Hey! Here's the next chapter. Reviews are, of course, very appreciated.
By the way-I might not be updating soon, because of NaNoWriMo. (If you don't know what that is, it stands for National Novel Writing Month, when you try writing a 50,000 word novel in a month.) I'll try, though. Anyway-enjoy!
I swear, that ballroom would've made Cinderella proud. It was practically dripping with lace and fringe, and all other kinds of detestable decorations. All around, I saw preppy girls bouncing up and down, and guys gripping drinks, looking like they'd rather be anywhere else. Sighing, I made my way over to the snack table. This looked like it would be a great night! (Note the sarcasm?)
"This looks like fun, doesn't it?" I looked up quickly. A tall boy was standing in front of me, in a tuxedo. He had a Phantom of the Opera mask, short blond hair, and sparkling blue eyes.
"Mind reader, huh?" I replied, grinning. Inside, I felt shocked at myself. Me, the Goth, had just made conversation. What was the world coming to?
"I try," he said, grinning back. He looked over at a raised stage, which had a microphone set up. Looking back at me, he shifted from foot to foot, blushing madly. "I-I hear that they don't assign partners. Would you, uh, like to be my partner?" he blurted out quickly, then paused for air. I stared at him. I thought I'd be all alone the whole night, just standing in a corner while everyone was off dancing. But here was a random boy asking me to dance, and he sounded nervous about it, too. Like he was afraid I'd say no.
"Sure," I said hesitantly, and his whole face split into a huge grin, like he'd just won the lottery. "But I need to call you something," I pointed out, and he looked at me thoughtfully. "And you need a name for me, too." We stood thinking for a moment.
"You can call me Phantom," he decided, smiling. I almost laughed at the irony, but kept a straight face. "And I'll call you…Angel!" I scowled at him, and he grinned sheepishly.
"Do I look like an angel to you, buddy?" I put my hands on my hips and cocked my head at him. He looked at me seriously for a minute, and replied, "Yeah, actually, you do." I stared at him, flustered, and I actually blushed. Hey, readers, if you ever want to visit me, I'll probably be in the asylum by morning. I mean, seriously, who am I again?
"Thanks," I muttered, looking at my feet. Which were still my boots. I swished the dress a little so that it would cover them.
"No problem," he replied, a little too cheerily, grabbing my hand and literally dragging me to the dance floor as music started to play. Okay, you may not know this about me, but I used to take dance lessons, when I was, like, seven. I stopped soon enough, but the damage was done. I am now forever cursed to know how to dance hundreds of steps, some of which are too horrible too remember.
This was the waltz. We glided gracefully around the dance floor, as if we were moving on air; I hadn't danced, really danced, in a long time.
It felt good.
"So, Phantom," I said casually, breaking the eerie silence between us. It felt strange to call him that, like I was talking to Danny or something.
"So, Angel," he replied (casually!), grinning at me as I scowled at him. "I guess we should be, uh, 'getting to know each other better'? So, mind if I ask a few questions?"
"Ask away," I said as he twirled me, and Phantom smiled. I smiled stupidly back at him, and then turned it back into a scowl. He just laughed.
"What's your, um…favorite hobby?" I snickered.
"Nice one," I replied, still laughing as he shot me a glare. My hobby was probably actually ghost hunting since me and Tucker did it almost every day with Danny, but… "My hobby would probably be escaping from my mom and her frilly pink dresses," I declared.
"Ouch," Phantom replied, wincing sympathetically. I nodded grimly, memories washing over me…I shuddered. "Are you cold?" he asked, concerned, taking his hand off my waist and putting it to my cheek, stopping our dance for a split second.
I froze. It was like someone had taken a picture of us; neither of us moved; we just stared into each other's eyes for a brief second. Then Phantom lowered his hand quickly and continued dancing.
"My turn to ask a question now," I said, the blush that had crept up my cheeks gone. He nodded, looking a little breathless. "What's your favorite hobby?" Phantom nearly tripped over his own feet when I spoke, blushing.
"Promise not to tell anyone?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the music and noisy feet. I laughed.
"How can I? I don't even know who you are, Phantom," I replied, and he grinned.
"Actually…I like to songwrite," Phantom admitted quietly, looking ashamed. I stared at him, confused.
"Why would that be a bad thing?" I asked. "It sounds really cool to me." Phantom shook his head, sighing.
"My friends wouldn't think so," he said under his breath, just so that I barely caught it.
"Then they aren't real friends," I replied, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. Looking up, Phantom smiled at me. "Now, let's dance!"
We whirled and twirled around the dance floor like we were floating, the music carrying us. When the music stopped, I collapsed in a chair, worn out. Phantom sat in a chair beside me.
"You know," he said loftily, "I'm a football player." Phantom said it like he'd just told me the cure to cancer. I snorted.
"Don't worry," I replied. "I promise not to kill you because of it." He looked confused.
"Don't you think that it's awesome? I mean, I thought girls loved football players!" I snorted again.
"Maybe stupid girls do," I said. "But don't you think it'd be cooler if they liked you for who you are, not because you wear a letter jacket?" He nodded thoughtfully.
"I've never told anyone this before," he started hesitantly, "but, actually, I don't like to play football that much." I looked at him, surprised.
"Then why do you play it?" I mean, not to state the obvious, but hello.
"My dad," he answered, his voice so low I could barely hear it. "He's basically living the life he wishes he had lived in high school. A-List, football, dating the popular girls…" Phantom's voice trailed off. It had been rising in anger.
I put my hand on his shoulder. "You control your own life," I said. "Don't let your dad live it for you." He smiled at me.
"Thanks, Angel," Phantom replied, ignoring my glare. "You've really helped me."
"All in a days' work," I replied casually, leaning back in my chair. He laughed, and then grabbed my hand as the music started back up. "C'mon, let's go!" Phantom said enthusiastically, dragging me to the dance floor again. But, actually, I didn't really mind.
I was falling for my dance partner.