Damsel In Distress

“Dad, I’m not lying to you! I was at the dance studio!”

Dad squeezed my tiny arm even tighter. Bruises were already forming; I could tell. It was hard to keep from crying out in pain, but I knew if I did, he would hurt me even worse.

“Your classes end at seven, not eleven.” His breath smelled of hard liquor; it made me dizzy.

“Our recital’s in two weeks, and I’m in all of the numbers besides two of them,” I explained, my voice small and desperate. “Miss Elaine told me I could stay later, so she could help me out. I even texted you to tell you I’d be coming home late.”

He stared into my eyes, his own filled with hatred. He let go of my arm, then stormed over to his coat. As I placed a hand over the black and blue bruise on my arm, he dug through his pockets. He pulled out his cell phone and started pressing buttons, searching through it. He stopped for a few moments to read something, then he looked over at me.

“Go to your room.”

I quickly grabbed my dance bag, then hurried up the stairs. The more distance I put between my father and I, the better. I closed my door behind me, then the tears that I had been struggling to hold in finally fell. They were silent, but my mind wasn’t.

Why does he do this? Why does my own father, the man who helped create my life, hit me? I always wondered this afterwards, but I never dared to ask him. Maybe it was because my mother cheated on him and left. Maybe he hit me since I looked just like her.

The thought of my mother brought even more tears to my eyes. I closed them, trying to stop the flow. God, I missed her so much. Why did I have to live with my dad, instead of her? Of course I knew the answer already. When they had fought for custody over me, Dad had won simply because he was friends with the judge.

I opened my eyes, positive that the tears would now stop. I was too angry to cry now. All I wanted to do was hit someone. The thought left my mind as quickly as it had come. I looked down at my arm, seeing the result of physical violence.

I sighed. I needed to start treating the bruise while it was still fresh. I turned around and peeked out into the hallway. It was empty, and lights from downstairs were still visible. Quickly, I went into the bathroom across the hall and ran some cold water. I splashed some on my face first, trying to rid my eyes of the redness. The last thing I needed was to see my dad crying. When my eyes began to return to their natural color, I grabbed a rag out of the closet and soaked it. I placed the rag on my bruise, wincing at the pain. I stayed there for about five minutes, rag on my arm, until I heard the television turn off downstairs. I quickly squeezed the water out of the rag and threw it into the dirty hamper. Cracking the bathroom door open, I looked towards the stairs. The lights were still on. Silently, I ran back into my room and closed the door behind me.

I contemplated turning on my lamp, but I knew he would look for the light under the door when he came upstairs. It’d be best if he thought I was asleep; he wouldn’t find a reason to yell at me if I was already unconscious. I maneuvered through my room silently. My room was always clean and tidy, everything in its place. It wasn’t hard for me to locate my dresser. I quickly took off my leotard and tights. My shoes were downstairs, where I had taken them off right before Dad grabbed me. I opened my dresser and pulled out a sports bra and shorts. I changed into them and got into bed. My arm needed to be elevated, so I took one of my pillows and placed it under my forearm. I laid down and closed my eyes. My body was exhausted from the extra hours of dancing, and my mind was exhausted from dealing with my father. Sleep welcomed me with open arms.

***

“Did you hear the latest gossip?”

“You know I haven’t heard it,” I replied, opening my locker. Caitlin leaned beside the one next to mine. “I don’t care too much for teenage drama.”

“Oh, shut up. You know you’re just as curious as the rest of us.” Unlike me, Caitlin was very social and outgoing. She was friends with almost every popular person in our entire school, but I would always be her bestfriend.

I rolled my eyes. “Honestly, I could care less.”

“There’s a new boy!” she said, ignoring my comment. “And apparently he’s one of those really cute, bad-boy types.”

“You should date him.”

Not only was Caitlin popular, but she looked like a supermodel, too. She had average-length, silky brown hair and light brown eyes. She had tan skin and one of those amazing figures that boys obsess over. Her smile was gorgeous, bright and white. Also, she had a beauty mark right above her mouth that she hated but everyone else envied.

She opened her mouth to reply, but she quickly closed it, something she never did. A faint blush appeared on her cheeks as she looked over my shoulder. I turned to see what had affected her so much. Standing right beside us was an insanely handsome boy. He had sharp facial features: a square jaw, prominent cheekbones, a thin nose. His skin was naturally tan; it was clear he was from a sunny place. A mop of black curls sat upon his head, and his dark green eyes were fixed on me. I quickly looked back into my locker when I felt heat rise to my cheeks.

“Excuse me.” His voice was deep, rough. “That’s my locker.”

“Oh!” Caitlin said, quickly moving to the other side of me. “I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t respond, just walked around to his locker. His scent wafted to my nose, a surprisingly sweet smell of Old Spice and cigarettes. He took off the leather jacket he was wearing, and as he placed it in his locker, his elbow accidentally brushed my shoulder.

“Sorry,” he apologized, looking over at me.

I grabbed my biology book and closed my locker. He was tall, at least six foot, easily towering over my small 5’5” body. I had to look up at him. “It’s okay.”

I turned around and started walking to class. Caitlin walked with me, occasionally looking back at the boy.

“Ohmygod,” she whispered. “he was just looking at you!”

“How do you know he wasn’t looking at you?” I asked, desperately trying to draw the attention away from myself. It made me feel uncomfortable.

“Because he wasn’t!” she replied as we walked into chemistry. We were a little early, so there were only a few other people in the room. I sat down at my lab table. Caitlin placed her books on her table in front of me, but she sat down in the seat beside me. “It’s not impossible for a guy to be looking at you, Sophia! I mean, look at you! You’re gorgeous.”

I thought of my long, brown hair and my big, brown eyes. My olive skin tone and thick, long eyelashes often got me mistaken for someone of Spanish descent. Caitlin told me that boys often talk about my full, pouty lips and nice smile. I thought I was average-looking, but everyone else seemed to think much more highly of me.

“You know I’m not interested in dating,” I said. “The dance recital’s in two weeks. Did you forget about that?”

Caitlin and I had been dancing at the same studio together since we were five years old. She was a good dancer, but I was still known as the best. She danced as a hobby, and I danced because it was my life.

“No, I haven’t. But you’ve clearly forgotten about this wonderful thing called life.”

“I have not!” I replied, offended. “I’ve just been busy!”

“Soph,” she started patiently. “When was the last time we went on a shopping trip together? Or went to the movies? Or even had a sleepover? I mean, I feel like I only see you here and at the studio.”

I thought about the questions she asked. It was true; I hadn’t hung out with her in a while. Right after school, I drove straight to the studio. I’d warm-up a little by myself until class officially started, then I’d attend until seven. Afterwards, I’d go home, do my homework, eat dinner, and go to bed. Now, with the recital quickly approaching, my schedule was even crazier.

“I promise, we’ll hang out soon,” I assured, smiling.

“Pinky promise?” She held up her pinky.

I laughed as I rolled my eyes. But I wrapped my pinky around hers and squeezed it gently. We let go, and Caitlin started talking about some boy in her English class who had asked her out while I opened up my binder and started setting up a piece of paper to take notes.

Suddenly, she stopped mid-sentence. I looked up from my paper. “What?”

She was looking straight ahead, and I followed her gaze. The new boy was talking to Mr. Devlin, our chemistry teacher. Mr. Devlin shook his hand, then went over to a cabinet. Caitlin got up without saying a word and moved to her table, where her partner, a shy girl who played the clarinet, was already seated. She started talking to her, ignoring me when I whispered her name.

I looked back up to the front. The new boy had a book in his hand and was walking down our aisle. I turned my attention back to my paper, hoping and praying that he wouldn’t sit beside me. When I heard the book scrape across the table, I knew I would be disappointed when I looked up.

“Hey.” It was that same, deep voice.

“Hi.” I didn’t look up. I just focused on writing the date and my name.

The stool beside me scraped against the floor as he pulled it out from under the table. That familiar smell of Old Spice invaded my nose, once again. He smelled so good; it was hard to think of anything besides him.

“Looks like I’ll be your temporary lab partner,” he said. This time, I looked over at him. He was looking at me. “But I don’t get biology at all so I’ll be pretty useless.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

Mr. Devlin started class, and I turned my attention back to the front. For a few more seconds, I could feel the boy’s eyes on me but then I saw his head turn to the front out the corner of my eye.

Mr. Devlin explained how today would be an easy day, just work right out of the book. We were allowed to work with our lab partners, but we had to talk quietly. A few groups started talking immediately, but the boy and I remained silent. I opened my book to the page that was written on the board. As soon as I flipped to it, my cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I looked up to make sure Devlin wasn’t looking, then pulled it out. It was a text message from Caitlin, telling me to ask the new boy what his name was and how he was liking our school so far. I pocketed my phone, then looked up at her. She was already looking at me and mouthed the words “Do it.”

“So, what’s your name?” I asked. Part of me just wanted to get Caitlin off my back, but most of me was genuinely curious.

“Tyler,” he answered, looking back up at me. “You?”

“Sophia.”

“Cool.” He turned back to his book. He had pulled out a piece of paper while I read the text message, his name and date already at the top. Tyler Evans was the gorgeous boy’s name.

I looked down at my book, too, started reading the questions as I asked the next one I had.

“You like it here so far?”

“It’s alright,” he replied as he wrote something down. “I’ve never been to such a small school, though.”

I thought of the six hundred kids walking around these halls. It was small for a Florida school but then again, this was a small city. “Where are you from?”

“Tallahassee.”

I didn’t ask why he moved from our state’s capital to the small town of Keystone Heights. I figured I’d ask the two questions Caitlin had suggested, so I was done and could start working on the questions. I breezed threw them, answering all fifteen of them thoroughly but quickly. As I closed my book and set my pencil down, Tyler asked, “You’re done already?”

I nodded.

“So you’re the smart, bookworm type, huh?” he asked, going back to his questions.

“No,” I said, shaking my head even though he wasn’t looking. I thought hard, trying to find the words to describe. I was shy, that was for sure, but what else was I? I was average, besides my shyness and my dancing. “I’m…shy.”

“Oh, really?” he asked sarcastically. “Never would’ve guessed that.”

Since I knew he was just joking around, I couldn’t help but giggle. He looked up at me and grinned slightly. My shyness returning, I reached up and pushed a few loose strands of my hair behind my ear. When I placed my hands back down on the table in front of me, I noticed that the sleeves of my black cardigan were starting to rise up, almost exposing my bruise. I causally pulled them down, aware of Tyler’s stare.

“What type are you?” I asked, trying to turn the attention away from myself.

He took a moment before answering, almost as if he were thinking of ways to describe him just as I had. “I’m the type of guy your father would forbid you from seeing.”

The mention of fathers made me curious. “Why do you say that?”

“I drive a motorcycle, I smoke cigarettes, I stay to myself,” he listed nonchalantly. "Apparently, I’ve got the ‘dangerous, bad boy vibe’.”

“If you keep to yourself, why are you talking to me?”

He looked up from his paper and stared at me thoughtfully. “I don’t know.” I tried hard not to blush under his intense stare. “Why are you talking to me if you’re so shy?”

I thought about this for a moment. Why was I talking to this boy? Was I looking for his friendship? Or maybe even something more? No, of course not. I had to focus on dancing, the only thing in the world that brought me happiness. And I definitely couldn’t get distracted with the recital coming so soon. So why was I even bothering talking to this boy?

“Honestly, I don’t know either.”

“At least you’re honest.” He shrugged, then went back to working.

During the thirty minutes left of class, I helped Tyler understand and answer the questions. We made small talk as we worked but never started a real conversation. By the time class ended, Tyler had all of his questions answered and seemed to understand chemistry a little more.

Mr. Devlin ended class and asked that we all made a line to his desk to hand in our papers. I slung my bag over my shoulders and picked up my books and my paper. Tyler mirrored my actions but pushed in his chair and leaned against the table behind us, gesturing toward the open aisle.

“Ladies first or is chivalry dead?”

I allowed myself to giggle. “Ladies first, always.”

He chuckled as I walked by him and joined the line. Caitlin was right in front of me, and when Tyler wasn’t looking, she turned around and gave me a thumbs-up. I shook my head at my crazy friend.

“Did you help out our new class member, Sophia?” Mr. Devlin asked when Tyler and I handed in our papers.

“Of course, Mr. Devlin,” I responded.

“She helped me a lot,” Tyler added.

“Glad to hear.” He smiled at us. “See you tomorrow.”

Caitlin was waiting for me outside the door, and as soon as I stepped into the hallway, she looped her arm through mine.

“You don’t mind if I take my bestfriend back, do you?” she asked Tyler.

“She’s all yours,” he said to her. Then he fixed his gaze on me. “See you tomorrow, Sophia.”

“Bye.”

Luckily, Tyler walked in the other direction so he couldn’t hear the small yelp Caitlin let out.

“Ohmygod, Soph!” she exclaimed, causing a few people to glance in our direction. She seemed to notice, too, because she lowered her voice. “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen you talk to a boy without looking all shy and nervous!”

“That’s not true. I talk to Jamie normally.”

Jamie was one of the few boys who danced at our studio. He was always my partner for duets.

“A boy who doesn’t dance,” she replied.

“He’s different,” I answered, shrugging as we walked into English.

We sat down at our desks, which happened to be right next to each other. Class was just now starting, so Caitlin couldn’t bother me anymore about Tyler. However, a few seconds later, a tiny piece of paper landed on my desk. I unfolded it and shook my head. It read: Sophia + Tyler = couple? No way. No how.

***

“Sophia, I want you to take five,” Miss Elaine, my dance instructor for the past five years, instructed.

“What? Why?” I asked, stopping in the middle of a twirl. Miss Elaine turned off the music, so I couldn’t continue. I walked over to where she was standing, right beside the door.

“Sweetie, you’re working way too hard,” she said, placing her hands on my shoulders, looking at me straight-on. “You’re doing everything perfectly! Your posture is amazing, your moves are graceful, you follow the music. Why do you think you need the extra practice?”

“Because of the scouts.”

Two weeks ago, Miss Elaine had held me back after class had ended to tell me that some talent scouts from Julliard were coming to our recital to see me perform. Apparently, they had heard about all my dance achievements from somewhere, and they were interested in seeing me for themselves. If they liked what they saw, I would have an early admission to attend college there, even though I was still a junior. But until I graduated high school, they would let me attend their summer camps and for a discounted price. Going to Julliard had been my biggest dream ever since I started dancing, and I didn’t want to waste an amazing opportunity.

“Sophia, don’t even worry about the scouts. They already think you’re amazing! They just want to see what they already know, and they want to meet you and see what kind of person you are,” she explained.

“What if they don’t like the person they meet?” I asked, looking down, embarrassed.

“Sophia, look at me,” Miss Elaine instructed. I lifted my head and looked into her honest eyes.

“Why wouldn’t they like you? Sweetie, you are one of the sweetest, smartest, most talented people I have ever met. They would be absolutely crazy not to love you. But they will, I promise. So don’t worry about anything! As a matter of fact, I want you to go home, take a bubble bath, watch some television, kiss a boy, do anything that isn’t dance-related. You got that?”

“Got it,” I said, laughing and smiling. She always knew how to make me feel better. She was like the mother I couldn’t have. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around her in a hug. She squeezed me back without hesitation. I tried to imagine my mother as being as gentle and loving as Miss Elaine. She probably was, but I doubted I would ever find out.