Sincerely Cinderella

PROLOGUE
CINDY

“EVERYONE NEEDS to feel small once in a while,”
Dad said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

I took my gaze away from the stars and looked
over at his face. The lines there seemed deeper than usual, and not just from the long shadows cast by the fire. We were both getting older, about to start new chapters in our lives.

His lips lifted a little. Not a smile, but some-
thing in the family. “Sometimes it’s easy to get so wrapped up in the nitty gritty of daily life we forget
how small of a piece we are in the universe.” He
lifted an arm and pointed at a star.

I squinted one eye and followed his finger.
“Cassiopeia.”

“Good one,” he said. “That star at the top. How
many lightyears do you think it is away?”

A cold wind swept around us, and I pulled my
blanket up tighter against my chin. “I remember
this one...two hundred thousand?”

“Close. Two hundred and twenty. Imagine how
big it must be, and from here, it’s barely a pinprick
of light.” He paused. “Imagine how tiny we are
compared to that little pinprick. We’re not even a
speck of dust.”

I got that feeling. That small feeling Dad was
talking about. But it didn’t seem scary right now
like it used to when I was little. It seemed incredible, like there was this massive universe out there,
and I was somehow lucky enough to be a part of it.

“So,” he said, “you’re turning eighteen in
about...” He pressed the button on his watch so it
lit up. “Three minutes. Before you know it, you’ll be
going to college, choosing a major, making
friends...falling in love.”

My pulse quickened, thinking of Ryan. It might
have been soon, but I was already in love.

Dad continued, “But there will be hard things
too. My best advice that I can give you is when
things get difficult, look at the stars. They’ll put
things in perspective.”

I lifted a corner of my mouth. “Thanks,
astronomer.”

He laughed. “My doctorate degree had to come
in handy sometime.” His watch chimed midnight.
“Happy birthday, Cindy.”

I nudged his arm. “Thanks, Dad.”

“You’re welcome, kid.” He shifted and aimed his
gaze back toward the stars. “But you know, no
matter how big the universe is...”

I smiled and finished the line, “You love me just
a little bit more.”

Dad and I fell asleep under the stars that night
in our tent that didn’t quite stand up right. When I
woke up, my hair was frizzy from the dewy morning
and I had bags the size of Texas under my eyes, but
Dad made coffee over a campfire. It tasted awful,
but I didn’t tell him that.

My phone went off, and I checked the message.

Ryan: Happy birthday beautiful.

I smiled.

“The boyfriend?” Dad teased.

“Who else?” I laughed and sent a message back.
Cindy: See you soon?

Ryan: Of course, baby. Get ready for an
awesome day.

“Can we pack up?” I asked.

Dad downed the rest of his coffee. “You didn’t
want to get a hike in?”

“It’s Oklahoma,” I said. “We won’t be missing
much.”

Dad frowned, but he nodded. “Anything, pump-
kin.” He put his hands on his hips and stared at the tent we’d barely managed to put together. “Help me
with this, will you?”

“Sure.”

We struggled through packing it up and ended
up putting a mass of tarp and tentpoles into the
trunk. He shoved it down, and I sat on it so it
would latch.

He high fived me. “That’s my girl.”

I laughed and shook my head. We should have
been better at dealing with the tent by now. “There
has to be a tent that’s easier to put together.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” He winked
and walked to his side of the car.

I got in, and we started down the highway. Dad
blasted the air conditioner and turned the radio to classic rock. Aerosmith blared through the speakers, and I sang along, not caring that the song was twenty years behind my time. It was just my dad
and me and the open road with my boyfriend
waiting to have the perfect day with me back home.

But a semi swerved.

And we didn’t make it home.

I didn’t make it to my date.

I barely made it at all.

I couldn’t remember much of the first few
weeks, between the medication and the pain and
the bandages they left wrapped around my face. I
did remember asking for my dad. He was supposed
to be taking me home. But they said he was gone.

And not just in another room.

That was when the dark months got even
darker.

I just didn’t realize that the dark months would
never end. That no matter how much I wanted to, I’d never be able to see the stars through the dark-
ness again.