Marcella Wellington's POV
When I was a child, my parents always scolded me when I did something wrong. My sass wasn't always appreciated by them. Sometimes it made me question if I could act like my true self around my parents.
With time I noticed how relieved I would feel after dancing, my heart rate would lower, and my scrambled thoughts would calm down. The emotions eating me up inside would settle, and I would have a clear mind. That was how dancing became my outlet.
As my body moves with the beat and I match the tempo with my emotions, it allows me to create a deeper connection with myself. When words fail me, dancing is another language I became fluent in.
Along with sarcasm of course.
It became not only a language for me but for Lucas, Giá and Nate.
"Guys, I want to dance," Nate says after acting mute for three days.
Giá wheels Nate in his wheelchair while Lucas and I walk behind them.
"I assume you ladies are going to comply with his request?" Luca grumbles.
Lucas watched Nate like a mother hawk after the hospital personnel left us with him after his anxiety attack. A strange expression rested on his face till the Lealtad clan showed up.
Giá shrugged and continued pushing Nate's wheelchair to a nearby park while Lucas and I fell in step behind them.
"So, how was your talk with Xena?" Lucas asks.
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I shudder every time I think about it. After Abuela gave me a lecture that knocked a few years off my lifespan, Diego drove me to school on Tuesday. I went straight to the Editor's Lair and walked into her office. The whole place was trashed, and she was smoking pot with a dead look in her eyes. I felt guilty that I might have messed things up further for her. I rethought my actions on the spot.
"What do you want, Marci?" She took the stick in between her lips and inhaled.
"What are your plans for the talent show coming up?" I watch him keenly and stay closer to the door.
She blew out a cloud of smoke. "The talent show can go and fuck itself."
An eye roll left my features, and I walked out of the room. There was no way I could reason with her in that state, and there was also no hope of this show holding unless I could get someone from the Editorial team to get the fliers printed out and tie up some loose strings.
As the week progressed, I was able to convince some of Diego's classmates to interview the contestants, while I was lucky enough to talk to the principal to agree with the prize I had in store for the winner. The only thing left was to convince an Editor to get the fliers printed out, and I knew just the man for the job.
During lunch on Thursday, Lucas, Giá and I cornered a certain Editor that owed us favours. Felix was in the company of the druggies and the smokers and looked close to tears. One of them held out a knife and approached him. I can assure you that getting involved with this kid will be more hassle than getting fleas off a dog.
We stopped next to the group, and I coughed to get their attention. The ring leaders of the two groups looked up and gave us sceptical looks.
"How much does he owe you, people?" I surveyed the crowd.
The top dogs of the groups exchanged looks, and one of them spoke, "One thousand dollars."
Giá whistled, making them turn their heads towards her, "That's quite a large amount. If you get your cash, are you willing to let him go?"
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♤PACTS♤
General FictionBook Two in The Dealer's Series "If I knew this year would turn out like this, I would have gladly stayed in the last one." ♤♤♤♤ Him - "If we survive this, we need to throw a damn party." Who's to say that a man who has a thing for gingers doesn't h...
