by Maya William
Samuel jumps as Miranda made him practice over and over again, going against what ballet teaches us, making a loud bang when he lands on the dance floor, which resonates to the other side where I wait.
Here we go!
I step forward to where the lighted area illuminates me and perform the steps Miranda worked hard for me to get right. The people near me are surprised at the newcomer to the scene, taking one step backward to get a better look at me.
Miranda told us that we are recreating a mixture of two different choreographies she found on a YouTube channel. The first is Riker Lynch and Allison Holker’s performance on Dancing with the Stars. The second is one by a professional dancing couple, Maxim Kozhevnikov and Yulia Zagoruychenko.
Stretching my arms up, with sharp angles and controlled energy, I move my body to one side and quickly to the other while bringing my arms down.
As the matador meeting the bull, Samuel waits for me at the center of the stage. With several sharp twirls, I join the captain.
Miranda’s encouraging words ring in my mind, guiding me through the moves, constantly reminding me to keep my arms sharp, moving fast, while showing a proud attitude.
“You are not going to give in to his threats. You are strong, and you have every means to defeat him. If he pushes you, you shove back. If he wants you, he has to prove himself to you.”
Rodrigo and Vicente’s voices follow: “The Fire Queen is in the house.”
The fact these costumes and this scenario take this presentation to a whole different level helps to bring the strong attitude. My personal favorite part of the dance is the way my skirt flares with each movement, like the matador’s cape, flowing freely with the wind.
Thankfully, Maria and Katya join the dance floor and perform the choreography, guiding me and indirectly showing me the accuracy of my timing. Maria dances with Rodrigo and Katya dances with Vicente, but in a few seconds, they’ll step to the side, leaving me alone with Samuel, and all eyes will be on us.
No pressure, right?
The final twist arrives, and I quickly arch my back, getting a hold of Samuel’s arm for support, following Miranda’s exact instructions to avoid injuring myself.
He holds me up while the rest of his crew moves to the sidelines.
And now, there’s nowhere to hide. The spotlight’s on us.
The lover’s quarrel begins. Pulling, twirling, wrapping me in his arms and moving away. One taunting the other, too much pride to relent, yet not enough courage to run away, until we reach one of the critical points, a part of the choreography Miranda took from Yulia and Maxim.
We raise one of our arms, sharp, straight, and precise, stopping at a ninety-degree angle while stomping our feet hard. Samuel smiles when our moves happen at the same time like the sound of swords being drawn.
He jumps forward, and with a loud thump, challenges me to a fight.
En garde!
Our arms and legs become our weapons and, in my case, so does the skirt.
We move our extremities upward and downward at the same time, in sync with the sound of swords clashing; our personal dancing duel.
Taking one end of my skirt, I move it from side-to-side while the sound of a sword cutting the air resonates through the room. He turns before our swords collide and waits for me to come at him again with a cocky expression, as if saying, “You missed me,” but our dueling time comes to an end, and now we must continue to dance.
We continue dancing this extraordinary style, and while it feels strange to me because it’s so different from ballet, I love the strong personality it requires we express.
Seductive, raw, harsh, and yet beautiful.
The dance is over almost before I know it, the sound of cannons alerting us that the end is near. Samuel pulls me to his chest and wraps his arms around my waist, staring fiercely straight into my eyes while the last cannon blast echoes through the room.
The round of applause quickly follows while I try to catch my breath. Knowing we nailed the dance, I can’t help but laugh. I hope someone recorded it and will send it to Miranda so she can appreciate the result of her hard work.
Samuel takes hold of my waist and pulls me closer.
“Look at Joy!” he whispers and points to the audience where our group of friends stand together.
Joy jumps up and down, beaming. Quickly, she hugs Abigail, Lyra, and Barbara, who seem delighted at this display of emotion.
Joy then turns, her gaze singles me out, and she runs toward me. If Samuel wasn’t holding me, she could easily tackle-hug me. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! It was unbelievable! I loved it!”
Laughing, Samuel puts his arms around us. “Happy Birthday, Joy! Now, go and thank the rest of the guys. The performance was also their idea.”
Joy smiles and, with a quick salute to the captain, leaves us behind. The dancing music starts, and the dance floor quickly fills with our friends and the other students.
“You danced amazingly, Señorita Swann,” Samuel whispers, still in character.
“You too, Captain Sparrow,” I reply, finally able to enjoy the closeness of his handsome face.
And those gorgeous eyes. BG, you’re killing me.
“Come, let’s bid farewell to me hearty crew. They need to leave soon,” he says in a strangely slurred, yet sexy voice, “and you, Miss Swann, owe Cap’n Jack Sparrow a dance.”
His serious demeanor makes me giggle.
He steps backward and extends his hand, asking me to join him.
When I shake my head, he steps back toward me in one long stride. “You deny me the pleasure of dancing with you, and yet you honored my brother with such delights?”
It’s partially true, but…
My eyes go to the dance floor. Nervously, I bite my lip and eye him. “I don’t know how to dance the style everyone else is dancing.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “I beg to differ. I’ve seen some of your moves, and you can easily out-dance any of them.”
“No, I promise you. I don’t know how to dance this style,” I confess. “Plus, my feet are killing me from these heels.”
He looks at me, then sighs.
“One problem at a time. Shall we?” He offers me his arm, which I quickly take. “First, we bid farewell to the crew, then change your shoes, and afterward, I’ll teach you how to dance. Sound like a plan?”
Before I can give him an answer, a voice interrupts us. “Samuel.”
We both turn toward the source.
“I need your help with a small situation at the entrance,” Father Gomez says once he reaches us. “There’s a guy who swears he’s the person on the ID, but we aren’t able to tell for sure. Can you help us?”
The smile disappears from Samuel’s lips. “Of course,” he sighs. “I’ll be right back, beautiful.”
I let go of his arm. “I can go and get my shoes in the meantime.”
Before I can escape, he pulls me closer to him and kisses my temple.
“I’ll be quick,” he promises, releasing me, his eyes boring into mine.
He then turns and joins Father Gomez.
Then I shall be quick myself.
When I’m halfway to the dressing room, my hand flies to my forehead as I remember packing my shoes inside my bag that Kellan took to the car. I turn and scan the main room, searching for Kellan, and my heart leaps when I spot his tall figure standing close to the refreshment table, where he’s discussing something with a guy I don’t recognize.
Dragging my feet, I reach them and shyly tap Kellan on the arm. “Uhm, Kellan?”
He turns and smiles at me. “Samantha, excellent dancing.”
He steps to one side, opening a gap for me to join him and his friend.
“Uhm…thanks. You also did great with the show.” I nervously eye the other guy.
He isn’t wearing a costume, making me believe he’s part of the security staff Father Gomez hired.
I return my attention to Kellan. “I didn’t mean to interrupt
you, but can I borrow the car keys? I need to get my flats. These heels are killing me.” I lift my skirt and point to my feet, making him chuckle and shake his head.
“Don’t let Barb hear you. She’d say that calling heels painful is blasphemy,” Kellan warns, making the other guy laugh.
I bet she would. But, honestly, I don’t care.
A girl in a tight black leather suit comes into view. The outfit and a red wig make Barbara look like the perfect Black Widow, but her green eyes and devilish smile betray her real identity.
“I’ll go with you to get them,” Kellan offers.
I don’t want to take him away from his conversation.
“Samuel can come with me. He went to help Father Gomez with a mix-up,” I explain. “Plus, Barb’s waiting for you over there.” I point to her.
Kellan’s attention goes to her, and his always-serious expression disappears, his mouth forming an O.
Yeah, we’ve lost him.
“Samuel will follow you?” Kellan asks, his eyes still on Barb.
I bite my lip to keep from laughing at his reaction. “Yes, he will.”
He hands me the keys, then joins Barb in a few strides, the poor guy he was talking to completely forgotten.
“See you later, man!” the guy yells, but Kellan doesn’t seem to hear him. “I’ll never get caught drooling for a girl like that.” Rolling his eyes at me, he leaves the beverage table.
Dude, never say never.
The Seaweed is Not Always Greener
I search for an empty chair to wait for Samuel; unfortunately, none are vacant.
Just my luck!
Moving to plan B, I crane my neck and rise onto my tippy toes, hoping to catch sight of him. Instead, Rodrigo and Vicente come toward me with their bags in their hands.
Well, I might be able to kill two birds with one stone: they can accompany me to the car to get my shoes while I thank them.
“Rodrigo! Vicente!” I scream and wave my arms over my head, hoping to draw their attention over the loud music.
When he catches sight of me, Vicente raises his arms, then bows. “Our fire queen!”
Or, I think that’s what he said. I can’t tell for sure over the loud music.
Quickly, I join them to avoid shouting more than necessary.
“Such a prodigy—” Vicente shouts, but I can barely hear him over the music. “Maria keeps you under—”
Well, this isn’t going to work.
“Can we go outside to talk?” I point my finger toward the exit.
Rodrigo nods and Vicente motions for me to guide them.
They move through the people with ease, giving me the impression they’re used to such big crowds—unlike me, trying to make myself as little as possible.
We reach the door, and my ears thank me when we leave the loud dance floor behind. The cool breeze and the lack of people makes my back muscles relax.
“I wanted to thank you for your support this week,” I say truthfully. “It’s been such an amazing experience meeting you both and being taught how to paso doble.”
Rodrigo smiles and nods, accepting the compliment. “Likewise, my queen.” He claims my hand and kisses the top.
“Wait! Hold on!” Vicente takes his phone out of his pocket. “Let me record this and send it to Miranda and Maria. We need evidence! Otherwise, they won’t believe she liked dancing with us.”
I chuckle at his goofiness.
“Ignore him. I hope to have the pleasure of dancing with you in the future.” Rodrigo winks at me.
“Kiss-ass!” Vicente smirks while putting his phone away, making his partner laugh.
“Actually, I wanted to ask another favor. My flats are in my bag in the car. Can you accompany me so I can get them?”
“I know, right?” Vicente says. “After a while, those heels are a bitch.”
My hands fly to my mouth, but this time from amusement rather than shock at him saying a bad word. After all, he does understand the pain after wearing them last Tuesday when he danced with Samuel.
Father Gomez designated the parking lot in front of the convention center for the guests and reserved the lot at the rear of the building for event staff and organizers to make more room for the guests and to avoid assigning a permanent security guard in the area.
As we walk, we continue chatting about the show. Rodrigo explains he got stuck dancing with Maria because he lost the coin flip. I laugh as he tells me how she constantly corrected him during the whole performance.
When we reach the parking lot for event staff, only one streetlamp barely illuminates it. With how isolated the area is, I now understand why Kellan insisted on chaperoning me.
Okay, Big Guy, where’s the serial killer?
My traitorous mind makes shadows transform into hands, reaching out to grasp me, prepared to take me to the underworld. A strange, squeaking sound echoing through the lot, allowing my imagination to run wild with the idea.
Is that a chainsaw? Nah! Probably my mind playing tricks on me.
Oblivious to my wild thoughts, the guys continue joking and making fun of each other.
Squeaaakkkk! Scrrritttchhh!
Their hands stop me from moving any farther, their voices quieting.
OMBG, I didn’t imagine it.
“Stay here, Samantha,” Rodrigo whispers. “Vicente, you go left. I’ll go right.”
Vicente nods while Rodrigo crosses to the other side of the car. They walk toward the area where the sound came from, and it grows louder.
Please, Big Guy, let them be all right.
Vicente signals Rodrigo, indicating with his hands he spotted the threat, and he raises one finger, counting.
As if I’m watching a horror movie, my hands fly up to cover my eyes, but the gap between my fingers allows me to watch.
Vincente lifts the second finger.
Please don’t let it be someone armed with a chainsaw or a knife.
As he lifts the third one, they jump into the small aisle between the two cars.
A figure jerks up. It turns forward and focuses on Rodrigo. Backing away from him, the guy runs into Vicente. They duck away from Vicente’s reaching hand. Rodrigo closes in on the guy, but the guy is fast and strong. He takes advantage of the small gap between the cars, jumps onto the trunk, and slides through the gap, escaping once again.
“Call for help, Samantha!” Rodrigo shouts, before sprinting to catch the guy, Vicente following him close by.
What if someone’s hurt and needs help?
Curiosity killed the cat, and instead of running for help, I head to the place where the guy sprang from.
When I get there, the breath returns to my lungs when I don’t find a human victim. Unfortunately, a car didn’t have the same luck. My eyebrows shoot up as I read the appalling word scrawled across it, from the front of the car to the back door.
I believe more than one Hail Mary is in order.
For a moment, I suspect that a Calvary student who wasn’t allowed to enter took their revenge by vandalizing one of my friends or family’s cars, but I don’t recognize the blue Honda with a big sticker of a palm tree on the trunk.
Help. Right!
Lifting my skirt, I run to find a security guard, praying for Vicente and Rodrigo to be safe.
Halfway around the side of the building, I see a guy heading my way, wearing a black T-shirt with the word Staff on it.
“A guy vandalized a car in the reserved parking lot,” I pant as I reach him.
He narrows his eyes at me as if wondering if I might be crazy.
“A blue Honda with a big palm tree on the trunk was the victim,” I explain, hoping to get a reaction out of him.
“Shit!” His hand lifts, pressing a button to activate the microphone on his headset. “Father Gomez, we need you in reserved parking, right now.”
Another Hail Mary is in order.
The guy finally sprints in the direction I told him, leaving me alone. At this point, I’m doing the duckwalk Brittany enj
oyed teasing me about back at Saint Magdalene.
Oh, brother! I may not be able to retrieve my flats anytime soon.
With my feet protesting every step, I make my way back to the party to allow the security people to take care of the problem. Hopefully, Vicente and Rodrigo managed to catch the guy responsible, or at least got a good look at him.
“Give me your ID,” a demanding female voice from the main parking lot interrupts my stride. “They won’t let me in with mine.”
“But… I paid for my ticket,” a girl replies in a shaky voice.
“I’ll pay you back for it,” the other girl snaps.
The smart thing to do would be to go inside and alert someone from security about this situation. However, it’ll be easier for the security staff if I can identify the girl trying to steal an ID, or at least know what she’s wearing.
“But, what am I going to do? My parents won’t pick me up for three more hours.” The shakiness turns into sobs.
“Not my problem,” the other girl says. “For all I care, you can go to the church and pray in the meantime.”
Oh, heck! I can’t just stand here and let this happen.
Silently, I move through the cars like Vicente and Rodrigo did. But my steps aren’t as silent because of the darn heels.
When I spy the bright red wig, purple bra, and very short, green skirt, my eyes widen.
Ariel!
Slowly, I move backward, but the wind, not being my friend at the moment, picks up and rustles through my skirt. The sound alerts Portia and her little victim of my presence.
Shift!
Portia turns to me with a big smile, putting her hand on her hip. “Samantha, hi! Funny thing, I was about to call you.”
Sure you were.
My best course of action would be to act as if I just got here. “What seems to be the problem?” My eyes go from Portia to the teary girl.
“You know, I was helping her find her ID. She accidentally dropped it a few steps away.” She hands the student ID to the girl, who wipes away her tears with the back of her hand.
She takes it and scurries away.
“How thoughtful of you.” I place my hands on top of my heart and use the same fake joy she previously displayed.
“Yeah, you know, that’s how I roll,” she says with an unnatural, high-pitched voice.
