So I didn't get to go to the prom, I had to clean my room

So I didn't get to go to the prom, I had to clean my room. How cruel. Not that anyone wanted to go with me, though. But my stepsister Tiffany, she had guys crawling all over her. My mom and dad got divorced five years ago, and I stayed with my dad. He married Ms. Mary Banks, who keeps trying to "bond" with me by taking me to the mall. I figured out that if I showed a tiny bit of improvement every time I went to the mall, but didn't ever actually completely "bond", she would keep taking me to the mall. Jackpot! Anyway, she already had a daughter, Tiffany Banks. Thin, blond, girly-girl type. I hated her as soon as I met her. I think she hated me before that.

I'm Ella. Ella Sindre. Now, say that backwards. Sindre Ella. Cinderella. When they do roll call at school, they call your last name first. It sucks. Anyhow, I couldn't go to the prom. Dearest darling dad grounded me until I cleaned my room. Meanwhile, he and Mary (I wouldn't call her mom) were out at dinner. He told me he'd be home a little after midnight. That was, in my opinion, really stupid. I'm seventeen. I think he knows what happens when he gives me four hours alone in the house while I want to be somewhere else.

As soon as he was gone, I ran upstairs, threw all my stuff under my bed, and pulled on jeans and a blouse. The prom was supposed to be extra-casual. I did a quick make-up check and ran downstairs. As I was running around, looking for the keys, I heard a meow from the corner. Whipping around, I saw my cat, Ferrie, with the keys under her paw. I grabbed them, slid into my Crocs, and ran into the night.