I Feel Like Dancing

I was walking along the street listening to Michael Buble’s Feeling Good. I loved the older songs that just had that…burlesque vibe to them. It was slow and then it fast and riveting. The rhythm of it made me think of my own life. Slow and then fast then slow again. I glided down the street. I loved the breeze on my skin with each step I took. I went over to the coffee shop every night to have a nice latte and listen to the poetry. My iPod was always in my pocket at all time. Sometimes playing of course, Michael Buble and then other time my favorite modern band, All Time Low. I loved their music. It made me feel happy and jumpy and ready to dance. Then again, I loved Remembering Sunday. Regardless on all of All Time Low’s happy songs, Remembering Sunday brought things into reality. Made people remember anything could happen at any given time. That was a sad thing about the world but I didn’t like to let things get me down. All Time Low was in my town tonight for a concert and apparently they’d be here for a few days. It made me get jumpy inside but I kept such emotions reserved from the Public Eye. I always believed ladies should act with the utmost grace, class, and elegance. Although I had absolutely nothing against those who didn’t. In fact one of my best friends was a girl who liked to play out in public and say what was on her mind at that place and time. The thought of her made me smile. She had a much different upbringing than I had. She’d been in a happy home. Full of children and loving parents. The scent of cherry pie was always in her mother and father’s small wooden cabin. It truly felt homey. Where as I was, and still am, being raised in a rather dull, lifeless home. Nothing ever went on at my home. Yes, it was big and classy, as were the people in it but nothing ever went on inside the house. My mother was a teacher, well, of sorts anyway. Mothers in desperate need to teach their daughters etiquette would call my mother. She would hold class lessons with all of them at the same time and over a period of time they became the prime example of class. This was how my mother raised my sisters and I. It was horrible. Always being told to speak only when spoken too. Being pushed away for someone else’s daughter. Being punished for not saying please and thank you. So actually earlier when I said I believed every female should have grace, elegance, and class. I lied. I think every female-no every person should have the freedom to live as they please. To be even a slob if they please. I guess that’s why I loved being around my best friend, Sherria, so much. She always had fun as I said earlier. Everything serious or even devastating she could turn into something…not as bad. She could make a person happy in five words and it amazed me. In a way I guess you could say I looked up to her. I was only 17 not old enough to move out yet, not brave enough to move out yet. My older sister (and oldest of us all) Violet, was already 23. Whenever I’d talked to her she’d said that she too had been mistreated as a child. That she too had been taught the same way as I had. My brothers on the other hand had and are being raised as business men. My poor younger sisters though were undergoing the same lessons I’d been subject to and whenever they would come to me crying all I could do was hold them and tell them that it’d be okay. That they’d get older and be able to do as they please but the bad thing was it’d never get better. Our house was brainwashing. It may sound dumb to some people but it was truly horrible. Being hit with rulers every time we didn’t use our manners or sit correctly in our skirts and dresses. Even sometimes if one of us forgot to do something. Sometimes my youngest sisters were spanked. My brothers were grounded. I though would get hit with the ruler across the knuckles or knees. Sometimes I would get a smack to my cheek or even locked in my room and had dinner taken away from me. This would happen to all of my sisters who were over 14 also. It was sad but I’d learned to deal with it a long time ago. This little walk and going outside in our yard and backyard was the most freedom they’d give us. Well, some of us. Olivia and Eleanor had to stay at the house and just play outside occasionally because they were both only 10 at the moment. They were still me most sensible 10 year olds I’d ever met. The rest of my sister and brothers could go for very small walks but ever since the time I was 13 I’d refused to take such short walks. I demanded that I go on longer walks and got many smacks to the face but eventually my parents agreed since they knew I’d never give up on that. My curfew was longest being that I was the oldest in the house. Before I knew it I’d arrived at the coffee shop. Before I went in, I pulled my iPod from my pocket and turned the music off. I then stuffed it back into my pocket. This was the only time in a day where I wasn’t watched by a maid or butler or someone in my house. I wouldn’t get tattled on if I did something wrong. And it was almost the only time of the whole day I had to listen to the only electronic I had. Only some of my siblings had other electronics but not many. Either way most of the music I had was searched through to make sure I didn’t have anything ’brainwashing’ to listen to. I usually only had jazz and other things. But when they’d found my All Time Low and You Me At Six songs, they weren’t happy. But each time they checked and seen the same songs they eventually gave up and let me keep them. Most of the other bands though I knew they would never back down from not letting me listen to. I loved the rock and heavy metal but my parents didn’t approve of it. I looked at the time on my wrist watch as I walked in the coffee shop. It was already 10:00. I only had an hour left until I had to go home. I had two hours to be out and they started at 9:00 PM and of course ended at 11:00. Still though I had to be home by 11:30. I’d always thought that was a reasonable curfew but lately I’d been finding myself wanting a longer time span to do things. There were quite a few people tonight. I went up to the register and ordered my usual Mocha Latte and went to sit down at the small booth in front of the door. I liked to watch the people that would come in and the ones that would go out. I loved to examine them and wonder what kind of lifestyle they lived. I was listening to the calm poetry and the occasional courageous person come up and sing. I admired those people. I could never to that myself. I felt my pocket vibrate and I pulled out my iPod. I had a texting app that enabled me to receive messaged from anyone with a mobile phone. I couldn’t call people and they couldn’t call me but everyone had my phone number that I knew or that knew me. My parents, siblings and most importantly Sherria. She texted me all the gossip going around school that I didn’t know about. I looked at the text message and it read:
Sherria:
Are you going to the concert tonight?

I sighed. She knew my parents would never let me go to any concert. Unless it was opera.

Me:
No. You know I can’t go Sherria.

Sherria:
SNEAK OUT! Do something you choose to do yourself for once!

Me:
I don’t want to get beat Sherria.

Sherria:
And I don’t wanna go to the concert alone! Come one I’ll pick you up! It’s only gonna be a one time thing!

Me:
No Sherria. End of conversation.

The next time I felt my pocket vibrate I didn’t pick it up. “So you’re not going to our concert?” A voice asked me. “Or is it someone else’s concert?” I looked up and seen the one and only Alex Gaskarth.

I had no idea what do but I kept my calm even as he sat down across from me. “Oh, Mr. Gaskarth.” I said. I sounded surprised and happy. I smiled as I’d been taught too when someone important graces me with their presence.
“Mr.?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. I laughed.
“Forgive me.” I said. He laughed.
“No problem. Just call me Alex. So why can’t you go to concert…?” He asked signaling for my name.
“Oh, Amelia.” I said and Alex held his hand over the table. I took it and shook lightly.
“So concert?” He asked again.
“I just have very strict parents.” I said. “I don’t want to get in trouble.” I said.
“You look high class. Don’t look like you’d be the type of chick to listen to our music.” He said.
“Oh, I am a very big fan.” I said. “I have all of your songs on my iPod.” I said. He smiled.
“Well, thank you. I appreciate it.” He said. “Now, why don’t you do like your friend said and just sneak out? I used to sneak out all the time. I don’t think you should give a crap what your parents say!” He said raising his voice a little. I laughed and shrugged.
“I’ll have…punishments.” I said. Alex sighed.
“Okay, how bout this?” He made a pouty face and laced his hands together. “Pweaseeeeeee?” I laughed so hard I almost snorted. I put my hand back in my lap. “What if I said you didn’t have to pay and I’d be the happiest man on the face of the Earth if you went with me and my band personally?” He asked. I thought about it. I sighed. What was the worst trouble I could get into?
“Fine.” I said. Alex jumped up in happiness almost knocking my Latte over. I grabbed it before it spilled though. Someone came in and shouted, “Alex Gaskarth escort your butt to the door please!” Everyone in the shop turned to see who it was. Jack Barakat. I put my head down and laughed. I took out my iPod and text Sherria.
Me:
Meet me backstage.