"I don't think you heard me clearly the first time," I murmured sweetly to the freshman, who, for her benefit, was holding her ground. "Back the hell off or we're gonna have issues."

The little girl blinked fiercely. She was wearing way too much eyeliner and her eyelashes were clumpy with mascara.

I hated this new generation of self-proclaimed "bad girls." Not only were they almost always terrified of fighting, but once you actually engaged them, they would immediately begin crying, go running to a teacher, or complain about a chipped nail.

My generation of "bad girls" was made of tougher stuff. A drop of daddy issues here...a pinch of self-loathing there...and you had yourself one tattooed, motorcycle-riding girl with issues for days. It was like a screwed-up fairy tale potion.

This little punk was continuing to hold her ground, despite my best intimidation efforts. I sighed, removing my sunglasses from the top of my head and handing them to Elsa, who was watching the budding fight disinterestedly. 

Then, I rolled my head and drove my fist into the freshman's cheekbone.

Immediately after, I backed off momentarily, waiting for the tears to come - but none did. The little girl just clenched her jaw, squeezed her eyes shut for a couple of seconds, and, without warning, attacked me.

The freshman grabbed my hair, yanking my head back as she did so. Her concentration on doing so gave me the opening I needed: I stiffened my hand before driving it into the girl's stomach. She exhaled heavily, releasing my hair to double over and clutch her stomach.

I wasted no time in grabbing her throat and shoving her against the wall of the school, scalp still smarting from having my hair pulled. "What's your name, little girl?" I cooed, somewhat interested as to the identity of the toughest kid I had met in a while.

"Merida," the little redhead managed to choke out.

I was about to say something more when I heard a wordless shout and glanced over to find my social studies teacher jogging towards us, potbelly jiggling. Groaning, I released Merida and took a step back with my hands raised in submission.

"Both of you, principal's office, now," panted the teacher, out of breath from his short jog.

Elsa waved a solemn goodbye over the teacher's shoulder, and I resisted the urge to flip her off as she turned and strolled off. I was in enough trouble as it was.

*

"I just - I don't know how to make you stop, Ella," my stepmother, Evie, told me wearily as we climbed into her minivan.

I just chewed on my lip, sullenly crossing my arms and staring out of the passenger window. I could feel the curious gazes of my two bratty stepsisters in the backseat, staring at both Evie and me.

"You're getting grounded again, that's for sure," Evie continued, her words tight with frustration.

"Of course I am," I muttered.

"What?"

I didn't even bother repeating myself, instead continuing to stare sullenly out of the window as Evie sighed and began to drive us home.

Once we had arrived, I immediately made for the staircase, attempting to escape to my room

"Oh, I don't think so, girlie," Evie growled. She grabbed my wrist, squeezing just tight enough to make me wince, and shoved a piece of paper into my hands. "I want every chore on that list completed before dinner. Do you understand me?"

I nodded jerkily, fury bubbling within me. As Evie turned away, I finally snapped.

"They don't have to do any chores."

"Excuse me?" She turned slowly back around.

I gestured to the twins, who were just trying to sneak past us to get to their rooms. "I said, they don't have to do any chores."

"That's because chores are your punishment, and you get in trouble so often that you take them all."

"So think of a different punishment! They're thirteen, they should help around the house." I lowered my voice. "Dad would have made them help around the house."

"I don't know if you're aware, but your father is dead," Evie replied scathingly. "And I am left to raise a juvenile delinquent hell-bent on destroying this family! Now do your chores or I will think up other punishments for you - and trust me, you'd prefer the chores."

She swept away from me, leaving me to my tasks.

There was nothing to do but begin.

*

"Ella, seriously?" Elsa groaned over the phone. "How long are you grounded for this time?"

"Well, when you add it onto the time I was already doing...five weeks."

"Ella!"

"What? This happens all the time! You of all people shouldn't be surprised."

"Ella, homecoming is literally in a week. You promised you'd come!"

"I was just going to be a weird third wheel with you and Jack, anyway," I reminded my best friend, although I had forgotten about homecoming.

"I could have found you a date, easy. Charlie's a nice boy, and I think he likes you."

"Does he know about the fights?"

"He's not exactly a model student. I doubt he would mind." Elsa sighed, falling silent for a few seconds before asking, "What if you snuck out?"

"Snuck out? Are you kidding me?" I hissed, glancing furtively at the bathroom door. Technically, I was supposed to be scrubbing the toilet right now, and if my stepmother heard me talking on the phone - especially when I was discussing disobeying her - there would be huge consequences.

"Yeah! What, are you scared or something?"

Her mocking tone made the decision for me. "No way. I'll do it."

"'Atta girl! Ug - I have to go pretend to do my homework - my dad's coming. See you tomorrow."

I sighed, returning to my chores as I thought things over.

Did I seriously want to do this? I did a lot of stupid crap, way more idiotic than sneaking out, but if there was one person on this earth who legitimately terrified me, it was my stepmother. I was always careful to only break other people's rules - never hers. This, however, would be the first time I had ever broken one of her clearly stated rules. Was homecoming really worth it?

It's your junior year and you'll probably get expelled before you get a chance to go to prom. Take this opportunity.

I decided that, to be safe, I would ask my stepmother to let me go. Then, based off of her reply, I could make my decision.

*

"Hey, Evie?" I asked softly, poking my head into the kitchen, where my stepmother was preparing dinner.

"What?" she snapped. I had no way of knowing if she was still in a bad mood from our argument from earlier or if she just hated me that much.

Either way, I swallowed my pride and said, "Smells great. What is it?"

"Soup," she replied shortly.

Jesus. This woman is impossible.

"Looking forward to it. Um, I know I'm grounded for a few weeks - "

"Five, to be precise."

"Yeah, I know. I was just wondering if...if I could not be grounded for one night so I could go to homecoming."

Evie turned to me, eyes bright with shock, but I hurried onwards regardless. "It would mean so much to me to spend the night with my friends and I won't get in any more trouble until then, I'll do my absolute best, I promise - "

"Your 'absolute best' is worthless to me," my stepmother snarled. "You're a bad student, a bad daughter, and frankly, just a bad person. I'm not rewarding that kind of behavior. You are absolutely forbidden from going to homecoming." As I opened my mouth to attempt to argue, she cut me off with, "End of discussion."

Tears pricking my eyes, I turned and stormed from the kitchen.

*

The days passed quickly after that. Not needing anything from Evie, I didn't bother trying to rein in my actions. The results were a lot of fights, several detentions, and a few failed tests. It was nothing I hadn't done before, so no one was really surprised. My sentence, however, stretched longer and longer.

"At this rate, I'm not going to let you attend graduation," my stepmother threatened after picking me up yet again because of another fight. "Not that you'll get there if you keep acting like this."

Ignoring her, my thoughts turned to my father. He had died when I was eight, about a year after his second marriage, leaving me with my stepmother and her preexisting children. I didn't have a ton of really clear memories of him, but the ones I did have, and the hazy recollections that sometimes floated through my dreams, were always positive - him hoisting me onto his shoulders at the zoo, teaching me how to make amateur bird calls, reading me to sleep.

My life had changed drastically after his death, not just from that traumatizing experience. The sheer torture of being raised with my stepmother and entitled stepsisters had turned me into a completely different person. Sometimes, I had nightmares of my father miraculously coming back to life, only to be so disappointed in me that he would leave all over again.

Those dreams were enough to set me on the straight path for several days afterwards. Inevitably, however, I would once again fall victim to the violent feelings that seemed to constantly plague me. I was angry at the world for the deck of cards it had dealt me, and I wasn't about to let anyone forget it.

*

I began to fixate purely on homecoming. During one of the classes we shared, Elsa was able to sneak me a dress, which I often tried on in my bedroom just before I slept to keep my will ironclad. I would sneak out of the house, but would only be gone for a couple of hours so that my stepmother and stepsisters would never be the wiser.

One day, just when I had gotten home from school, I couldn't find the dress in my closet.

I tore through the house, searching everywhere I could think to look. It was nowhere.

I stormed into my stepsisters' bedroom. "Did you guys take my dress?" I demanded.

"What dress?" one of them asked. I growled with frustration and hurried downstairs to my stepmother.

"Evie, I had a dress," I began before I could think better of it.

"A dress for what?"

"Elsa gave it to me for homecoming - before you told me I couldn't go. I need to - to give it back to her."

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. I thought it was one of your mother's things. It was so old and frumpy. You wouldn't have looked good in it as it was."

"What did you do with it?" I could feel my anger rising, pressing my hands into white-knuckled fists.

"I - well, I donated it. Took a load down to Goodwill this morning. I guess I could run down and check to see if it's still there - "

"That wasn't even our dress!"

"I said I'm sorry, Ella. I don't know what else you want from me."

I could feel the tears coming, but I didn't want to cry in front of her. I simply wrapped my arms around my stomach and fled.

*

The night of homecoming came. I had already explained to Elsa what had happened and she had apologetically explained that that was the only dress she could loan me, especially after what my stepmother had done with it.

I was out of options. I couldn't sneak out even if I had wanted to.

About an hour after the dance had begun, I was still sitting in my bedroom, feeling sorry for myself. My stepmother and stepsisters had gone to their rooms, although I knew the former was still awake.

Something that my stepmother had said earlier stuck with me - I thought it was one of your mother's things.

My mother had died a couple years after I was born. I didn't miss her, since I didn't remember her, but like any other parentless kid, I did often wonder what she had been like and what she would have been like with me had she lived. When my father had died to her, what little connection we had had was gone forever.

Unless there was something of hers still remaining in the house, as my stepmother had suggested.

I had nothing better to do and wasn't at all tired, so I snuck out of my bedroom, carefully passing my step-family's bedrooms.

The only place I could think to look for old stuff was the basement. There were several boxes of photo books and family heirlooms stored in its shadowy corners.

I nearly gasped with excitement when I found a box of clothing. Its top was simply labeled "MARJORIE:" my mother's name.

I pulled out a shimmering golden dress that was folded gently on top. It was absolutely beautiful, and my size. In some strange way, it made me think of my stepmother, who didn't want me to remember either of my parents.

Screw her. I'm going to homecoming in my mother's dress. I couldn't think of a single thing to make her more livid.

*

"You came!" Elsa shrieked ecstatically, flying across the cafeteria to wrap me in a tight hug.

"Yup. I managed to find a dress," I replied happily, releasing her to display my outfit.

"It's beautiful, Ella!"

"Thanks." I couldn't seem to stop grinning.

"Charlie!" Elsa called, waving to a tall, lean boy standing a short ways away. "Charlie, come here!"

"Elsa," I hissed nervously, but it was too late. He was already striding towards us.

"Hey," he greeted us, surveying me from head to toe. I felt oddly exposed - but not in a bad way.

"Oh, I think someone's calling me," Elsa suddenly announced in the worst lying voice anyone could have ever conceived of. She gave me a very obvious wink and flew off.

I laughed, embarrassment flushing my cheeks. "She's like a cartoon, I swear."

"Yeah, what are friends for?" Charlie asked sarcastically, chuckling. "She told me you wouldn't be coming tonight."

"I didn't think I was." I shrugged. "But I'm glad I did."

"I'm glad, too."

I smiled up at him, happiness burbling through my veins and replacing the usual red-hot anger. Maybe I did have to live with my evil stepmother and bratty stepsisters, but at least I could find solace in friends.

At least I had tonight.

Congratulations and thank you for a great read izzywriter2