Glass Slippers [1st Draft]

3. The Four-Year-Old and the Frog

"Why wouldn't they?" Clara asked, curious about what was going through her sisters' heads. Both of her sisters stared at each other, looking as if they were having a silent argument until finally, Harriet spoke up, turning to Clara with a serious expression on her face.

"Thomas told us that all stepmothers were terrible and mean and that all stepsisters were stupid and annoying," Harriet stated bluntly. Seeing that it was alright, Amelia also jumped on the bandwagon of telling Clara what the stable boy had warned them about their new step-family.

"And he said that our stepmother would cook us and eat us!"

"What? No, he didn't! That's what he said about old ladies."

"But he said stepmothers were witches? Wouldn't that make her old?"

"Not all witches are old! Remember, he said that she'd try to poison us with an apple instead!" Clara watched her siblings argue back and forth, trying and failing not to find it humorous. It sounded like Thomas was telling them his own take on fairy tales and the girls hadn't realized it.

"Harriet, Amelia, did it ever occur to you that his stories are just stories?" Clara asked, stopping their debate in its tracks. Both girls looked thunderstruck, their eyes wide.

"What? No, they're not!" Harriet exclaimed, but Amelia looked less sure.

"They're just stories?" Amelia questioned, and Clara nodded, looking away from her sisters for a moment to pass James some more cooked carrot chunks.

"Yes. The old witch planning to cook and eat the children? That's Hansel and Gretel. The stepmother who tried to poison her stepdaughter with a poisoned apple? That one is Snow White. I'm surprised he didn't tell you the story of the Frog Prince to try to trick you into kissing frogs," Clara said, finally looking back at both of her sisters, only to see that Amelia's face turning bright red and Harriet was barely containing her laughter.

"Kissing frogs doesn't turn them into princes?" Amelia whispered, sounding horrified, her brown eyes widening.

"No, it doesn't," Clara said, having barely finished her sentence when Amelia jumped up from her seat, pushing the chair back with an ear-splitting scrape.

"Amelia! Where are you going?" Clara called but her words were met by the sound of the front door slamming shut behind her sister. Clara, at that moment, did not envy young Thomas Landon.

She was about to ask Harriet if she thought Amelia was going to go terrorize Thomas when James started to cry. Turning her attention to James, she saw that the sound of either the chair or the slamming of the door must have startled him and now the majority of the carrot chunks were on his clothes. Based off of his cries and how he was fidgeting in his seat, Clara would guess that some went down his shirt as well.

"Oh no! I've got to get him changed! They'll surely be here soon!" She exclaimed, scooping James up into her arms. She quickly walked to the door of the kitchen and headed up the stairs to his room, Harriet following close behind. Clara reached James' bedroom and threw the door open quickly, before stepping over to his dresser.

"Harriet, can you please try to help me?"

"Why? He looks fine the way he is."

"Harriet, he has food all down the front of his shirt! All I'm asking you to do is to hold him still for a second!" Clara said over the toddler's cries, trying to both soothe him and hold a conversation with her younger sister.

"I don't see why it matters. Stepmother will just have to get used to it," Harriet said, her arms crossed over her chest. Clara looked over at her sister, her mouth set in a firm line.

Even though she now knew the reason for it, Clara didn't appreciate the fact that Harriet seemed to take it upon herself to make the whole meet the step-family situation more difficult. She knew that both of her sisters had been tricked, but that didn't change the fact they should give their new stepmother a chance. But then, Clara had to remind herself, they were only children.

Learning about the stories that Thomas had told them shed a whole new light on many of her sisters' actions over the past few days. Just that morning, Clara had witnessed both of them trying to get into the room that had been set aside for their new stepsisters. However, when she asked them what they were doing, they refused to tell her, instead starting an argument that Clara was now sure was staged.

"Fine, alright. Then can you at least go and try to smooth out your dress?" Clara said, resigned to her fate of handling a squirming, screeching, James by herself.

"Why should I?" Harriet said, her tone sassier than what would be expected of a eight-going-on-nine-year-old.

"Because we should at least try to look presentable-for-our- ugh- step-family," Clara responded, finally succeeding in putting on James' new shirt.

"I don't care if I look presentable for our step-family," Harriet harrumphed.

"I can see that," Clara commented, now smoothing back James' hair from his forehead in an attempt to calm him down. He was no longer throwing a tantrum, but he was still very red in the face. "Can you at least tell me how your dress got so wrinkled? I had it pressed and ready to go last night." Harriet shifted from foot to foot, her defiant stance softening to more of an unsure one.

"Ames and I were out playing in the garden," she said, and while that normally would've been an acceptable answer, Clara had a sneaky suspicion that Harriet was leaving something out. Clara eyed her younger sister for a moment, before shaking her head, she'd ask about it later. Maybe they had been frog-hunting or something of that sort. It would certainly explain Amelia's dramatic exit.

"Alright, well try to keep it clean for now. They should be here any moment. Can you go get Amelia for me?" Clara asked, and Harriet nodded before darting out of the room. As her swish of auburn hair whipped out of sight, Clara rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hand.

"What am I to do with those two, James?" She muttered into her brother's hair as she set him on her hip. "Promise you won't cause this much trouble when you get older?"

"No," he said, his young voice sounding almost absentminded, causing Clara to give a small laugh.

"I guess I shouldn't have asked, huh?" She said, smiling. "I suppose we're both as ready as we'll ever be," she declared looking at the image of them in the mirror hanging in the hallway. She had a slight stain on the front of her dress, no doubt from being pressed against a carrot covered toddler, but she had no time to fix it now.

Turning away, she made her way in the direction of the front foyer, not wanting to waste any more time. As she descended the stairs she was pleasantly surprised to see both of her younger sisters already standing by the front door, fidgeting only marginally.

When Clara reached the bottom, and she saw both of her sisters clearly, she couldn't help but give a small pause. A frown marred her face as she noticed that Amelia's dress had a grass stained hem and that there was a dark smudge on Harriet's. Neither were there a moment ago.

She opened her mouth to say something, but Harriet started forward towards the door before Clara could get a word out.

"C'mon, Clara, they'll be here any minute!" Harriet blurted out, hurrying towards the front door with Amelia just behind her on her heels. Clara shook her head and followed the girls out into the blinding sunlight.

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So what do you think of Clara's sisters? Do you think they'll cause more trouble in the future?