If the Shoe Fits (Completed)

Part 5

The parking lot at the town hall was a madhouse, full of bad teenage drivers just wanting to get inside. And to make it worse, many of the girls were either driving in heels or barefoot, which was just a hazard. Always practical Ailia had brought tennis shoes to wear as she drove; she could then just put the glass slippers on when they arrived.

Somehow, the girls managed to get a parking spot. Bibi started to get out of the car but Ailia shouted, “Wait!” Something was in her hand.

Bibi took it, confused, until she realized what it was. “Thanks.” She said, relieved. She put the purple mask on, careful not to mess up her hair.

“Anytime.” Ailia already had her pearly white one on. If she hadn’t helped her get ready, Bibi probably would have barely recognized her.

The girls linked arms and went through the wide double doors, where a table was set up for entry. They handed over their tickets and received a small badge for readmission. Straight ahead was the main dance floor; couples could already be seen mingling or helping themselves to the juice bar. To their left were stairs that led up to where they would be announced and able to descend to meet their princes.

“This is so exciting!” Ailia squeezed Bibi’s arm as they went up the stairs and down a long hallway. At the end was the grand staircase: red carpet in the middle and gold along the edges, the curved balustrades leading down to the dance floor below.

A man was standing at the top of the stairs, a clipboard in his hands and a microphone at his side. A pretty blonde girl was already making her way down the stairs, her handsome date –a stocky, muscled boy –waiting at the bottom.

Ailia gave the man their names and they waited until the girl was whisked away for their own names to be read. Ailia unconsciously dug her fingernails harder into Bibi’s arm; Bibi was thankful she was wearing such long gloves.

The man motioned to Ailia that she was next and she let go of Bibi, moving to stand at the top step. The spotlight fixed itself on her, illuminating her until she was dazzling.

“I now present, CinderAilia and her escort, Prince Charming!” The man spoke loudly and clearly, his voice reverberating through the spacious room.

Ailia smiled brightly and started down the steps. Because of her and her date’s unique names, almost all eyes in the room were upon her. But when she was about three-fourths down the stairs, she faltered. She even stopped momentarily to gaze back at Bibi, her clear eyes frightened.

Bibi looked back at her, confused. Then she glanced down and realized what was wrong: there was no date waiting for Ailia at the bottom. No Prince ready to sweep her away. Bibi gathered the skirt of her dress in her hands, prepared to dash to Ailia’s side and escort her the rest of the way down.

But then there suddenly was a young man at the bottom of the steps. He was tall, with curly brown hair. A white mask covered his slightly familiar face, making it almost impossible to know of his identity. But what was really surprising was what he held in his hands. For there, cupped in his palms, were Ailia’s glass slippers.

Ailia’s gasp traveled all around the room as she looked down at her feet, horrified. Bibi covered her mouth in disbelief. Ailia was still wearing the old, battered tennis shoes she wore to drive here. And, because of the length of her dress, they were clearly visible to everyone in the ballroom. Titters flowed through the crowd as everyone else realized this too. Ailia’s face went scarlet and she turned, ready to run back up the steps, but a soft voice made her freeze.

“Wait up, beautiful.” To everyone’s amazement, the young man hurried up the stairs until he was just a few steps below Ailia. He bent down to one knee, setting the glass slippers gently to the side. He took Ailia’s ankle in his hand and began to untie her laces.

Ailia tried not to hyperventilate by focusing on how itchy her nylons were.

Once he succeeded in getting both her sneakers off, he picked up one of the glass slippers. Taking her ankle once-again, he gently –almost hesitantly –slid her foot into it, never breaking eye contact the entire time.

Ailia forgot how to breathe as he slipped the other slipper on. All she could focus on were his kind brown eyes and the familiar upsweep of his brow.

He held out a hand to her, palm up. She took it. Holy palmer’s kiss. The young man drew her close to her side as they began to descend the staircase.

“Would it be too forward of me, my lady, if I whispered sweet nothings in your ear?” His warm breath caused shivers to trail down Ailia’s back.

“I should think it would not be forward enough.” She whispered back, thrilled at her own daring.

“Then I shall just go forward.” He mumbled before turning so he and Ailia were face-to-face at the bottom of the steps. He moved forward, dipped her back, and kissed her.

*

From atop the steps, Bibi watched, shocked to her strappy heels, as her best friend was kissed by Prince Charming. Prince Charming, who –now that she thought about it –looked strikingly familiar.

The announcer seemed unfazed by this entire fiasco and merely ambled down the steps to grab Ailia’s sneakers, which were still leaning against the balustrade. “She can get them before she leaves.” He said to Bibi, tucking them into a corner. She nodded.

Finally, Ailia and Prince Charming finished their kiss and moved into the dance floor. Ailia waved enigmatically to Bibi, a large grin stretching across her lovely face. She mouthed a name –most likely Prince Charming’s true identity –that Bibi couldn’t quite catch. Bibi shook her head, meaning she didn’t understand. Ailia just waved a hand, telling her that she’d inform her after Bibi met her date.

Bibi nodded, her stomach feeling queasy and light. This was it. It was time.

“I now present,” the announcer’s voice seemed, if possible, even louder as people shifted and chatted on the floor below, “Sugarplum and her escort, the Dashing Duke!”

Under normal circumstances, Bibi would’ve snorted at her date’s chosen name. However, due to the situation, all she could focus on was her nickname. The nickname that she had only ever heard two people use.

Bibi held her head high, one hand having a tight hold on her skirt and the other on the railing, as she descended. A striking young man stepped out from a nearby crowd and positioned himself at the bottom of the steps, watching her patiently as she made her way down.

He had brown hair, but that was almost all Bibi could tell. The rest of his face was covered in a gold mask lined with the same shade of purple as Bibi’s dress. Bibi scrutinized him, wishing she could have a clearer picture, but she was too faraway

It wasn’t until she was almost to the last step and her eyes met her date’s that it clicked.

“Hello, sugarplum.”

She gasped, lost her footing, and tripped down the rest of the stairs.