty. She was sure he was a boy who believed in her, who cared about her in a way no one else did—or ever had—who made her feel like she belonged. Looking into his eyes, feeling the warmth of his reassuring smile, and standing next to his tall, strong body, she felt as if she could accomplish anything she wanted.
was
sure about Ty. She was sure he was a boy who believed in her, who cared about her in a way no one else did—or ever had—who made her feel like she belonged. Looking into his eyes, feeling the warmth of his reassuring smile, and standing next to his tall, strong body, she felt as if she could accomplish anything she wanted.
“Hurry,” said another wizard, robed in emerald green and not much older than her from the looks of him. He motioned to Cinderella. “You need to join the others.”
“Good luck,” Ty said. He smiled and bent down to gently place his lips against hers.
A spark of warmth and happiness shot straight from Cinderella’s lips to her heart.
When he pulled back, she raised her fingers to touch her mouth, expecting it to be changed, or on fire.
The wizard in the green robe took her arm and pulled. “Come now,” he urged her.
“Where will I find you?” Cinderella called to Ty, but he only touched the tattered cap he wore over his curls.
Now she was even more determined to win. The chance to see Ty more often—and maybe get another kiss—was an extra incentive for gaining her freedom.
The pumpkins were huge and Cinderella wondered if her stepsisters had possessed inside information, since they had been practicing all day on melons.
Another rush of relief that her stepsisters had decided to go for the beauty competition flowed through her. They, and her stepmother, were in the theater across the courtyard from the arena, no doubt primping and preening to pretty themselves for the pageant. Thank goodness they weren’t in the stands—that was one less thing to stress over. And she wasn’t short on stress, not by a long shot.
She leaned forward to peek down the row of competitors. A mixture of males and females, most looked to be in their late teens, but their ages appeared to range from as young as ten to about twenty.
A wizard in a shimmering black-and-purple-striped robe stood between the lines of contestants and pumpkins and raised his hands to silence everyone. “For their first event, the wand group must raise a pumpkin at least three inches off the surface of this bench. Each competitor must focus only on his or her own pumpkin. Interference will not be tolerated.”
Cinderella rubbed the wand between her fingers. This task would be easy. She’d lifted objects
without
a wand. Lifting them
with
a wand should be a snap. Yet her belly kept doing backflips as she watched each contestant attempt to raise a pumpkin up to the level of the red bar painted on the board behind the bench.
without
a wand. Lifting them
with
a wand should be a snap. Yet her belly kept doing backflips as she watched each contestant attempt to raise a pumpkin up to the level of the red bar painted on the board behind the bench.
After thirty-one attempts, only fourteen contestants had lifted their pumpkins high enough to pass, and there were no second chances. As soon as the pumpkin touched back down to the bench, that was it, game over, and it was on to the next contestant’s turn. Each event in the competition yielded points from the judges, but if someone scored zero on any three tasks, he or she was out.
Watching the girl next to her raise her pumpkin, anxiety overtook Cinderella, stirring her insides and making her knees tremble. To combat the trembles, she thought about Ty, about the reassurance in his eyes. She thought about Max and how he’d been watching over her all these years, even though he’d been trapped inside the body of a cat. She thought about her father and how gentle and kind he’d been. How much he’d loved her. And she thought about how she’d suffered so many indignities and injuries at her stepmother’s hand, and yet had survived.
Most of all, she thought about the mother she’d never met. Based on her father’s stories, she’d been very talented, honest, and principled—known for never using magic for her own personal gain or to hurt others—and might one day have become the royal wizard, had she lived. Pride flooded through Cinderella, expanding her chest, as she thought about being the daughter of such a woman.
The girl beside her cheered her own success, pulling Cinderella out of her memories.
Her number was called and Cinderella pointed her wand toward the bright orange gourd.
Lift,
she thought.
Lift.
This shouldn’t be that different than just using her mind. The wand was meant to enhance those abilities—provided she could control its power.
Lift,
she thought.
Lift.
This shouldn’t be that different than just using her mind. The wand was meant to enhance those abilities—provided she could control its power.
Her focus was intense, and all the sounds and smells and sights of the arena melted away until it was just her and the pumpkin, as if she were back in her garden.
She slowly raised the wand and the pumpkin rose, quickly reaching the required height. Not taking any chances, she gently set it back down. Why be a show-off? The judges hadn’t awarded any extra points to the boy who’d lifted his six feet and made it spin.
The crowd applauded her success and she soon learned that those who’d been successful—fewer than half—were moving on to a bonus round, also involving the pumpkins. This time, it wasn’t enough to simply lift the pumpkins. Each contestant had to lift his or her pumpkin from the bench, move it up and forward, and then set it down on the top of a six-foot pole with an impossibly small disk at its top. The pumpkins would barely fit on the disks, leaving no room for error.
There was no way she could she pull this off without the wand. She’d never moved anything so far, or placed it onto such a small target. She watched as the other contestants worked on their pumpkins. A tall girl, number 87 and dressed in a bright blue, loose-fitting jumpsuit, got hers right on the edge of the disk before it dropped.
Cinderella sucked in a sharp breath, her heart breaking for her competitor, but the girl thrust her wand forward, and the pumpkin stopped to hover a foot above the ground, intact.
The crowd roared its approval. Number 87 widened her stance, lifted her wand, and the pumpkin rose higher, until it was once again above the pedestal. She let it hover a few moments, sweat rising on her brow beneath her dark, tightly tied-back hair. Then 87 slowly lowered her wand, and the pumpkin came to rest on the disk.
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