The Princess Pages: A Girl Like Cinderella

Song Thirty

 AN ANGEL IN A WHITE MASK

Trent Morgan stared down at the stemless rose on his palm, feeling regret, embarrassment, and bewilderment churn in his stomach.

As he lifted his green eyes in front of him, he immediately came to his senses and dropped the rose into the fountain before hurrying towards the blonde girl running inside the hotel.

It was nearly midnight, but the place was still alive with upbeat music and tipsy teenagers in fancy suits and sleeveless gowns.

"Wait!" Trent tried to reach for her gloved arm but the masked girl was frozen in her tracks.

"Something's wrong..." the blonde in the white gown whispered to herself, a faint crease forming between her neat eyebrows.

"W-O-O-O-O!! HOW Y'ALL DOING TONIGHT, CALIFORNIA!!!!" Brad Fields exclaimed happily, standing on the steady piano set, a beer in his hand.

A fusion of loud howls and cheers erupted throughout the massive grand ballroom.

"LET'S ALL PARTY LIKE IT'S THE LAST NIGHT OF OUR LIVES!!!" 

The whole place vibrated under the deafening volume of Fall Out Boy's Centuries.

Some legends are told
Some turn to dust or to gold
But you will remember me
Remember me, for centuries

Fists were pumping eagerly in the cold air. Heads were banging to the tune. Everyone was completely carefree and mouthing the lyrics passionately.

Cara put her gloved hands over her ears, a twinge of fear gnawing inside her.

"Don't you feel that?" The masked blonde shouted over the noise.

The model looked at her,perplexed. "Feel what?" he yelled back.

She was starting to panic for real, paying attention to the faint trembling floor beneath her white flat shoes.

An earthquake was happening.

Cara attempted to warn everyone, but they were too busy dancing or couldn't hear her properly.

"Tr--Morgan! I need to tell you something," she hissed, pulling him by the arm in an isolated corner, by a tall plant beside a marble pillar.

Seeing the intense worry in her green eyes, the model straightened attentively.

"The ground is shaking," she told him in subdued, soothing tones. "But no one can tell the difference from the music. We have to inform everybody. NOW."

In less than five seconds, Trent Morgan was standing by the grand piano, angrily pulling down his inebriated friend from the instrument.

"Brad, kill the music," he commanded sternly, holding the black-haired teen by his shoulders.

His brown eyes were glassy, and he didn't seem to hear a word Trent said. "Huh?"

"Shit!" Trent swore, whipping his head around for help or an emergency lever.

The brown-haired singer can definitely sense the quivering below his shoes.

"ALL OF YOU, STOP DANCING!!" Trent shouted at the top of his lungs.

"What did he say? Stop what?" a drunken brunette slurred.

"I don't know," another far-from-sober girl giggled. "But he's so hot."

Anxiety engulfed Cara's whole body, her hands and knees shivering with fright. The whole floor was shaking and still not one other person noticed.

Her ears picked up a twinkling, creaking sound, and to her horror, she lifted her chin to see that the large vintage chandelier was swaying back and forth, its rickety chain quickly detaching from the ceiling.