It's A Dance

It's A Dance (2)

It was nearly two months later on Christmas Eve when I was storming out of my house. My scarf was blowing in the breeze and my hat was snugly covering my ears. My mother, currently drunk out of her mind, burned my dance bag and the two or three presents I had in a metal garbage can out back.

I climbed up the fire escape and into the dance studio. The mirrored wall was covered with fluorescent post-it notes. I took off the first one and looked at it.

I want to earn it-D, the first one said.

The next ones were all small notes to me. They told me stories about him and his family. From lighting his bed on fire to his issues with a football player on his team. His hopes and dreams were plastered all over the place and I collected every note and sat reading. It took me about two hours to get through all of them.

Two months was a lot of time to not talk to anyone. Then it struck me. I was alone on Christmas Eve.

tears leaked from my eyes slowly. With a soft sob I pulled my knees into my chest and closed my eyes while leaning against a wall.

My mind was a dark place to be in right then. My mother didn't love me. My father was secretly trying his best. I had one friend and I had pushed away the chance of another. I was the biggest idiot in the world and on more than one occasion I wished I was six feet under.

"Want to talk about it?" Daxton's rich voice rumbled as light footsteps approached me. I wiped my eyes and shook my head.

I watched his movements carefully. The right side of his mouth twisted into a slightly crooked smile as he noticed all his notes around me. He moved slowly to sit beside me and handed me a bag I hadn't even noticed was in his hand.

"What's this?" I asked curiously.

"A present," he replied. "Open it."

At his urging I opened the little gift bag and pulled out two huge blocks of post-it notes, a black pen and a soft knit white infinity scarf with a matching hat. He placed the scarf and hat on me before taking a picture of me on his phone.

"Why did you just take a picture of me?" I asked as I took off the hat.

"It lasts longer than staring," he replied easily. After eyeing him nervously I smiled.

"Thank you for these."

"It was no problem."

I opened a package of post-it notes and then the pen. With very little thought I wrote my first note.

My favourite colours are silver and white.

I handed him the note and watched the small smile grace his face. I passed him another note with my full name on it.

"Your whole name is the names of colours?"

"Yes. Ebony Violette Black. My mother is...special." That didn't sound like the right word though. Idiotic and drunk would be more appropriate.

"Once when I was thirteen I decided to annoy my mother so I took a shower and screamed about drowning. Another time we were in the mall and I loudly asked her how babies are made."

I chuckled and looked at him sideways. He winked at me and grabbed the notes from my hands before sticking them and my presents in the bag.

"Would you like to go get some breakfast?" he asked.

"At nine at night?"

"No better time. I'll make it." He grabbed my hands and hauled me to my feet.

"Tell me something else you did," I said as we walked down the street.

"Yesterday I followed my mom around with an easy button and pressed it after she did something."