Learning to Soar (White Dove Book 3)

by Maya William

  Miranda quickly pulls Vicente toward her by his arms.

  “I want to dance!” she exclaims excitedly, making Vicente laugh.

  He raises his eyebrows. “Three hours wasn’t enough?”

  “I was teaching, not dancing,” she replies while walking to the makeshift dance floor.

  He puts his hand on her hip, takes her other hand in his, and leads Miranda into a Latin dance that she performs expertly.

  Well, now I understand where Samuel got his moves.

  Rodrigo points a finger at Maria, then curls it, inviting her to dance with him. She laughs and shakes her head, daring him with a glare to step closer, but he doesn’t take no for an answer.

  “Nobody says no to a song by Chayanne,” he declares.

  “Amen to that,” Vicente quickly replies, making the Solis sisters laugh.

  Maria relents, extending her arm, which Rodrigo takes. They quickly join Miranda and Vicente on the dance floor.

  Meanwhile, David sits alone in a corner scowling, his eyes moving from the dance floor toward the wall, his laptop no longer on the table. I walk over to him; after all, the whole afternoon has been about the dance, not about spending time with him.

  “Would you like to dance with me?” My question brings the color up to my face.

  Yeah, it’s my first time asking a boy to dance with me. But this is David.

  His eyes widen at the unexpected question, but he doesn’t reply.

  “You heard Rodrigo; nobody says no to Chacan,” I add.

  He rolls his eyes, but his lips quirk up.

  “It’s Chayanne,” he corrects me.

  Darn it! I can’t even get the singer’s name right!

  “And he lies. If Chayanne wanted to break the law, the police would say no to him.”

  I chuckle and decide to go for a different approach.

  “Do you plan to reject my offer?” I pout, making puppy-dog eyes at him.

  He sighs.

  “I don’t know how to dance,” he confesses.

  After the way he criticized all of us, he probably knows a thing or two about dancing.

  “I don’t know how to dance this kind of dance”—I point at the couples dancing—“but we can always improvise.”

  His posture shifts slightly, which encourages me.

  My shoulders slump, and I sigh loudly. “Okay, then, I’ll dance by myself.”

  I step backward, moving my hips from side-to-side. I do it timidly at first, then decide to change tactics and let the music carry me as I fool around.

  His eyes grow big as saucers, and he shakes his head.

  Well, if he won’t join me, at least I hope he finds me amusing.

  “Come on, David! Let’s freestyle!” I jump up and down to the beat of the music while turning around in circles.

  I freeze when he stands in one swift movement.

  Shoot! I’ve annoyed him.

  My mouth then hits the floor when he moves his feet from side-to-side.

  “There you go!” I exclaim happily, quickly mimicking him. “Let’s play Follow the Leader,” I suggest, happy to see him dancing.

  I take the lead and move my hips in a figure eight, which he quickly follows in excellent rhythm.

  He might not know how to dance, but he’s Miranda’s son; the rhythm is in his blood.

  His moves seem shy at first, but the longer he keeps it up, the more certain they get.

  I point at him. “Your turn to lead.”

  He shakes his head.

  “Okay, then let’s imagine some invisible drums, and we’ll play them.” I move my hands up and down.

  “You’re a terrible drum player,” David states, following my proposal. “Your drumming pattern is completely offbeat.”

  I focus on his hand and notice the way he keeps up with the beat.

  Even while dancing, he’ll continue being a perfectionist and taking things literally.

  David will always be David.

  “I may be a terrible drum player, but I enjoy dancing with you!” I make another turn while moving my hips back and forth.

  A small laugh escapes him; I’m not the only one having fun.

  “David, your turn to lead!” I try once again.

  This time, he shyly moves his arms upward to one side and rolls them downward to the opposite side.

  “Excellent choice!” I follow him, keeping the sway in my hips and putting more energy into my moves.

  We continue dancing and playing, taking turns being the leader.

  When the music ends, David stops. He stares past me, then nervously shifts his feet. I turn to find Miranda watching us, her hand covering her mouth. She’s beaming, her eyes filled with motherly pride.

  When I turn back, David’s little smile has disappeared.

  “Would you do me the honor of giving me a second dance?” I ask, ignoring the rest of the crowd.

  He slowly backs away.

  Oh man! I lost him.

  “Well, if he doesn’t, I’ll gladly dance with you,” Samuel offers, stepping into the living room.

  David’s shoulders slump, and his lips dip.

  “Go and find another dance partner,” I tell him. “I’m already taken. Right, David?”

  Maria laughs, clearly enjoying our interaction.

  “Mom!” Samuel complains, as if involving her will change anything.

  This seems to encourage David’s determination, and he gives me a slight nod.

  Maria quickly moves to the iPod and puts the song on again.

  “What’s this song about, anyway?” I ask, following the dance steps David creates and ignoring the rest of the crowd.

  He listens to it for a moment. “It says something about enjoying all the good things life offers.”

  “Hmm, like music and dancing?”

  “The singer uses general examples.”

  “Well, then, I would add those two to the list, together with food and cookies.” My proposal earns me a small smile, especially at the mention of cookies. “And My Little Pony,” I add for good measure.

  “Obviously,” he states, utterly serious, and I laugh.

  As we continue dancing, I peek over my shoulder to see what freestyle steps the others are using and find everyone else copying ours.

  “Psst, David, we’re the cool kids,” I fake whisper and tilt my head toward the others. “They want to dance like us.”

  He sighs. “We’re not cool. I believe our body temperature increased because we’ve been exercising, as dancing is a form of exercise.”

  My mouth hits the floor, but then I throw my head back and laugh.

  A total David phrase.

  “You’re right, David!” I giggle. “But they’re still copying us.”

  “They have poor imagination, then,” he states, “and we created original steps.”

  I smile at him as the song ends.

  “It’s eight o’clock, time for dinner,” he declares.

  “Thank you for dancing with me,” I say with a smile.

  He nods, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor.

  “I’ll go and wash my hands,” he informs us, before leaving the dining room.

  After he disappears, Miranda steps forward and hugs me. “Thank you, Samantha. That was beautiful.”

  She pulls away and follows Maria out of the living room while Vicente and Rodrigo race to the table.

  An arm wrapping around my shoulders prevents me from following them. My heart leaps when I glance back to find Samuel’s face next to mine. He gently pulls me back until my back hits his firm chest.

  “Have I told you what a wonderful girl you are?” he whispers tenderly in my ear, creating butterflies out of thin air in my stomach. “Thank you for sticking with us.”

  I don’t know if by “us” he means the flock or the Solises, but does it matter? I’m happy with both groups. I should be the one thanking him, not the other way around. “Thank you for letting me into your world and putting up with me.”

  He sighs.
“You’ve got it wrong. You’re the one putting up with us,” he corrects. “I love seeing David having fun, Mom happy, and Maria laughing, even if it’s at my expense.”

  I chuckle.

  “You owe me a dance, beautiful,” he says, still holding me tight against his body. “It’s not fair David got to dance with you, and I didn’t.”

  His firm hold prevents me from turning to face him.

  “So, what we’ve been doing all along is, what… Wrestling?” I ask, making him laugh. “Sharing is caring; it was David’s turn. Don’t be jealous.”

  He groans, making me cackle.

  “Will you dance with me tomorrow?” he asks.

  “We’re already scheduled for it,” I remind him. “Right, Mr. Sparrow?”

  “It’s Captain Jack Sparrow,” he corrects me, laughing.

  I catch a glimpse of us in one of Miranda’s mirrors, which distracts me from rolling my eyes at him. We seem like a couple, and a darn cute one, I might add.

  Awww, Big Guy, I love this nice, romantic image.

  A kiss at the back of my head stops my train of thought.

  I remember what Lyra said about letting Samuel make the first move. Is this what she meant?

  He slowly brings his nose to my ear, moving it up then down, while an electric pulse travels through my body with every breath he takes.

  And like the Wicked Witch of the West, I’m melting.

  “Let’s go and have dinner, beautiful, before David complains about our tardiness,” he says suddenly, breaking the mood.

  His arm drops from around my shoulders, and his head lifts away from my ear.

  I sigh.

  Big Guy, please stop giving me ideas. The more I picture us together, the more I crave it. What will happen when he leaves in a few days? Where am I going to get my Samuel fix?

  Teasing

  Teasing

  Barb and our local priest working together might be Kellan’s worst nightmare. This morning, during breakfast, Kellan complained about the necessity to rent a dance floor when Zach asked Joy about the cost. Luckily, Barb sweet-talked him, telling him the cost of replacing the floor if the party damaged it would be much more expensive, and that Father Gomez got them an excellent price from one of his parishioners.

  “With you two organizing the party, we won’t make any profit,” he declared, throwing his hands up in the air.

  “Considering the turnout, they’ll probably raise enough to fund at least two or three pastorelas,” Lyra answered smugly, checking her numbers on the laptop with a smirk.

  Her words come back to me when we reach Calvary.

  In the halls, kids talk excitedly about tonight’s costume party, planning what they’ll wear, what time they’ll arrive. The fact everyone’s talking about it shows what a great job Becky and Barb did marketing it.

  By lunchtime, a big line forms at the party stand, ready to RSVP for tickets.

  Since getting into the party requires people to present their student ID, there’s also a big line at the library as kids wait to return their books and get their IDs back, or request replacement IDs. Oliver says Principal Stinson couldn’t be happier with how fast the library’s shelves are being restocked with books and lab equipment.

  “Father Gomez will be excited,” Samuel whispers in my ear, glancing at the big line in front of the table. Joy and Lyra happily work behind it, scanning IDs into the system.

  “Weren’t you supposed to skip class today?” I reproach him.

  He should be practicing for his performance, not spending lunchtime with us.

  “Mom said I should talk you out of going to your last class,” he says. “She made a last-minute change to the choreography and wants you to come over and practice with me.”

  My eyes narrow to slits. “Your mom said that?”

  I find it hard to believe that any mom would suggest her kid skip class.

  He chuckles. “If it were up to her, you’d already be a permanent resident of the Solis household.”

  My right eyebrow shoots up. “Seriously? She said that?”

  “No… Yes… No. Maybe.” His cheeks become alive with color. “Technically, she wanted me to steal you since breakfast.” He clears his throat and looks away from my face. “But I knew Abigail wouldn’t allow it.”

  “I don’t think she’d approve of me skipping class at all,” I reply.

  One of his hands flies to his heart, and he gives me puppy-dog eyes. “You don’t want to come and play with me?” He pouts.

  Uh, yeah? Duh!

  “Don’t twist my words,” I say, making him laugh at how quickly I respond.

  “She already agreed. The rest will leave school after lunch, anyway, to help with last-minute preparations.” He pulls his cell phone out, unlocks it, and offers it to me.

  I take it and check the screen to make sure he isn’t using an old chat to bribe me into going with him.

  On accident, I push the center button, and the main screen comes up. Behind all the icons, one of the pictures Lyra took of us during the photoshoot decorates the screen. I slide my finger across the screen to get rid of the icons and get a better look at the picture.

  Samuel quickly yanks the phone away.

  Shoot!

  “What are you doing?” He laughs, raising his arm to keep the phone out of my reach.

  “Just wanted to check something.” In a desperate attempt, I jump up, trying to grab it.

  He quickly moves farther away from me, turns it off, and returns it to his pocket. “You shouldn’t be snooping through people’s phones.”

  I gasp. “You willingly handed it over to me.”

  “Smartass!” he says with a chuckle. “Time for us to leave. Monsieur Pietro loved our choreography yesterday and gave us the day off.” His eyes gleam devilishly. “Somebody told him about our performance tonight, so he’s intrigued.”

  Bet you were the one to spill the beans.

  “What about Spanish?”

  “We can easily bribe Miss Esperanza.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

  I shake my head. What is he up to this time?

  After Samuel talks to Miss Esperanza, I drive us to the recreation center, which turns out to be a big convention center with a stage at one end of the room.

  It is, as Father Gomez promised, large enough to accommodate a big party and several tables for the guests.

  Miranda, Vicente, and Rodrigo are already waiting, and Miranda puts us to work immediately. Without Maria here today, she helps us to perfect the choreography.

  We rehearse for several hours, stopping only to eat a quick lunch.

  By the time we need to get ready, my arms shake, and my feet hurt. I’m not used to wearing heels, and even though they’re not high, after a few hours, they’ve taken their toll.

  When rehearsal ends, Miranda allows me to sit and remove the torture devices.

  My break only lasts a few minutes, though, because Barb and Miranda immediately pull me into the girl’s dressing room and get to work preparing my hair for the party.

  At least they’re allowing me to wear flats. I sigh in relief.

  Miranda and Barb have a long argument about the dress I’ll wear, since it isn’t the one they originally agreed on. Miranda animatedly explains how the previous costume wouldn’t work during dancing for several reasons.

  First, the neckline of the original dress presents a problem. No matter how much double-sided tape we use, one or both of my girls risks being exposed from all the fast movements the dance requires.

  Second, we need an ankle-length skirt, because the way it flares out will add to the drama of the dance and emphasize each movement I make.

  And, to quote Miranda on the last point, “No matter how much of an outlaw her son may be, a mother can hope he’ll marry a lady of refinement like Miss Elizabeth Swann, rather than a pirate wench.”

  The last point makes Barb’s bad mood vanish, and she laughs openly, agreeing to the new wardrobe choice.

  The white skirt
has a slit to my upper-mid thigh, allowing me to move freely while still reaching my ankles. Miranda advised me yesterday to wear a pair of white workout shorts during the performance, since my skirt could expose a little more than expected on some of the turns, and flashing the audience wouldn’t be appropriate.

  Been there, done that, at least with my bra; but I expect it to be one show only.

  The top part of the dress is a white corset, enhancing my small waist and the upper part of my body. The cut is high enough to keep me modest, and the corset is loose enough to allow me to breathe as I dance

  “Here comes the bride,” Joy singsongs when she passes us.

  She must mean, “Here comes the birthday girl.”

  Miranda’s shoulders shake, and a smile creeps across her face as she works on my hair, but she doesn’t comment.

  Or, maybe she was joking about Barb and Kellan? After all, they’re constantly staring at each other with goo-goo eyes.

  After Miranda finishes putting my hair into a loose half-updo and expertly curls the rest of it, Barb does my makeup, keeping it classic and timeless.

  Miranda leaves to take care of David, who will most likely not be able to relax in a loud, crowded party. Before she leaves, she makes me promise to tell her every single detail about the dance and gives me a quick peck on the cheek “for luck.”

  With a loud sigh, I narrow my eyes on the heels, knowing they’ll need to return to my feet once Barb finishes with my makeup.

  I miss my ballet slippers.

  With great pain in my heart—and my feet—I put them on and stuff my flats in my gym bag, together with the rest of my belongings.

  One more dance before being allowed to go back to my comfort zone.

  “Is everybody ready?” Lyra comes into view wearing a long-sleeved white dress with a big slit up her leg, like mine, that reaches her thigh.

  However, she wears white thigh-high boots, hiding most of the exposed area. She also wears a silver belt, and her hair is styled in two buns, one on each side of her head, that cover her ears.

  Archie steps into the girls’ dressing room. “Aww, the other guys and I were hoping for the other Princess Leia outfit.”