Ella

It wasn’t supposed to work out that way. It just didn’t work. Fairytales were supposed to end with ‘happily ever after’, Ella thought. And this was most deffinetly a fairytale unless she someone had slipped something into her drink. She was so sure that she had seen a dumpy old woman in an unflattering blue dress sitting on the brick wall. That was the one who had turned a pumpkin into a carriage. Deffinetly fairytale material. Then why was it ending this way? Ella hitched up her shorts a little bit just to showcase those legs of hers that could go on forever. She was deffinetly the prettiest girl in the room. She was the tallest, with long legs that had been toned by years of hard work. Her shorts hardly covered her thighs, but clung to the curve of her hips. She was wearing a shirt that cut off just above her belly button, showing a stretch of her flat, tanned tummy. Her coppery hair was pulled back into a sloppy ponytail, and a few rouge strands lay across her large green eyes. Residual makeup clung to her skin, giving her a smoky look. In short, she was gorgeous.
“Excuse me?” she asked incredulously as she stared at the glass slipper on her sister’s, Drew’s, foot. Drew looked at her foot, and then at the prince, and then at her foot again in disbelief.
Drew was a n unfortunate looking girl, or so Ella thought. She had a mop of golden blonde curls that always looked greasy. At a young age Drew had stopped expecting a cool haircut, and had started just expecting less hair. Her face was round, and pink. Her eyes were small and beady, her lips were thin, and her nose was too large. Drew had always hated Ella for having such a perfect face. Like Ella, Drew was tall, but she wore baggy jeans and oversize sweatshirts, covering up her voluptous figure. Drew looked around panicking.
“This has to be a mistake, right? I mean, I don’t have to marry this guy just because I have the feet that turn him on, right? How sick is that? He loves me for my feet?” Drew cried out, her voice even shriller than usual. Ella had an urge to slap her.
“Yeah it does, you moron. You get to marry him.” Ella spat, turning away. This was supposed to be her happy ending.
“But I don’t want to.” wailed Drew, her chin wobbling slightly.
The man turned away from both of the girls in disgust. He didn’t know which he found more repulsive, weak or mean.
Somewhere far, far away a dumpy old woman in an unflattering blue dress stared at her tea, thinking that maybe she was forgetting something.