The Princess Pages: A Girl Like Cinderella

Song Forty Four

SHE WORE THE MOON. HE WORE THE STARS.

Everyone had their comfort in times of stress:

Carter had cosplay conventions, Anime marathons, graphic cartooning, creating animations, and developing a mild interest in Architecture.

Jacqueline had blog tours, online story-writing, binge-watching on Veronica Mars, Sherlock Holmes, the occasional Nancy Drew, and running track after school to keep fit.

Cara had music.

More precisely, dancing. So much dancing that it induced a warm, velvety coma that dulled her senses and made her unable to think beyond the disrepair of her bruised and battered heart.

There were so many solaces that mollified Cara. Poetry. Books. Composing music. Playing the guitar or piano. Drowning her sorrows in sweets and chocolates.

But dancing was her true passion. It had always been since she was a child. Music was there for her when her life was perfect and whole, and it was still there even after her parents died and life at school had turned completely hellish.

Her father lived through her as she played and composed; her mother's memory stayed alive whenever she sang and danced.

Her brother, Vance, was her strength, just as she was his own. Even as their lives slowly crumbled like a house of sand, they endured the pain and loneliness together.

Currently, Cara took a graceful stance in front of the long studio mirror, examining her reflection a few minutes before the song took over the large room, and her mind, body, and soul.

Flashbacks from the night of the ball whizzed through her mind, but she quickly brushed them aside.

She stared at the girl in the glass: Wavy blonde hair, cascading down her back. Emerald eyes had replaced her true azure orbs. She only applied powder to hide her freckles, and slicked on some light red tint across her plump lips. Aside from those changes, only her body remained the same.

Slim, lithe, and due to her fast metabolism, she maintained the full curves that any girl would kill to have. Cara wore a plain white shirt (a different one) and a black skater skirt which hugged her thin waist comfortably.

Her feet were bare. And she loved dancing sans shoes. Her nude soles felt cold as she stepped on the chilly hardwood floor.

The amps installed in discreet parts of the ceiling began to fill the ample studio with a thrilling, lively rhythm. Cara bobbed her head to the beat, and she poised herself.

"O-ye Nina" by X.R.I.Z. smoothly engulfed the four walls, and Cara's body, with a vigorous tsunami. Like a spiral of ocean water caressing her, lifting her off the ground, and all at once, she lost herself in the marvelous sound. The Spanish version of 'Hey Girl.' It was a good choice.

As she owned the whole room, spinning, gliding, twirling, her steps swift and perfect, Cara felt cold beads of sweat slide down her temples, her face, but she kept on dancing, her choreography pure and original, her heart pounding wildly in her chest as her blonde waves fanned out, in time with the flaring of her black skirt that flaunted her long, supple legs.

She was more flexible than she gave herself credit for.

The song played on, and as a climactic verse drew near, Cara heard a feeble shuffle from the doorway.

She didn't stop dancing even when she recognized the brown hair,green eyes and tall stature.He had on a white fedora, green button down over a white shirt and black pants.

"I didn't think I'd---" the guy began, approaching her.

"CATCH ME!" Cara cried out, twirling gracefully before she landed in Trent's arms, who caught her by the waist and lifted her up effortlessly, spinning her once, then put her down.