My story

Okay, so we have to write stories for English. The updated fairy tale thing. This is my third round of an attempt it, and I actually like it. It is an update of Cinderella, and it's not that great. But here it is anyway, even though it's not done yet.

For some reason, my parents decided to call me Nemesis. Why they decided I would be named after a word commonly associated with people you hate is still a mystery to me. Maybe it was a subliminal reference to the never-said fact that they didn’t want me. That’s my guess.
My dad said that Nemesis was Zeus’ right-hand girl, Goddess of Divine Retribution and Moderation of All Things Stupid and Excessive that Nobody Really Wants Anyway (okay, okay, it’s really just Divine Retribution and Proper Apportioning of Stuff to Maintain the Equilibrium of Human-ness, but whatever). She had to balance out Tyche, the god of Fortune and Luck, because apparently he gave out undeserved favors a bit too often. Nemesis had to make sure that excessive pride, evil deeds, undeserved happiness, and the lack of moderation were not left unattended. My dad is the Greek Mythology professor at American University, so that's how he knows all of this.
Well, if that’s what my parents had wanted from me, I have to say, for two years, I failed miserably. Let me explain.
I was twelve when my mother died of leukemia. When I was fourteen, my dad got married again. I wasn’t too miffed about it, although I regularly wrote letters to my birth mother in my journal whenever I was depressed. After my dad’s second marriage, that happened a lot. The lady he married, Helga, was nice enough to me when my father was home, as were her daughters, Ophelia and Kitty, but when he wasn’t around, which happened quite often due to his long hours at work, they got quite nasty. Ophelia and Kitty were twins in the year ahead of me, and my only consolation as I entered my junior year of high school was that soon they would be in college and would probably be halfway across the country and torturing someone else. I swear, someone should have decided to call one of them Nemesis, not me, because they’re straight out evil.
I knew that my junior year was probably going to be the worst yet, because I was probably going to be having more work than ever with the million pounds of research rumored to be assigned in junior year, and with my own college search; in addition, the twins would almost certainly insist that I write their college essays for them. They were resolute that I should write every essay for them, as well as complete every single math assignment, chemistry worksheet, history paper, and grammar sheet, so they could spend their afternoons putting on their hundredth layer of mascara and lip gloss and doing their nails in a different shade of pink or yellow. It was unfair to say the least.
I only had a few friends- Zack and Mollie at school, and Natasha, Miguel, and Becky, who were the manager, cook, and a fellow waitress, respectively, at the diner I at which I worked during the summers, on the weekends, and whenever I could slip in some time. Again, people don’t really want to associate themselves with someone called Nemesis unless they’re educated in Greek Mythology and the Ways in Which Parents’ Minds Work. The diner was owned by my dearly beloved stepmother. Whenever I wasn’t working, doing homework, or staying up until half past twelve finishing my stepsisters’ homework, I was with Zack and Mollie.
One day in mid-October, the date of homecoming was announced-October 11th, a Saturday. I would have liked to go, except for the part where I had the six-to-ten shift at the diner that day, meaning that by the time I got to the dance, it would have been practically over.
“Can’t you trade shifts with somebody?” Mollie wanted to know, her hazel eyes narrowed in disapproval. She and Zack were sitting at the bar at the diner on a Sunday afternoon while I darted back and forth between serving other customers and arguing with them about my attendance at the dance, or lack thereof.
“Not likely,” I said glumly as I gave them each their soda-Sprite for Zack, Cherry Coke for Mollie.
“Come on, Nem,” Zack argued, taking a huge swallow of his Sprite, and then choking from the sudden brain freeze. Once he had recovered, he said, “You’re the only one of us who can look good in a dress.”
“Hey!” Mollie said indignantly.
“Like you’ve ever tried, Zack,” I told him, handing over a check to an elderly man. “And Mollie looks way better than I ever would in a dress, so why don’t you two go together and have a great time, and not let me be the third leg, and then you can tell me all about it that Monday. How about that?”
“No way,” both of them said together.
“Well, as I don’t have a dress-” I began, taking the check back to put the cash in the register.
“That’s fixable,” Mollie told me on the way back to the man with his change.
“Or a mask-” I started again, putting my tip in my apron pocket.
“Like a Phantom of the Opera mask?” Mollie asked. “Why would you want that?”
“I don’t know,” I said sarcastically. “Maybe I don’t want the Queens of All That Sucks to see me there and recognize me and report back to the Villainess of the Universe.” I was referring, of course, to the twins and Helga.
“I have one,” Zack suggested. “You could borrow it if you want to.”
“I would like to, yes,” I told him. “However, I don’t need to, because I’m not going.”
“Is this about that dance that’s going on this weekend?” Natasha asked, having apparently overheard the conversation.
“Yes,” I told her glumly. “But I’m not going.”
“And why not?” Natasha demanded.
“Well, maybe it’s because I’ve got the last shift of the day and about twenty applications to write for colleges I’m never going to,” I told her a bit shortly. This wasn’t going the way I wanted it to.
“Nem, what about that boy you like?” Natasha wondered. “Is he going to be there?”
“That’s irrelevant,” I snapped. I didn’t want to discuss the fact that I had a crush on the captain of the basketball team.
“Oh, so it all stems down to the fact that you don’t want Cody to know it’s you, is that it?” Mollie wanted to know.
“No, it’s that I don’t want to get fired,” I shot back. “Or disowned, or evicted, or all three at once.”
“You’re not going to get disowned for going to a dance,” Mollie said. “So what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that I can’t, because I'm going to be here all night instead,” I said. “I’m not going, all right?”
“We’ll work something out,” Natasha said confidently.

As the day of the dance loomed, I was almost certain that I was going to be looking forward to a night serving grumpy workers getting coffee before the night shift and eager dates looking forward to a night of partying, while in my off-time I would be penning college essays.




So that's all I have so far. Hope you like it. And it's partially on here so I can copy and paste when I get home. But that's irrelevant.

Goodbye.

I have to go eat lunch now.

Dang, i think this is the longest post that I've done in a while.