A/N: I was watching A Cinderella Story and I thought of this little short story. I hope you like it!

Andy Ames didn't consider himself brilliant. Back when he was in college-back at USC of course-maybe he could admit to a little intelligence, but after working for fifteen years with a bunch of teenagers that probably didn't know the difference between a Fighting Frog and a toad, he could say with 98.9% certainty that he wasn't brilliant anymore.

But after eighteen years of living with someone, isn't it a fairly safe bet that you should know them fairly well?

Apparently not, because as he sat at the impromptu pep assembly held by Austin's girlfriend-ex-girlfriend, apparently-he was quickly realizing he didn't know anything about his son anymore. Nomad? Princeton Girl? And what was all this Not-Playing-At-USC nonsense?

But it wasn't really nonsense.

His son, his only son, was sitting only a foot in front of him, yet Andy had never felt further in his life. He could see Austin's shoulders shaking, and he knew it wasn't in laughter.

"Give it up for the pretend-Cinderella, Diner Girl, Sam Montgomery!" He'd never heard the name before, but Austin apparently had, because he immediately turned around. His eyes stared straight past his father's, seeking out the girl whose name had just been called. Austin may have been staring at Sam, but Andy was looking at his son, and his heart was breaking.

How could he have not noticed this? How long had he known this girl, Sam? Did he love her? The complete shutdown he saw in his son's eyes said everything.

When Austin turned back to face the stage, Andy turned to look at the crowd in time to see a beautiful, blonde teenager (and a slightly scrawny, geeky one) turn to disappear amongst their jeering classmates. She was certainly different than Shelby-for starters, she didn't feel the need to push the school dress code limits or wear a week's worth of make-up at once.

But if Shelby's demonstration had been anything to go by-and by Austin's reaction, it certainly was-then Austin didn't love her for her beauty. It was simply an added bonus. This girl knew and accepted Austin for who he was on the inside, regardless of his star quarterback position.

If Andy had to pick a better girl for his son, this Sam beat out Shelby every day of the week.

But was she the reason behind Austin suddenly wanting to gallop off to Princeton and forget about years of training to be a USC player? Had he really been so blind to his son, so overpowered by his own desires to see his son get a full ride, that he had ignored what he really wanted?

Austin turned back, but Andy knew what he was looking for this time and he knew his son would be disappointed; the girl was gone.

And strangely, without knowing the full story, Andy knew why; his son had made a mistake, and they were both paying for it, but Austin was the only one who could fix it. Perhaps Andy was still a little unsure about the football aspect of this huge problem, but of Sam, he was sure. His son was in love with someone who really loved him, and despite his ignorance of the last few months of his son's life, he was going to help with the next few.

Since he had started working at North Valley High, Andy had known only one diner where every high school student visited at least once, if not twice a week. Sure, it had undergone a few drastic changes since the death of the original owner, but it was still Hal's in spirit if not in name.

So when he recalled the Diner Girl comment, it wasn't hard to figure out where Sam worked. It had been, he admitted, a bit of a surprise to learn Sam was Hal's daughter, that it should have been her diner (rumors of a lost will still circulated), and that she was forced to work as a waitress in her deceased father's diner.

About a week after the pep rally incident, after he'd had some time to work out what he would say, he came immediately after school-the boys wouldn't be ready to start practice for at least forty-five minutes and his assistant coach could handle drills. They wouldn't be worked too hard considering there was a game. It would be less crowded right after school, though it didn't occur to him that today might be her day off.

But it wasn't, and she was there, busing tables and smiling politely at who he assumed were the regulars.

"Can I get a cup of coffee, black?" He waited until she was swiping the counter next to him to put in his order. Did she know who he was?

"Right away, Mr. Ames." Apparently she did, he thought as she poured him a cup of coffee. Her voice was stiff, but still polite. Of course, he had done nothing to offend her, so she was kind enough to not take her anger passive aggressively out on the father of her real troubles. He respected that. His son had done well this time.

"Samantha, wait." Her full name apparently surprised her, because she awkwardly stopped moving, torn between hearing him out and pretending she hadn't heard him. "I'd like to speak to you."

"Mr. Ames, I have nothing to discuss with you and if you come bearing a message from your son, please inform him that I have nothing to say to him either." Having said her piece, she was prepared to leave when he said the only thing he could think of to make her stay. That it was true was irrelevant.

"Please, Sam. I feel like I don't know my son anymore, and you're the only one who can help me make sense of anything." She didn't step closer, but she didn't step away, and he counted that as a victory. He didn't, however, count the look on her face as one.

"I don't know him either, apparently, sir."

"Call me Andy and I think you do. Sam, since he was five and could wrap his hand around a football, he's wanted to take after his Dad and play USC football. Last week," she winced at the mention, "was the first time I'd heard anything to the contrary. And while I can't say I expected this, I can say I'll support my son in whatever he does. And, for the record, I can now truthfully say I support his choice in girls. Shelby was a horrible choice, but you seem much more respectful than she was. Very down-to-earth."

She blushed at the praise, but didn't say anything.

"Sam, I'm sorry for what my son did to you, though it's his place to apologize, not mine." Her posture indicated she agreed as her fists tightened and she avoided eye contact with him. "I think you should know that I believe-and my opinion can count for whatever you want it to based on what I've said-Austin loves you. Don't be afraid to find out just because you think you'll be wrong." And then something occurred to him and he looked over on the wall, disappointed to see an Elvis-decorated acoustic tackily stuck on the wall.

"Never let the fear of striking out..."

"...keep you from playing the game," she finished, nearly inaudible. Moments later, a door slammed and Andy turned in time to see the aforementioned tacky acoustic detach from the wall and smack the counter. Two girls, one in pink and one in green, looked in horror at the mess before a blonde...ORANGE...thing came walking in the door.

Andy was pleased to see his words, or Hal's rather, repeated on the wall and he smiled, pressing a ten dollar bill into Sam's hand.

"Always remember that, Sam. Your father was a smart man." He then exited through the opposite door that the orange beast had entered through.

It didn't surprise him when Austin ran off the field and into Sam's arms in the stands. He had heard some sort of commotion had occurred in the locker rooms earlier and he could not fully attribute it to her, something he couldn't find it in himself to be angry about.

He shouted orders to Ryan and heard the screams that told him they had won the game. Somewhere between those two events, he also felt the raindrops begin to fall, but more importantly, he saw his son-happy-with the girl he loved, completely in love.

And he realized maybe it was time to let Austin grow-up. If that meant going to Princeton, so be it. If it meant being a poet, so be it. But hopefully he would be a little easier on his father now with the surprises. Andy was good at processing, but it was beginning to be a bit much.

He didn't know his son as well as he thought.