My mind reeling, I stepped back. “Oh my gosh,” I said, thinking back and trying to put the pieces together. All those old people, their hard earned money taken by the woman who’d made my life miserable for too many years, telling me I was poorer than the dirt I cleaned up for her. It was almost too much to comprehend.
Coach Z saw my face and took me by the arm. “Help me out here, Encantador, before she faints again.” Deke took my other hand and the two of them led me to a hay bale that sat at the edge of the finish area, off to the side of the first aid tent. I sank down, my knees weak, and looked up at them after a moment.
“She’s going to jail,” I finally said, looking at Coach Z for confirmation.
He nodded, then said, “Yes. If it were all local folks she’d scammed, maybe she’d be able to play all her cards and call in all her favors and get away with a cushy sentence or time served after a trial. But your stepmother was really good at convincing people to send her money online. She’s got victims all over the United States. The FBI is bringing federal charges.” He paused and added, “She’s going to do some hard time.”
Deke sat down next to me, still holding my hand, I noticed, my fingers tingling under his. Before I could ask, Coach Z read my mind.
“Walinski’s been at Castlewood High forever. Your dad and I had him for history back in the day. It doesn’t matter who’s sitting in the principal or vice-principal’s office; he’s the man behind the curtain that keeps our school running smoothly. Just don’t tell anyone that. He’s worked hard to get everyone to believe he’s just and end-of-the world prepper nut. He’s the one that tipped me off to the school health forms.” Coach Z paused. “A lot of people have been pulling for you behind the scenes, Norwell.”
“Coach asked me to keep an eye out for anything, too,” added Deke, his voice low. “He didn’t tell me why, though.”
“Oh,” I said, my heart sinking. I slowly pulled my fingers away from Deke’s, feeling a cold wave wash over me. “Oh,” I said again, this time firmly, trying to sound nonchalant. “Well... thanks, I guess.”
Coach Z peered down at us, his eyes lingering on my hand as I drew it back into my lap. He cleared his throat and looked back toward the petting pen barn. “Well, here comes Vicky Lewis looking for you, Deke. Again,” he said, his voice back to its usual booming volume again.
“Why?” I asked, trying to change the subject as I inched slowly away from Deke, trying not to meet his eyes.
Coach Z leaned down and put an arm around my shoulders, whispering into my left ear so Deke couldn’t hear. “Go easy on Encantador, will you? He just found out he’s not really a prince. Never was.”
Coach Z squeezed my shoulder gently. “And thirty seconds ago, he just found out the girl he’s been crushing on all season will be richer than him, too, once her dad’s estate is finalized. Heckuva way to spend your Saturday morning.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
With that, Coach Z stood up and brushed his hands, slapping his leg. “I expect to see both of you at practice this week,” he boomed. “And I mean EARLY at practice, especially for you, Norwell. No more slacking!” Then he strode off, whistling tunelessly to himself.
Crushing on me? I thought, then saw Deke putting his face in his hands next to me. His ears were pink under the green face paint. A spark of hope flared in me.
“So you were a prince... but now you’re not?” I asked slowly and Deke nodded, looking up at me. “How does that happen?”
“Ever hear of those DNA kits? The ones that can trace your heritage and ancestry?” he asked. I nodded. He tried to smile, but it flashed, then faltered. “So... probably not the best idea to try one of those for fun if you’ve grown up hearing rumors about who your real father is.”
At my blank stare, he scrambled, adding, “Not me, no, no. I know who my dad is, for sure. I’m talking about my dad,” he said. “He’s a scientist, right? And he’d heard some stories growing up about who his real father was, sure, but he ignored them. He was in the family with a title and everything and the gossip magazines always like to stir up trouble. Some people just like a juicy story.”
When I didn’t say anything - because, really, what do you say when you meet a former member of the royal class? - he continued, his words tumbling out in a rush. “Anyhow, my dad did the whole swab the inside of your cheek thing and sent it off, not really thinking about the stories about his father and his mother and what might happen to our place in the family.”
He looked away then, pushing the bandana on his forehead up and down. “At least, that’s what my dad said after the results came back. That he had never doubted who his father was, that he was just trying to clear the whole mess up. But what could he really say? My grandfather...” He looked back at me, his eyes intense. “He is my grandfather, no matter what the stupid test says. My grandfather didn’t believe the test, said there’s a margin of error.” He was quiet for a few moments, staring at the petting pen where the goats were leaping up and over each other, then added, his voice soft. “It was hard for my grandfather.”
I looked at him and without thinking, reached out, my fingers finding his again. His hand closed around mine.
“So,” he said, turning to face me, his fingers warm against the back of my hand. A grin peeked out of the side of his mouth, creasing his dimple slightly before his face fell serious again, well, as serious as a face layered with green paint and streaked with beads of sweat can look. I looked into his eyes, deep and brown and... hopeful? He gulped. Was he as nervous as I was?
So,” he repeated, his voice cracking a bit on the word. “That’s my story. My secret, I guess, even though everyone will know once Vicky’s story hits. I was born into a royal family, but I’m not really royalty and I guess I never really was. My family left our home country after the tabloids published the test results. It was just too hard to stay so we came back to the US. My mom’s from here, she met my dad at the summer Olympics when she was on the track and field team for the US and he was there as an official representative for the family. They fell in love, the whole ‘girl meets prince’ story.”
“Deke,” I started to say, but he shook his head and kept talking.
“Seriously, I have to say this, Cici, if I don’t tell you now, I might never have the nerve to again, and I know Vicky has been hounding my mom and dad for interviews. She’s got some source somewhere, but who knows what kind of story she’s actually going to tell. I wanted to be the one who told you everything, not the news or social media or some gossip at school.” He took a deep breath and his deep voice faded to a soft, rumbling whisper. “I like you way too much for that.”
My heart skipped then kept going, beating fast as his words washed over me. I smiled at him, and squeezed his hand, wanting nothing more than to tell him I felt the same. But just as I opened my mouth to speak, he pulled his hand from mine, his face breaking into a real smile for the first time since we sat down.
“Hang on a sec,” he said, pointing down at my muddy sock. Shrugging off the light string bag backpack given out as a freebie. “I found it again, after you hit your head. You really should keep better track of your shoes, you know,” he said, holding it out to me.
“Oh my gosh,” I said, laughing out loud. “My shoe.”
“I know,” he said, laughing. His dimples were back and the spark of hope in my heart burst into a thousand exploding fireworks of joy as he jumped up, then knelt down on one knee in front of me, bowing gracefully.
“Isn’t this how it goes?” He asked, then added, “Wait, isn’t it supposed to be a glass slipper and aren’t your stepsisters supposed to try to shove their foot in first?”
I laughed again. Deke was right. How had I never noticed that my life was like a story?
At my knee, Deke looked up at me. “Would you try this shoe on for me?” he said, his long fingers gently wrapping around my calf as he loosened the muddy laces with his other hand and slipped my running shoe over my soggy sock. As the shoe slipped past my heel, I wiggled
my foot into it and he let go, taking both of my hands in his as he knelt in front of me.
“I feel like this is the part of the story where I kiss you,” he said, looking up at me, his eyes wide, vulnerable, his hands warm on mine. “But since I’m not a prince anymore, I’m not sure how this story ends.”
I met his gaze, locking my eyes on his. For a moment, my mind flashed over all the changes that had rocked my life this morning, then I pushed them away. It would be crazy, I knew, sorting everything out with my dad’s will, and I was sure Vicky Lewis would bug me constantly for an exclusive interview, but I knew, I just knew, that finally it was all going to work out.
All I cared about right now in this moment was the hopeful look on Deke’s face and the feel of his hands on mine.
With a smile, I leaned toward him, our eyes locked, and whispered, “Well, that’s one story. I know this other story.”
Deke raised his left eyebrow. “Really?” he asked, his voice playful. “And how does that story end?”
I leaned closer, my hair swinging forward from my ponytail and across his shoulder as our noses brushed, his green face paint smudging off on me, our warm breath mingling.
Barely breathing, heart pounding, I laughed softly, whispering, “That story ends with the rich girl kissing the frog prince.”
Then my words trailed off as Deke leaned forward that last inch, pressing his warm mouth against mine.
COMING SOON!
Team Peabrain is the next book in the Castlewood High Tales Series!
Releasing in October 2020!
Click here to sign up for my monthly email newsletter to be notified when it releases and to stay up-to-date on upcoming books in the Castlewood High Tales Series.
Author’s Note:
Thanks for reading this book. I hope you enjoyed this retelling of the classic fairy tale, Cinderella.
The challenges that the main character of this story faces due to her stepmother can happen in real life, often far worse than depicted in this fictional tale. If you or someone you care about is the victim of child abuse, help is available. Contact the Childhelp National Child Abuse Hotline at 1-800-4-A-CHILD or go online to www.childhlep.org to get references to local emergency services, referrals to social services, and help from support resources near you.
Don't miss out!
Click the button below and you can sign up to receive emails whenever Mary-Kate Thomas publishes a new book. There's no charge and no obligation.
https://books2read.com/r/B-A-MYKK-WCRGB
Connecting independent readers to independent writers.
About the Author
Mary-Kate Thomas is the pen name of the author of the Castlewood High Tales, a retold sweet romance series.
A mom to four great kids - two daughters, two sons - she's been happily married for over twenty years. She spends her days wrangling her latest pair of bird dogs, driving carpool around her lovely corner of Ohio, and writing stories.
To keep up-to-date with her book releases, visit her website at www.mariannethomaswrites.com and subscribe to her monthly newsletter.
Read more at Mary-Kate Thomas’s site.
Pumpkin Run Page 14
