Seeing Cinderella by Jenny Lundquist

Author:Jenny Lundquist
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aladdin

Chapter 11

Super Freaky Glasses Rule #10

Never leave home without your glasses (and a pack of Red Hots). You never know when they might come in handy.

ANGRY VOICES SPURTED FROM AN OPEN WINDOW AS I walked up the porch to Ana’s house. The voices fell silent when I knocked, and I heard footsteps padding toward the front door. I hoped Ana would answer so I wouldn’t have to talk to her uncle. I wasn’t disappointed.

“Hola.” Ana stepped out onto the porch. Behind her, I saw Mr. Garcia lurking in the entryway, staring at us. I wondered what they had been arguing about.

“Ready to go?” I asked, although clearly Ana wasn’t ready. Instead of the nurse’s costume she said she had, Ana was dressed in her too-small overalls. I almost asked if she’d changed her mind and decided to go as a farmer, but didn’t.

“I cannot go. I am sick,” Ana said.

“Oh. Okay.” I frowned, and not just because I felt disappointed, but because I had this strange feeling Ana was lying. She looked tired, so maybe she really was sick. But something about the way she held on to the door—like she couldn’t wait to close it—made me feel like she was lying. If Ana had gotten in trouble with her uncle, she could’ve just told me.

Then again, she probably couldn’t, I realized as I looked over her shoulder at Mr. Garcia. Not with him spying on us. I wished I could’ve put my glasses on and found out the truth. But after the close call with Ellen, I’d left them at home.

“See you at school.” Ana sounded like Mr. Angelo when he dismissed us from class.

Ana stepped back inside her house. Something made me stick out my foot, catching the door before it closed.

“What are your symptoms?” I asked.

“Symptoms? I do not know this word.”

“Symptoms, you know—coughing, sneezing.” I faked a sneeze.

“Oh. I feel cold. And my head hurts.”

“So you have a headache?”

“Yes. I have a headache. Good-bye, Callie.” I moved my foot, and Ana firmly shut the door.

I stared at the door, wishing I’d brought my glasses. Wishing I could’ve tried to read Ana’s thoughts, even if most of them were in Spanish.

Because I knew Ana was lying to me. What I didn’t know was why.

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