01 ON MY SIXTEENTH birthday, my stepmother Rosemary threw out the last of my fairytale collection. She claimed it was sitting in the attic for so long that it had begun to collect dust, but I knew that she just didn't like the way stepmothers were often portrayed in fairytales. The stepmother of Cinderella, for example, was pure evil. I wanted to tell Rosemary that the Cinderella book I had was really the Grimm Brothers' version – Aschenputtel. Then I thought better of it because Aschenputtel was a far more gruesome story than its Disney counterpart. For instance, both stepsisters cut off parts of their feet to fit into Cinderella's glass slipper and they were blinded by doves in the end. I would never wish for fictions like these to play out in reality, especially to Parker, whom I loved more than the world. Besides, all Rosemary wanted was to get rid of any prejudiced notions I harboured about stepmothers. So I let her, watching sombrely as she trudged down the stairs hauling a black bag with Aschenputtel sitting right on top of the pile of unwanted things. She threw it out in the garden where the rest of the rubbish was. And that was that. I was in a rather grave mood for the rest of the day. Part of me was psyched because I was finally sixteen – every kid wanted to grow up fast, yearned to reach that pedestal where they stood on top of the world and had everything beneath their feet. Another part of me, however, felt rather wistful. It seemed like any remnants of my childhood had been thrown out with the last of my fairytale collection. And much as I felt no strong liking for Cinderella, it was always nice to harbour some sort of wild fantasy that a prince would come sweep me off my feet someday. But Parker set it all right when he returned from work with a teddy bear that barely fit through our door. "Special delivery for my favourite princess," he said and smirked, his grey eyes twinkling under the dim porch lights. Normally, I considered myself a relatively calm sort of person. But my stepbrother had just bought me a teddy bear that was the perfect present for a three year-old; only I knew he had put in a lot more effort than that, because the bear held a red cushion in between its paws, and on the cushion sat a charm bracelet. I couldn't help but let out an ear-piercing shriek, before racing across the hallway and lunging right into Parker's arms. He caught me easily and swung me up into air as if I weighed nothing at all, before pulling me into a ginormous hug. I wound my arms tight around his neck and laughed. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," I gushed. "But you shouldn't spoil me, honestly." "Princesses are meant to be spoiled," he returned, in that smooth debonair manner he'd perfected so long ago, and set me down. "Happy birthday, sis." "Thank you," I murmured again and hugged the teddy bear this time, slipping the charm bracelet easily around my wrist. It had but one charm so far – a tiny 16 in white gold – but I was more or less certain that, knowing Parker, he'd add more charms in the future. "It's a very convenient present," I commented, wrinkling my nose as the thought suddenly came to me, "you just need to give me a new number charm each year and consider it a gift." Parker hushed me as he shut the door. "You just ruined my plans for all your future birthdays," he grumbled and I laughed. "I'll have you know I spent ages thinking of that." "You're clever, I'll give you that," I acceded thoughtfully, "but I'm cleverer still." Parker had just begun to argue when Dad and Rosemary entered the hallway and I immediately headed towards them, dragging the gigantic bear behind me. "Guess what Parker gave me." Dad and Rosemary glanced up at my voice. The bear was far too large, too obvious to escape their notice and Dad laughed while Rosemary's mouth fell open. "What in the world is that?" Rosemary exclaimed. "It's my bodyguard," I giggled, wrapping the bear's arms around me. I wasn't short by any means but still this bear towered well over me. "Just have to saddle him up with guns and a bulletproof vest and he'll be all ready to go." "Speaking of going," came Parker's voice from behind me, "do we have any plans for tonight? Because I'd like to take Isla out." My ears immediately perked up at his words because the places Parker took me was always fun. Either that or I was easy to please, but whatever the case was, I couldn't wait to see what he had in mind. I shot Dad a pleading look and he smiled at me before shrugging. "Birthday cake and the usual, but we can always have that for tomorrow." "If we are still alive by tomorrow," added Rosemary, in her usual dry manner that often made me laugh. She was sarcastic and shrewd in every way but I'd gotten so used to her that I often found her funny. "Because Isla's bodyguard looks like it could eat us all for breakfast." Her eyes twinkled and I grinned. Rosemary was often too serious and hardly ever cracked a smile, but I suppose that came with her status. She'd been a successful lawyer back in her day; a firm, no-nonsense mother who now had high hopes for her son. Parker would someday follow in her footsteps, I suppose. But I was glad he hadn't lost any of his boyish charm or fleeting moments of immaturity so far. He was now talking to our parents, and I figured he was probably telling them about his day at school. I decided to head up to change first. It took awhile to lug the bear upstairs, and Parker's voice soon stopped me. "Hey, Isla!" I leaned over the banister to look down at him. "Yeah?" "It's a black-tie event. That means no trainers," Parker added, grinning when I let out a groan in return. Grumbling under my breath, I trudged back to my room and closed the door behind me. I found a decent spot for the teddy bear – in between my bedside table and study desk – and stood it nicely against the wall. Then I stripped until I was down to my bra and knickers, before throwing open the doors of my wardrobe and staring blankly at the clothes inside. I hadn't been to many black-tie events before. Rosemary never invited my Dad or me; for the simple reason that Dad and I were sort of a package strung to her extra-marital affair. It was complicated, as rich people's lives always were, but I'll keep it simple – Rosemary was considered a mere trophy-wife of Martin Collins, but she and my Dad had been madly in love for almost six years now. Martin knew about it but he didn't care, so long as they were discreet about it. Parker had once said that his father wasn't in a good place to judge either, because Martin had a string of affairs until he fell ill a year ago. Both Rosemary and Parker had been spending more time with him ever since.