Authors: Maureen McGowan

Tags: #Fairy Tales & Folklore, #Juvenile Fiction, #Adaptations, #Interactive Adventures

Cinderella: Ninja Warrior (26 page)

BOOK: Cinderella: Ninja Warrior

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Knees bent, torso tight, she endured a rise, a plunge, another plunge, and then saw why the wizard had moved so slowly on the comparatively wide surface of the plank leading to the next beam.

It was covered with broken glass. Hundreds, if not thousands, of glass shards and bits glinted in the sunlight, and Cinderella couldn’t imagine walking across the beam without numerous cuts and scrapes. Fear gripped her, and as the beam rose three feet, she wobbled, almost losing her balance.

She could not give up now. If she died, she might never see Ty again, and just thinking of his face, his encouragement, his soft kiss, she felt calm enough to fight her fear.

Broken glass. No problem.

She’d never tried walking over anything sharp or hot, but had read about techniques to do so in her book. The tricks were to stay calm, carry her weight evenly, walk flat-footed, let the glass settle as she took each step, and ensure no single part of her sole took all her weight at one time.

Mind over matter. Gathering her center and building her courage, she stepped onto the plank with one foot. The edges of the glass dug in, but didn’t cut, and she drew a deep breath.

Do not panic. Do not tremble. Do not allow the glass to win.

She focused on the end of the plank and, rather than looking down, she carefully stepped forward, imagining she was walking over the grass in her garden. Step after step, she moved forward until the glass underfoot felt almost soft against her skin.

Before stepping onto the next beam, which was quickly rotating, she focused on its far end. Timing it perfectly, she stepped onto the beam and it rotated away from the end of the plank. She took two careful steps and a block of wood shot up from the beam to a height of six inches, not far from her right foot.

Her heart shuddered and her breath caught in her chest. Apparently, the course held more than one secret not visible from the arena floor, now nearly thirty feet below. She slid her focus from the end of the beam toward the place from which the block had risen.

There had to be some kind of clue as to where and when the blocks would shoot up. If one rose beneath her foot, or worse, part of her foot, she’d be tossed off in an instant. And since she was now spinning on this rotating beam, she’d not only fall thirty feet, she’d be flung to the side, and who knew where she’d land.

She searched for clues on the beam to indicate where the other blocks might rise, but couldn’t see a thing—not a line or a seam, not a break in the grain of the wood.

Careful not to let her focus drift from the beam to the swirling scene below, she returned her gaze to the end of the beam and then lifted her foot to step over the block.

Midair, she had another thought: what if the next block was placed to shoot up right ahead of the first? Instead of stepping over the first one, she placed her foot directly onto it, and it glided down into place until her foot was level with the beam again. Simultaneously, another block shot up about three feet further along.
Please let that be the next one.
She stepped forward, feeling the beam for clues or seams, until she reached the next block. Once again, she stepped directly onto it. Again it lowered under her weight and another block, this time a mere four inches ahead, was revealed.

Her heart soared. She’d figured it out.

But Cinderella couldn’t celebrate yet, not this far from the ground. She forced herself to concentrate, to keep her focus on the beam to avoid getting dizzy as it spun. The next beam, the one she couldn’t look ahead to now, was like a seesaw, tipping back and forth and changing angles as well—at times slowly, at times abruptly—and she wished she’d had time to memorize its pattern, too.

Truth was, she hadn’t considered that she might get this far. But no sense worrying about crossing that beam until she reached it. She’d have to believe her magic would help.

One by one, she stepped onto each block that arose until she reached the end of the beam. She realized the speed of the beam’s rotations had slowed, and she closed her eyes for an instant. When she opened them, she searched for the tipping beam.

All she saw at first was a blurry flash of color and light from the multicolored clothes of the crowd. Nausea started to build, but she kept her eyes open and searched until the beam came into view. Keeping her eyes on it, she went through several more rotations, snapping her head around like a dancer to spot herself each time.

The wizards had made the next transition easier than she’d expected. With every second rotation of whichever beam she was on, the level of her current beam very nearly matched the height of the next. She counted a few more rotations to be sure. No sense in getting overeager now and falling.

When she was sure, she stepped onto the tipping beam, then leaned back to alter her center of gravity as the angle grew steeper. She pressed her toes down into the wood to keep from sliding forward. But as soon as the end of the beam reached its highest height, it dropped and Cinderella skittered forward, adjusting her body to the changing slope. Reaching the fulcrum before the tipping was reversed, she looked down while she had the chance. Nothing but the ground, thirty feet below.

Her throat tightened, but she forbade fear to invade. Not now. The next beam was the highest, and from the ground it had looked as if its only challenge was a set of six man-sized bags swinging across it. All she’d have to do was reach that final beam and cross it without being knocked off.

With one foot on each side of the middle point, she balanced while the beam tipped back and forth three more times, calculating the timing to make sure she’d get to the end of the beam at just the right moment. This had looked so much easier from down on the ground.

Her muscles tensed as she braced for the right moment, and then she started up the beam as it started to tip down. When it leveled out, she sprang forward as fast as she could run, knowing if she waited too long she wouldn’t reach the end of the beam before it dipped below the level of the next.

She leaped and landed squarely on the next beam, but a huge stuffed leather bag—at least twice her height and girth—swung quickly toward her. She jumped out of the way just in time, watched for the next oncoming bag, and then the next, carefully making her way down without getting hit.

Panting, heart pounding, she reached the end of the beam and braced herself for the next danger, but then joy surged through her. There were none. Unless you counted the fact that she was thirty-five feet above the ground, standing on a four-inch-wide piece of wood with nothing to hold on to. She was done.

The roar of the crowd was deafening. Ropes appeared out of thin air, held by nothing she could see, and she raised her arms as they wrapped snugly around her, then lifted her off the end of the beam and lowered her slowly to the ground.

The announcer put his arm over her shoulders, pulled her forward, and the other contestants gathered around, offering congratulations. “Well done,” the announcer said. “No one expected an inexperienced wizard to complete that course.”

“I’m not a wizard,” Cinderella corrected him.

“Yes you are, my dear. Yes, you are.”

The announcer pointed up to the leaderboard where her points for the event flashed. They had been added to her overall score. She was in first. Ahead of everyone else. Way ahead. The announcer bent down to whisper into her ear. “Brace yourself, dear.” He straightened and a hush fell over the crowd. “The judges have reached their final decision. No remaining competitor has a chance to pass number forty-eight. She is the winner!” He bent down. “What’s your name, dear?”

Cinderella opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly froze. If the beauty competition had ended early, her stepmother might be in the crowd. The longer she could keep her escape a secret, the longer this adventure would last and the greater the chance she’d be able to speak to the royal wizard and find out the details of her lessons.

“Cat’s got her tongue,” the announcer said, and the crowd laughed. The announcer raised Cinderella’s arm high, and the crowd cheered so loudly they seemed to have forgotten they didn’t know her name.

Out of curiosity, Cinderella looked up to the box where the royal family had been watching, and a young man she assumed to be the prince bowed toward her. He was too far away to make out his features, but he was dressed in shiny satin with a fur-lined velvet cape and a simple gold crown that at this distance disguised even the color of his hair.

None of this really mattered to her. Even though she was supposed to dance with him tonight, she couldn’t go to the ball without a gown, and none of that mattered as much as finding out when and where her lessons would start and making sure she got home in time to save Max from a mousy fate.

A tall wizard in a deep brown robe handed her a bundle of flowers, then so did a female wizard in dark gray. Others added to the pile and soon she could barely see.

“Do you need some assistance?”

She turned her face out of the flowers to see a group of the six most beautiful women she’d ever seen. The one who’d spoken smiled and started to take a few bouquets off the top, handing them to the others.

“Congratulations,” she said.

“Thank you.” Cinderella curtsied. It seemed the thing to do. Given their fine clothing, these women had to be members of the royal court.

“Oh, no need to be formal.” The woman set a soft hand on Cinderella’s forearm. “I’m Jenna, one of Queen Eleanor’s ladies-in-waiting.”

“Oh, my.” Cinderella curtsied again.

But shaking her head and smiling, Jenna guided her up. “After that performance today, we should be curtsying to you.” A friendly smile bloomed on her face.

“Curtsying to me?” Cinderella was sure that Jenna was joking. “I’m nobody.”

“Nonsense,” Jenna said. “The royal wizard is looking forward to teaching you.” She winked. “As for the more important prize . . .” The ladies all giggled. “Let’s find you something to wear to the ball.”

If you were Cinderella, what would you do?

OPTION A: Cinderella should accept the lady-in-waiting’s offer. She has nearly five hours before Max turns into a mouse, and if she’s really lucky, she might run into Ty at the ball. If you think she should say “yes,” go to section 7: If the Shoe Fits (page 211).

OPTION B

Cinderella should tell the lady-in-waiting thanks, but no thanks. She barely has five hours before Max turns into a mouse, and there’s no way she’s going to take any chances. Much better to get through those woods before dark, anyway. She’d rather use what little time she has to find Ty and tell him how much she appreciated his help and support. If you think she should turn down the lady-in-waiting, go to section 8: Fall from Grace (page 245).