Cinderella 2000: Looking Back . . . - Softcover
A hilarious account of preparing for New Year's Eve for the millennium with romance, drama, shopping, two devilish stepsisters, and a happily-ever-after ending.
Ashley Ella Toral wants to spend the last hours of 1999 and the first hours of the year 2000 at the Green Hill Country Club with her (hopefully) soon-to-be boyfriend. And what's standing in the way of Ashley's romantic success? A stepmother who yells "Yoo-hoo!" to all Ashley's friends, and twin stepsisters who think there's nothing more fun than listening in on Ashley's phone conversations. At first, Ashley's stepmother, Phyllis, says that she needs a night out and so Ashley must baby-sit the twins. But then Phyllis has the bright idea of calling the mother of one of the party-throwers to get the twins invited, too! So worse than having to baby-sit, she'll have the twins at the party with her. Now Ashley isn't sure it's worth showing up to the country club at all -- never mind what she's going to wear. As the seconds tick down to the year 2000, will some fairy godmother appear to save the night so that Ashley can dance with her Prince Charming and welcome the new millennium?
Ashley Ella Toral wants to spend the last hours of 1999 and the first hours of the year 2000 at the Green Hill Country Club with her (hopefully) soon-to-be boyfriend. And what's standing in the way of Ashley's romantic success? A stepmother who yells "Yoo-hoo!" to all Ashley's friends, and twin stepsisters who think there's nothing more fun than listening in on Ashley's phone conversations. At first, Ashley's stepmother, Phyllis, says that she needs a night out and so Ashley must baby-sit the twins. But then Phyllis has the bright idea of calling the mother of one of the party-throwers to get the twins invited, too! So worse than having to baby-sit, she'll have the twins at the party with her. Now Ashley isn't sure it's worth showing up to the country club at all -- never mind what she's going to wear. As the seconds tick down to the year 2000, will some fairy godmother appear to save the night so that Ashley can dance with her Prince Charming and welcome the new millennium?
"synopsis" may belong to another edition of this title.
About the Author:
Mavis Jukes is the author of Like Jake and Me, a Newbery Honor book, as well as Expecting the Unexpected and Planning the Impossible.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:
Two thousand silver helium balloons, with curled silver ribbons hanging down?
“You must be kidding!” said Ashley. She twirled the phone cord around her finger. “Two thousand?”
“That’s what I heard . . . ,” said Ana. “And there’s going to be an ice sculpture in the middle of the buffet table: two, zero, zero, zero—with flower petals frozen in the numbers. But you can’t tell anybody.”
“I won’t.”
“It’s a total secret.”
“Fine,” said Ashley. “But—who told you?”
“Emily. Brittany and Mara were talking about it in that new store next to Starr’s. In the dressing room. They didn’t realize Emily was trying on tops in the next booth.”
“Oh.”
“Emily hid in there till they left.”
“Did she get any tops?”
“No. But she got a plastic tulip lamp.” Ana paused. “Did your stepmom say you could get a new dress for the party? Or no.”
“I’ve put off asking.”
“Well, you’d better hurry up. The party’s in two days!”
“I know,” said Ashley. “But Phyllis’s been saying she’s all ‘spent out from Christmas . . . that the new couch and La-Z-Boy chair were really ‘presents meant for all of us.’ ”
Ana grew quiet. “Well, if Phyllis doesn’t say yes, remember: You really do look cute in your little black dress, Ashley.”
“You think?”
“Mmmm-hmmm! Do you have shoes?”
“I can polish those little black strappy heels I got for Emily’s Bat Mitzvah.”
“They still fit?”
“I think so.” But come to think of it, thought Ashley, I hope my toes don’t hang over the edge.
Ashley heard a low rumbling sound. She lifted the curtain and looked out the window.
Yup.
Her stepmom was pulling in.
Ashley watched the ancient green station wagon lurch to a stop, barely missing one of the two dented garbage cans sitting on the side of the driveway.
“I have to go,” Ashley told Ana. “Phyllis’s home. And it’s my turn for dishes—again.”
“Talk to you later,” said Ana.
They said goodbye and Ashley hung up the phone.
She spied on her two stepsisters as they got out of the car, each holding
a shopping bag from Zil’s. They left the car door open and strolled toward
the front stoop. Ashley heard her stepmother shout, “Shut the car door!”
but neither Paige nor Jessica responded.
“I mean it!”
“You!” yelled Paige. “We have to watch the soaps.”
“You do not! One of you shut that car door!”
Words were exchanged; one sister swung her bag at the other. There was a
brief scuffle, followed by a chase across the front yard.
Ashley let the curtain drop to the sill. She turned and surveyed the
kitchen. The sink was half full of greasy water and piled with dirty
dishes. A frying pan had been dunked and left to soak. A piece of fried
egg was dangling from the handle.
There was even a stalk of celery floating in the water.
Ashley fished it out by one leaf and dropped it into the trash under the
sink.
Ick! she thought.
She drained the sink and began to fill it again.
There was a loud thump at the front door, and Ashley heard a shout and
giggles as her stepsisters raced down the hallway and slammed their
bedroom door.
A moment later, Ashley’s stepmother appeared in the kitchen. “You’ll never
guess,”
she said.
Ashley looked up. Phyllis’s glasses were on top of her head, pulling back
her hair and making two frightful wings.
“You guys went to the mall,” said Ashley. “Again.” She squirted some
dishwashing liquid into the water and watched the bubbles rise.
“Right,” said Phyllis. “We hit the sale at Zil’s. The twins got velvet
jumpers. And black dresses—similar to your black dress.”
“How similar?” Ashley asked.
Phyllis shrugged. “Anyway, I’ve got news! My grammie has overcome her fear
of flying! She’s spontaneously decided to come out. And she’s coming in
guess when. Tomorrow afternoon! Can you believe it? I’m picking her up
from the airport bus, right after I get off of work.”
“You’re not meeting her flight?”
“How?” said Phyllis. “You’re on vacation, I’m not. That bum of a boss of
mine has me working all the way up to four o’clock on New Year’s Eve . . .
like I don’t have a life. But I have news for him and the rest of the
world: My whole life’s in front of me, not behind me. Right?”
“Right.”
“And Grammie and I are going to ring in the new millennium with a bottle
of French champagne she’s been saving since 1984.”
“Cool,” said Ashley. She looked down at the suds filling the sink. “Where
will she sleep?”
“Actually that’s something we need to talk about,” Phyllis began. She
walked over to Ashley and put her arm around Ashley’s shoulder. “It will
only be for four nights,” she whispered, giving Ashley a squeeze.
“Thursday. Friday. Saturday. Sunday. Help me out here.”
“She can’t sleep in your bed with you? It’s a king!”
“The woman’s seventy-five years old,” said Phyllis. “I think she’s
entitled to her own room, at her age.”
Ashley picked up the dish brush and scrubbed at the little icky plugs of
garlic stuck in the garlic press. She rinsed it and put it into the drain.
“The Christmas couch is really fluffy,” said Phyllis in a cheery way. “And
you can snuggle down in—in all those orange pillows.”
“Can’t the twins?” Ashley asked.
“Two? On one couch?”
“Well, what about one in a sleeping bag, on the floor? Or in the La-Z-Boy,
tipped all the way back?”
“Sleep on the floor or in a chair? That wouldn’t be fair. Would it?”
Ashley said nothing. It was plain that she would be giving up her room; it
was pointless to discuss it. But hmmmm, she thought. Maybe now would be
the moment . . .
Even though she was generally a jeans, sweatshirts and sneakers girl,
there was a streak of princess in Ashley. She looked down at the dishwater.
Steam was rising.
Imagine, she thought. You’re floating into the New Millennium’s Eve party,
wearing high-heel shoes and a new dress, with part of your hair drawn up
and fastened on top with a crown of rosebuds, each bud on an individual
hairpin . . . or maybe just pulled back with some rhinestone clips . . .
and the rest of your hair tumbling onto your shoulders and down your back.
Ashley popped her eyes open. Where was her body glitter? She hadn’t seen
it lately.
So much steam had risen from the sink, Ashley had practically given
herself a facial. She quickly washed and rinsed the dishes, putting them
neatly into the drain. “Phyllis?” she said. “Is there anything else you
want me
to do?”
Phyllis had wandered into the living room and was sorting through some
bills. “Could you please come in here and talk to me? I don’t like to talk
room to room. You know that.”
Ashley dried her hands on a dishtowel. “Could I get a new dress for the
New Millennium’s Eve dance?” she quietly asked as she stood in the living
room doorway. “I saw an ad in the paper for a huge post-Christmas sale at
Starr’s.”
“Mom!” cried Jessica’s voice from the other room.
“What!”
“Where’s the remote?” yelled Paige.
“I don’t know! Find it!” called Phyllis. She glanced up at Ashley. “You
mean that country club party?”
“Yes,” said Ashley.
“That party’s on . . . New Year’s Eve?” said Phyllis.
“Yes! You knew that!”
“Shhh! Maybe I did know. Let me think for once, will you, Ashley? Don’t
hound me. I’ve got more to worry about than the Ocean Crest Country Club.
My gosh. Look at this Visa bill!”
“Mom!” called Paige.
Phyllis looked at the ceiling. “What!” she hollered back.
There was no answer.
“Ashley?” said Phyllis. “Keep this in mind: I don’t keep your social
events in my head. It’s not my job. Did you mark this party on the
calendar?”
“We don’t have a year 2000 calendar.”
“December thirty-first is not on a year 2000 calendar!” said Phyllis
grumpily. “In the future, mark things on the calendar on the wall by the
back door. Anyway, I forgot. And now I’m banking on you to hold down the
fort on New Year’s Eve.”
“Hold down the fort?” said Ashley. “On New Year’s Eve? Of the year 2000?”
“Yes. Flying out to see me is the first spontaneous thing Grammie’s done
in fifteen years. She’s been so cooped up. Do you know that she couldn’t
even fly out for your father’s and my wedding? I had to drag him all the
way out to Florida to meet her.”
“You mean when you and Dad went on your honeymoon and stopped off in
Florida, on your way to Bermuda, and left me and ...
“You must be kidding!” said Ashley. She twirled the phone cord around her finger. “Two thousand?”
“That’s what I heard . . . ,” said Ana. “And there’s going to be an ice sculpture in the middle of the buffet table: two, zero, zero, zero—with flower petals frozen in the numbers. But you can’t tell anybody.”
“I won’t.”
“It’s a total secret.”
“Fine,” said Ashley. “But—who told you?”
“Emily. Brittany and Mara were talking about it in that new store next to Starr’s. In the dressing room. They didn’t realize Emily was trying on tops in the next booth.”
“Oh.”
“Emily hid in there till they left.”
“Did she get any tops?”
“No. But she got a plastic tulip lamp.” Ana paused. “Did your stepmom say you could get a new dress for the party? Or no.”
“I’ve put off asking.”
“Well, you’d better hurry up. The party’s in two days!”
“I know,” said Ashley. “But Phyllis’s been saying she’s all ‘spent out from Christmas . . . that the new couch and La-Z-Boy chair were really ‘presents meant for all of us.’ ”
Ana grew quiet. “Well, if Phyllis doesn’t say yes, remember: You really do look cute in your little black dress, Ashley.”
“You think?”
“Mmmm-hmmm! Do you have shoes?”
“I can polish those little black strappy heels I got for Emily’s Bat Mitzvah.”
“They still fit?”
“I think so.” But come to think of it, thought Ashley, I hope my toes don’t hang over the edge.
Ashley heard a low rumbling sound. She lifted the curtain and looked out the window.
Yup.
Her stepmom was pulling in.
Ashley watched the ancient green station wagon lurch to a stop, barely missing one of the two dented garbage cans sitting on the side of the driveway.
“I have to go,” Ashley told Ana. “Phyllis’s home. And it’s my turn for dishes—again.”
“Talk to you later,” said Ana.
They said goodbye and Ashley hung up the phone.
She spied on her two stepsisters as they got out of the car, each holding
a shopping bag from Zil’s. They left the car door open and strolled toward
the front stoop. Ashley heard her stepmother shout, “Shut the car door!”
but neither Paige nor Jessica responded.
“I mean it!”
“You!” yelled Paige. “We have to watch the soaps.”
“You do not! One of you shut that car door!”
Words were exchanged; one sister swung her bag at the other. There was a
brief scuffle, followed by a chase across the front yard.
Ashley let the curtain drop to the sill. She turned and surveyed the
kitchen. The sink was half full of greasy water and piled with dirty
dishes. A frying pan had been dunked and left to soak. A piece of fried
egg was dangling from the handle.
There was even a stalk of celery floating in the water.
Ashley fished it out by one leaf and dropped it into the trash under the
sink.
Ick! she thought.
She drained the sink and began to fill it again.
There was a loud thump at the front door, and Ashley heard a shout and
giggles as her stepsisters raced down the hallway and slammed their
bedroom door.
A moment later, Ashley’s stepmother appeared in the kitchen. “You’ll never
guess,”
she said.
Ashley looked up. Phyllis’s glasses were on top of her head, pulling back
her hair and making two frightful wings.
“You guys went to the mall,” said Ashley. “Again.” She squirted some
dishwashing liquid into the water and watched the bubbles rise.
“Right,” said Phyllis. “We hit the sale at Zil’s. The twins got velvet
jumpers. And black dresses—similar to your black dress.”
“How similar?” Ashley asked.
Phyllis shrugged. “Anyway, I’ve got news! My grammie has overcome her fear
of flying! She’s spontaneously decided to come out. And she’s coming in
guess when. Tomorrow afternoon! Can you believe it? I’m picking her up
from the airport bus, right after I get off of work.”
“You’re not meeting her flight?”
“How?” said Phyllis. “You’re on vacation, I’m not. That bum of a boss of
mine has me working all the way up to four o’clock on New Year’s Eve . . .
like I don’t have a life. But I have news for him and the rest of the
world: My whole life’s in front of me, not behind me. Right?”
“Right.”
“And Grammie and I are going to ring in the new millennium with a bottle
of French champagne she’s been saving since 1984.”
“Cool,” said Ashley. She looked down at the suds filling the sink. “Where
will she sleep?”
“Actually that’s something we need to talk about,” Phyllis began. She
walked over to Ashley and put her arm around Ashley’s shoulder. “It will
only be for four nights,” she whispered, giving Ashley a squeeze.
“Thursday. Friday. Saturday. Sunday. Help me out here.”
“She can’t sleep in your bed with you? It’s a king!”
“The woman’s seventy-five years old,” said Phyllis. “I think she’s
entitled to her own room, at her age.”
Ashley picked up the dish brush and scrubbed at the little icky plugs of
garlic stuck in the garlic press. She rinsed it and put it into the drain.
“The Christmas couch is really fluffy,” said Phyllis in a cheery way. “And
you can snuggle down in—in all those orange pillows.”
“Can’t the twins?” Ashley asked.
“Two? On one couch?”
“Well, what about one in a sleeping bag, on the floor? Or in the La-Z-Boy,
tipped all the way back?”
“Sleep on the floor or in a chair? That wouldn’t be fair. Would it?”
Ashley said nothing. It was plain that she would be giving up her room; it
was pointless to discuss it. But hmmmm, she thought. Maybe now would be
the moment . . .
Even though she was generally a jeans, sweatshirts and sneakers girl,
there was a streak of princess in Ashley. She looked down at the dishwater.
Steam was rising.
Imagine, she thought. You’re floating into the New Millennium’s Eve party,
wearing high-heel shoes and a new dress, with part of your hair drawn up
and fastened on top with a crown of rosebuds, each bud on an individual
hairpin . . . or maybe just pulled back with some rhinestone clips . . .
and the rest of your hair tumbling onto your shoulders and down your back.
Ashley popped her eyes open. Where was her body glitter? She hadn’t seen
it lately.
So much steam had risen from the sink, Ashley had practically given
herself a facial. She quickly washed and rinsed the dishes, putting them
neatly into the drain. “Phyllis?” she said. “Is there anything else you
want me
to do?”
Phyllis had wandered into the living room and was sorting through some
bills. “Could you please come in here and talk to me? I don’t like to talk
room to room. You know that.”
Ashley dried her hands on a dishtowel. “Could I get a new dress for the
New Millennium’s Eve dance?” she quietly asked as she stood in the living
room doorway. “I saw an ad in the paper for a huge post-Christmas sale at
Starr’s.”
“Mom!” cried Jessica’s voice from the other room.
“What!”
“Where’s the remote?” yelled Paige.
“I don’t know! Find it!” called Phyllis. She glanced up at Ashley. “You
mean that country club party?”
“Yes,” said Ashley.
“That party’s on . . . New Year’s Eve?” said Phyllis.
“Yes! You knew that!”
“Shhh! Maybe I did know. Let me think for once, will you, Ashley? Don’t
hound me. I’ve got more to worry about than the Ocean Crest Country Club.
My gosh. Look at this Visa bill!”
“Mom!” called Paige.
Phyllis looked at the ceiling. “What!” she hollered back.
There was no answer.
“Ashley?” said Phyllis. “Keep this in mind: I don’t keep your social
events in my head. It’s not my job. Did you mark this party on the
calendar?”
“We don’t have a year 2000 calendar.”
“December thirty-first is not on a year 2000 calendar!” said Phyllis
grumpily. “In the future, mark things on the calendar on the wall by the
back door. Anyway, I forgot. And now I’m banking on you to hold down the
fort on New Year’s Eve.”
“Hold down the fort?” said Ashley. “On New Year’s Eve? Of the year 2000?”
“Yes. Flying out to see me is the first spontaneous thing Grammie’s done
in fifteen years. She’s been so cooped up. Do you know that she couldn’t
even fly out for your father’s and my wedding? I had to drag him all the
way out to Florida to meet her.”
“You mean when you and Dad went on your honeymoon and stopped off in
Florida, on your way to Bermuda, and left me and ...
"About this title" may belong to another edition of this title.
- PublisherYearling
- Publication date2001
- ISBN 10 0440228662
- ISBN 13 9780440228660
- BindingPaperback
- Number of pages208
- Rating
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