Cinderella~Ali Cummings

Cinderella


I sat through the rest of the church service silently, occasionally scribbling notes to Matthew on my notebook. “How did you learn to dance like that?” I wrote. I handed him the pencil and the notebook.
“I take a ballroom dance class every other week. You should come.” He wrote back. His writing somehow amazed me. It was neat, but it had a certain fun edge about it. My handwriting paled in comparison.
“What time?” I wrote, not even considering the fact that I might need a ride. When I handed him the notebook to answer, he grabbed it from the side I was holding it on, brushing my hand in the process. I looked up to see if he had done this on purpose, and when I saw his face, he was smiling. I blushed and turned my head down as he wrote his answer.
“It’s at 6 o’ clock ever other Friday. We have class this week. Can you come?” When I glanced at his face, it was filled with hope. I quickly wrote my answer.
“Yes.” I passed the notebook back to him, and I could almost hear him smile beside me. I heard the scratch of the pencil and then I felt the notebook in my hand. I read his response.
“Good. I like dancing with you.” I smiled and wrote on the piece of paper we were steadily filling up.
“I like dancing with you too.” I almost erased it, but I let myself hand him the notebook. He read it and wrote down something I couldn’t make out from where his arm was. Finally he handed me the notebook. His response was at least a paragraph from what I could see. I started reading.
“I can’t wait until Friday. I have so many dances I want to show you. I can show you the Cha-cha and the Swing and the Waltz and the Foxtrot. Anyway, I’m rambling. We should probably listen to the service. I’ll talk to you afterwards. You’re fun to talk to. And you’re definitely not as crazy as some of the people I’ve heard about.” He had skipped a line and drawn a picture of two people dancing. I smiled. I could almost see the figures moving. I read the writing under the picture.
“P.S. You’re a great dancer.” I smiled and tucked the notebook into my notebook. When I looked back up at him, he was looking at the pastor. I tried to do the same, but my mind absolutely would not let me focus.
After the service, Matthew and I walked out to the front of the church and sat on the front steps. I was perfectly willing to sit with him, but it somehow scared me to death as well. I didn’t like being along with boys; that was just a fear. When we started talking, the fear lessened slightly, but it didn’t disappear completely.
“What did you think of the service?” I asked. This probably wasn’t the best question, seeing as I didn’t remember much of it.
“To be perfectly honest, I couldn’t focus.” He said. “But it wasn’t boring.” He corrected himself. He smiled and I said a silent thanks to God that I was sitting down.
“Yeah, I didn’t really hear that much of it either.” I said. “Do you think you could teach me any more dances?” I asked. His face lit up.
“Yeah. I know a bunch of ‘em.” He took hold of my wrist and helped me stand. “Come on. I’ll teach you the swing.” He said, leading me down the steps and into the front lawn of the church. I knew the way myself, but I liked the feeling of my hand in his.
When we got to a patch of grass in the front of the church, he spun me around to face him and he took both of my hands. “Okay, the Swing is the first dance we learned at the class. All you have to do is step with your right foot like this.” He demonstrated the step by moving his left foot, and I copied him with my right. “Then you move your left foot the same way.” This time, we stepped at the same time. I took my eyes off of my feet for a second and looked up at him. He was smiling and my knees almost buckled.
“Then you just rock back on your right foot like this.” Again, we did the step at the same time. “Then you just keep going like that, and that’s the basic step.” He said. I looked up at him.
“That’s it?” I asked. “That’s nothing like what I thought it would be.” I said. Truthfully, it hadn’t been. I hadn’t planned for the fact that I could still dance even when all I could focus on was his smile and his eyes.
“Did you expect it to be hard?” He asked, laughing. I laughed along with him.
“Not hard, just, more steps.” I said. We danced for another fifteen minutes, and I was perfectly happy. We spent the most time with the Waltz. I liked standing close to him and twirling around with his hand on my waist. It made me feel like a princess.
Suddenly, I heard a car horn from behind me. I turned to see my fathers gold truck sitting in the parking lot. From where I was standing, I could see him inside the truck beckoning me with his hand. I turned back to Matthew who was staring at the truck as well.
“I’m so sorry. I have to go.” I said, turning to run to the truck. I picked up my purse and started to walk quickly over in the direction of the truck. When I was halfway to the truck, I heard his voice from behind me.
“Hey Cinderella, leave your shoe so I can find you!” He called. I turned back to look at him, and then looked back to the truck. I took a small notebook from my purse and a pen and scribbled my phone number and e-mail address on a piece of paper. I tore it out and folded it in half. On the outside, I simply wrote “Cinderella.”
I called back to him, “I’m afraid I need my shoe, but you can have this.” I placed the paper on the ground and ran to the truck. As we pulled out of the parking lot, I saw Matthew picking up the paper and reading it. The last thing I saw as we drove away was him smiling and putting the piece of paper in his pocket. I turned forward in my seat and smiled. I couldn’t wait until Friday.