Blizzard Girl ©

Chapter Eighteen:

After Percival's "ride to hell" (where he disobeyed most if not all traffic laws), we managed to find a parking space near the gym's exit door. As we all stepped outside of the car, we heard the music permeate through the gym doors right away.

"I miss the old fashioned dances," I heard Percival mumble quickly as he stood next to me. We both looped arms as Percival made sure the car was locked with his key fob. "Well Rachel, I can't wait to see what you've done with the place."

Rachel shrugged as she replied, "The gym is transformed, naturally. I'm amazed we had the time to assemble it all."

Even though Charlie and Rachel's arms were linked, Rachel had no trouble trudging through the snow to make it to the exit door in her kitten heels. I was so focused on this talent of hers that I only got stirred from one of her kitten heels stomping the ground. "We were supposed to have all gym doors unlocked tonight!"

Instead of walking around to where the other gym doors were open, she banged on the exit door with her fist. We stood there for a few seconds and I was about to tell her about the other open gyms doors when the exit doors got opened by another girl I briefly recognized from passing her locker in the hall. "Oh, I'm so sorry no one's unlocked these doors, Rachel." The girl opened the door wider, revealing the fact that her whole dress was one solid color as well...lime green! "A huge oversight on our part, surely," replied the girl with a smug smile on her face.

"You needn't worry, Yolanda." Then, she added when we were all inside, "The head of the spirit committee is here now." I would have felt bad for Yolanda at Rachel's words, if she didn't sneer at her with malice.

All four of us passed Yolanda without a second glance as the gym floor opened up to us. Colorful hearts, crepe streamers, and balloons (all in colors red, pink, and purple) coated the ceiling. "How did you get all those decorations up there!?" I asked Rachel. I wouldn't have been as amazed if it wasn't for the fact that the gym ceiling was three to four stories up.

"The balloons were easy. The hearts and streamers I did," Rachel said proudly. "Unlike the other spirit committee members, I'm not afraid of heights."

"You should try traveling with my family sometime." Charlie gave me a look like don't spill the beans! Since I forgot myself for a moment I added vaguely, "We can be adventurous at times when we travel together."

Percival's eyebrows lifted as an old fifties ditty started playing. He then gave me an impish grin and held his hand out to me. "Well, shall we?"

My natural instincts knew I couldn't dance with a partner. What came out of my mouth however was, "Yes, we shall." The moment my hand touched his, I broke out in fit of giggles. Yes, I didn't feel like me at all when the glowy part of me took over.

As everyone else Departed the dance floor, Percival and I walked right in the center of it. As Percival had one of our entwined hands raised at shoulder level and his other hand lightly resting on my waist he whispered, "Follow my lead and no one gets hurt." I gave him a nod and just like that, Percival let go of my waist and let me spin out before spinning back to him.

Whenever we were at ear level during our dance, he whispered calmly my parts. I kicked left, then right--we shimmied--and when the song ended, I found myself face to face with Percival with no room for the holy spirit (if you catch my drift).

When the purely instrumental song ended, no song started right after it. Instead, there was applause from the teachers and chaperones. The students were just looking at us with widened eyes as if we performed magic instead of what must've been a swing dance (at least, that's what it felt like).

As I walked off the dance floor to catch my breath, I knew Percival was following right behind me. "Wow, where did that come from."

"It came from a decade where people danced exclusively with one another." As the music picked up again--this time, a modern dance mix--Percival slightly pursed his lips. "Look at them, Ventisca. A generation afraid to hold each other's hands because they're afraid of the possibility of one act leading to something meaningful."