one o'clock: bibbidi bobbidi boo 

I sat in the middle of six other people, three couples. Once again, my friends had somehow managed to drag me along to the movie theater on a Friday night to watch a romantic comedy with their boyfriends. I was all for going out and I didn’t mind that they were all in relationships, but I was not about to get used to the seventh wheel life. They planted me in the center of all of the action because they didn’t want me to feel left out, but it only reiterated the fact that I was “available.” Whenever I said this to Donovan, who I was sure was gay, he would respond with, “You mean vacant?” They meant the same thing, but available made it sound like I was appealing and not a run-down apartment. Basically, I liked to have my self esteem boosted not shot down.

I hugged the popcorn container protectively against my chest. If they wanted popcorn, they could get their own. Right now, this bucket of artificially buttered kernels was the only thing I had. I was grateful that my friends weren’t the kind of people who thought that the only purpose a movie theater served was a spot to make out at. The worst that happened was a shared peck at a romantic scene, which made me want to cry because I heard Donovan’s words echo in the back of my head.

When the movie was finished, I gushed about how wonderful of a movie it was and claimed that it was one of my favorite movies, but it wasn’t all that different from any other romantic comedy. I was on that after-movie high where nothing could possibly beat what you’ve wasted an hour and half of your life watching. I was pathetic and lonely, two words that could be used to describe my Great Aunt Carol, who has kept her dead parakeet, Peck, for good luck. Quite frankly, I didn’t see how a shoebox full of maggots was good luck, but I wasn’t planning on visiting her anytime soon, so more power to her.

I wanted love, but not the crappy infatuation that seemed to have infiltrated any girl from the ages of fourteen to seventeen. I wanted true love. Was that so much to ask for? I disregarded the warnings from my parents and my friends and made myself an online dating account, but even that was a failed attempt at romance. Apparently being a full-time high school student wasn’t a proper occupation. I once let Catrine, my  eccentric friend who aspired to be a fortune teller, set me up on a blind date with one of her clients, and he turned out to be one of my dad’s co-workers. He was nice and took me out for ice cream, but the “date” and the ride home were awkward beyond belief. Needless to say, I gave Catrine a stern talking to the next day, hand on hip, disappointed head shake, the whole shebang. I needed to go to the experts for this, so I gathered as many Disney movies as I could and carried them up to my room. I felt like Gus from Cinderella when he was carrying the corn kernels. I didn’t have a Lucifer, but I did have Donovan, who was like a Lucifer in the sense that he wanted to inflict as much emotional harm as he could on me.

“You’re an idiot, Coralie,” he said, popping a chocolate chip into his mouth. “This plan is stupid and is destined to fail.”

“Stop being such a downer and take notes.” I thrusted a sparkly pink notebook into his arms. He eyed it with immense repugnance in such a way that made me want to smack him, so I did. “And here’s a pen. If you press on the slipper, it lights up.”

“Oh, goodie,” he deadpanned. “Are you seriously making me take notes on a Disney movie to help you find a boyfriend?”

About fifteen minutes into the movie, he realizes that I was being serious and started scribbling on his notebook. I snuck a couple of glances, but his handwriting was sloppy and illegible. There was no way I was wasting an hour decoding it, so I decided to force him to read it aloud once the movie was over. Once our ideas were voiced, we (I) made the plan.

“This is impossible,” Donovan said.

“Not impossible, impassable.”

“What movie is that from?”

“Alice in Wonderland.”

I had requested that Donovan make a few items during his woodshop class, but it wasn’t like I was slacking either. I had plenty of designing and sewing to do before Saturday rolled around. My bedroom and the dining room were a complete mess (we had to eat in the kitchen this week), and I thought my mom would be the most upset, but it turned out I was wrong.

“Coralie!” Dad called from downstairs. “Do you want to explain to me why there’s an obituary of me on the table?”

I was really bad at cleaning up after myself and sort of assumed my parents would keep their noses out of my project. I slowly walked down the stairs, wincing at every step I made. I wanted to delay this conversation for as long as I could, but the dining room wasn’t as far away as I’d hoped. Seeing Dad hold up the cardstock in his hand, both confused and angry, I playfully punched his arm. He wasnt amused. “Hey, Dad. You wanted to talk?”

He rubbed his temples. “Why am I dead?”

“I think that’s a personal question.”

“Coralie…”

“It’s for a project. I need it to be authentic!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Cinderella’s dad died at the beginning of the movie. Just go with it, okay? It’s not like I’m going to publish it.”

He sighed, patted my head, and left the room. Dad was not one to get involved in my “wacky” teenage business.

I woke my little sister up at five in the morning so she could stand outside our opaque shower doors to hand me my towel. I contemplated making her fill up buckets of water and dump them on me, but that would wake Mom and Dad up. Besides, even if she was standing on the toilet seat, she wasn’t tall enough to reach over the shower doors.I hid her favorite doll and if she left before I was finished, her doll would no longer have any hair. I knew it wasn’t how Cinderella rolled, but she had willing animals to wait on her. “This is so stupid,” Lexi said, yawning. “I’m never going to be like you. Now where’s my doll?”

“You have to help me get dressed first.”

“No way, weirdo. Tell me or I’m telling Mom.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You wouldn’t.” She opened her mouth to scream, but I cut her off. “Fine. She’s in the linen closet. Top shelf.”

“Thank you.” She grabbed a stool and marched out, making zero effort to be quiet.

After I was dressed, I ventured into the pantry to find a bucket and a rag. I filled the bucket up with water and soap and began to clean the kitchen floors. Coordination was not a trait I possessed, so it was only natural that I flooded half of the kitchen. I used an entire roll of paper towels and all of our washcloths, but a layer of water still remained. I made a makeshift clothesline out of Mom’s heavy knitting yarn to hang the soaking towels on. I put on a pair of rainboots and prepared breakfast for my parents. When they came downstairs at 7 AM, I was expecting them to be thrilled when they saw my undercooked chocolate chip pancakes, scrambled eggs, and soggy toast (the effort was there), but they looked past the magnificent meal and at the floor. To say the least, I was banned from waking up before seven, which I wasn’t complaining about.

“Did you bring the stuff?” I asked Donovan eagerly.

He held up a plastic bag. “Wand and shoe accounted for. I hope you know the torture I went through to make this.”

“Was it too difficult?”

“No. The other guys were taunting me to the point where I wanted to cry.”

“You’re joking.”

“Yup, but I still hate you for making me do this. If they ask me to make them a crown, I will personally kill you. Say, is that your prom dress from last year?” I nodded. “You’re seriously not going to go out in public like that, are you? You look like Cinderella, Coralie.”

“That was the point, doofus. Now follow me upstairs. I have a surprise for you!”

“No. Absolutely not,” he said once I showed his outfit. “I’m not wearing that.” He crossed his arms. “I refuse.”

I held up Fairy Godmother’s dress, dangling it in front of him. “But I spent so much time working on this. Look, I even bought you a white wig.”

“There’s such a thing as crossing a line, and this is it.”

“Please? I spent all week on this.”

He gave me a hard stare before giving in. “Fine, but this is the only time I’m wearing a dress.”

I threw myself into his arms. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

When he came out of the bathroom, I couldn’t hold in my laughter. He looked so entertainingly ridiculous. Before we left, Mom wanted to take a picture of us. I didn’t know what she thought we were up to, but she must’ve assumed it wasn’t something I wouldn’t get in trouble for because she let us out of the house.

When we arrived at the post office, I made Donovan get out and sing “Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo” while doing a dance to get me motivated to find Prince Charming. After that, Donovan insisted that we wait in his green Lexus, which I wanted to paint orange, but he wouldn’t have it. He said I humiliated him enough without having a pumpkin-colored car. Once I spotted my prince, I ran up the concrete stairs after him. I walked in, wooden shoe in hand, and threw it at the unsuspecting man. He turned around, looked at his ankle, and then at me running out to Donovan’s car. He ran out after me, a string of expletives flying out of his mouth.

“That didn’t go so well,” I mumbled.

“You’ll get him next time,” he said.

I sighed. “I didn’t even like Cinderella anyway.”