07-11-2022, 06:44 PM
“I could have gone if I had wanted to.” There was a trace of sadness in Stephanie’s voice. If her parents were alive, they would have taken her to the ball at the hotel, unless it was for adults only. She wasn’t sure if her aunt and uncle could afford it. They didn’t live nearly as well as she had in London. They called their house large, but it was tiny compared to the mansion she had grown up in … and the other one she had been thrown out of. Sometimes she wanted her old life back and sometimes she just wished she was back in the theatre.
"I never said I was better than you. Shorty. I’m just nicer. I don’t insult people unless they insult me first.” Again she rolled her eyes. “I have no idea what life is like under a rock, but here women don’t like men who are shorter than them.”
Stephanie continued to pinch her nose. “You don’t smell like toughness. You smell like a privy. Maybe you live under an outhouse instead of a rock.” In truth, he didn’t smell all that bad, certainly no worse than she had when she lived on the London streets.
She gazed at the dancers, observing them for a moment before pointing toward one couple. “See that guy down there … the one in the blue shirt and brown pants? He has lots of muscles. I bet he could win a bar brawl. And you can see that he knows how to dance.” The man in question was more clumsy than graceful, but he was dancing.
Was this boy right? Would nobody dance with her if she was down there? He had uncovered one of her insecurities and that made Stephanie angry. She placed her hands on her hips again, her blue eyes spitting fire. “I wouldn’t dance with you if you were the last boy on earth! Some of your dirt might rub off on me!”
She really really wanted to give him a black eye. Stephanie half-expected him to run away calling for his mother, but instead, he rolled up his sleeves and dared her to punch him. Using a trick she had learned at the theatre, she turned around and lowered her eyes as if he had called her bluff. Without any warning, she clenched her fists, whirled back around, and stepped forward. She swung one fist right toward his eye ...
"I never said I was better than you. Shorty. I’m just nicer. I don’t insult people unless they insult me first.” Again she rolled her eyes. “I have no idea what life is like under a rock, but here women don’t like men who are shorter than them.”
Stephanie continued to pinch her nose. “You don’t smell like toughness. You smell like a privy. Maybe you live under an outhouse instead of a rock.” In truth, he didn’t smell all that bad, certainly no worse than she had when she lived on the London streets.
She gazed at the dancers, observing them for a moment before pointing toward one couple. “See that guy down there … the one in the blue shirt and brown pants? He has lots of muscles. I bet he could win a bar brawl. And you can see that he knows how to dance.” The man in question was more clumsy than graceful, but he was dancing.
Was this boy right? Would nobody dance with her if she was down there? He had uncovered one of her insecurities and that made Stephanie angry. She placed her hands on her hips again, her blue eyes spitting fire. “I wouldn’t dance with you if you were the last boy on earth! Some of your dirt might rub off on me!”
She really really wanted to give him a black eye. Stephanie half-expected him to run away calling for his mother, but instead, he rolled up his sleeves and dared her to punch him. Using a trick she had learned at the theatre, she turned around and lowered her eyes as if he had called her bluff. Without any warning, she clenched her fists, whirled back around, and stepped forward. She swung one fist right toward his eye ...
