by Seven Steps
“I love you, Red.”
My eyes well with tears, and I kiss the top of his head. “I love you too, Ship.”
59
The winter formal’s in full swing.
Most of the junior and senior class, and some freshman too, have come out to dance, drink punch, and to listen to The Girl With The Red Sneakers play their favorite songs.
As part of my parole, technically I wasn’t allowed to be here, but Daddy has somehow arranged matters so I can attend under the watchful eye of two police officers who, I’m sure, are going to get great deals on prime real estate properties in the very near future.
It’s one of the greatest gifts Daddy has ever given me.
Sophia dances next to me with a boy from the football team. He’s tall and handsome, but I don’t know his name. She points at Eric and me, gives me a thumbs-up, then aggressively kisses her hand, making me laugh.
I’m so glad Sophia Tiana Johnson is in my life. I’m even more glad that she gets along well with Bella and Cole—though not so much with Purity.
The music plays soft and slow, while Eric’s strong arms hold me tight. I lay my head on his chest and breathe in his ocean breeze scent. I feel his protection. The way he makes me feel like it’s only him and me. I sigh the sigh of a girl who’s lost her heart to a boy, and who never intends on finding it again.
“Whatcha thinking about, Red?”
My lips lift in a smile. He’s waited until the song ended to say anything.
Yeah. He’s a keeper.
“I’ll give you one guess,” I say.
I look deep into his eyes. I wish he’d kiss me again. Slow. Toe-curling. Gentle. Like the night outside of the Lagoon motel. We’ve hung out every day, but he hasn’t kissed me since that night.
He tips my chin up with the crook of his finger. My eyes drift to his lips, then back up to meet his gaze. His lips curl in a ravishing sort of way.
The band starts up another song. It only takes me a moment to recognize it this time. It’s the same song that played that night at the lagoon—“Kiss the girl.”
“Remember that kiss I leant you?”
My mind jumps back to the morning before we ran away, when he pressed a kiss to my palm.
I nod, a little too eagerly. “I remember.”
“I think I want it back now.”
Oh yeah.
His lips meet mine, and for that brief moment in time, the world stops spinning. The music turns up. My heart beats hard to the rhythm. In those few seconds, there’s only Eric and me, souls intertwining, feet not touching the floor.
I love Eric. I’ll never deny it again. But the best part is he loves me to.
And that’s the best feeling of all.
60
The evening floats by like a dream, filled with slow dances, Eric’s lips, fast dances, Eric’s lips, and cheering on The Girl With The Red Sneakers.
I even manage to check in with Alana once or twice to make sure her and Todd’s lips are far, far away from each other.
Sorry, sis.
A while later, Eric and I walk out into the hallway, hand in hand, our feet synced with each other.
“So, what should I bring to Duckie’s wedding?” he asks.
“You were invited?”
“I was hoping to be.”
“Well, Duckie does speak highly of you.”
“And your dad. Don’t forget him. I believe he called me a fine young man.”
I smile. “Maybe once or twice.”
“Only once or twice?”
I pinch his arm, and he pretends to be hurt. I bet he didn’t even feel it.
“Maybe a few more times than that,” I say grudgingly.
“As long as you call me Ship, I’m all right.”
“I’ll call you Ship, as long as you call me Red.”
“Red and Ship. Sounds catchy. Maybe Bella can use that for one of her new songs.”
“Yeah. The adventures of Red and Ship.”
He scrunches his nose. “That sounds like a book, not a song.”
I pull him closer and put my arms on his shoulders. “I’m a swimmer, not a poet.”
He puts his arms around my waist. “And I’m totally, utterly, and completely yours.”
He leans down, his lips aiming for his favorite place.
Mine.
Then a gust of air hits us, and we turn our heads toward the door.
Jasmine, who’s been MIA all night, comes running in. Her hair’s pinned to the top of her head in a messy bun, her clothes are covered in paint, and streaks of red stain her cheeks and hands.
What’s she been up to?
She sprints past me, disappearing down the dark hallway.
What’s going on?
Why is she running like that?
And why is she covered in red paint?
The End
Click Here To Read The Secret Lives of Princesses (Jasmine’s Story)
The Secret Lives of Princesses
Prologue
I was late.
The Winter Formal started two hours ago, and I was late.
In my defense, it couldn’t be helped. It’d taken an hour just to dry my heavy black strands and pull them up into a bun. And don’t even get me started on makeup. Perfection takes time, and I didn’t leave my bedroom until I was flawless.
With tonight being my first school dance, I would accept nothing less.
I adjusted my dress, a beautiful baby blue, strapless, chiffon number I absolutely adored and pulled my white, faux fur shawl around my shoulders. Then, heels in hand and flats on my feet, I climbed out of the car and into what felt like the arctic tundra.
This was what I got for being late. I’d have to march three blocks through freezing weather in barely there fabric and a fur that was more for show than warmth.
Great.
Sure, I could have worked a coat and boots, but I’d had my dress custom made for this party, and I was going to be sure that as many people as possible saw me in it, frostbite or not.
I stepped off the curb, pulled my phone out of my purse, and fired off a quick text to Bella French, one of my best friends.
Me: Hey B. I’m on my
Suddenly, a cavalcade of blaring horns made my ears ring. Lights flashed in my eyes, blinding me. My entire body froze.
I’d literally become a deer in headlights.
Squealing tires and swearing added to the sound. Then, something, or rather someone, scooped me up, carried me a few steps, and tossed me onto the air.
It felt like I was flying in slow motion. Then, my hip connected with the concrete, and my body rolled twice along the hard ground before finally sliding to a stop.
What the heck was that?
My hip ached where it hit the concrete, and my heels, purse, and phone were no longer in my scratched and bleeding hands.
My head was swimming, trying to understand what the heck could have carried me from the street to the sidewalk with such brutal force.
I rolled into a sitting position, careful of my sore hip, and looked around. A few cars were lined up behind a yellow cab, crookedly parked in the middle of the street. The cabbie, a man with a thick mustache, glared at me out of the side window while he screamed something in a language I couldn’t understand. Then, he banged his hands on the steering wheel and sped off.
Only in New York.
I shook my head, trying to clear away the shock and residual fear, when a masked figure walked into my line of sight. By his broad shoulders and lack of boobs, I figured it was a man. He wore black, paint-smeared jeans, sneakers, and a face mask with a picture of a laughing mouth that made him look like The Joker from the Batman movies.
His intense, inky black gaze held mine for a moment, making my heart beat a little faster. He looked sort of familiar, but I couldn’t place him with the face mask on.
My hero!
I opened my mouth to thank him, when his muffled, gruff voice cut me off.
“Next time, watch where y
ou’re going, Princess.” Then, without another word, he darted across the street and disappeared down an alleyway.
So much for chivalry. I was practically a damsel in distress, and this guy just tossed me like a sack of potatoes onto the ground and insulted me on top of it. What kind of hero does that? Though, it could be worse. I could be under the front tires of a cab right about now. I guess I owed my hero a thank you for that much.
I took a few deep breaths until my racing heart returned to normal levels. Then, I ran my hands over myself. My dress was ripped and dirty, and my once perfect bun was halfway off my head.
Now I was late for the dance, scared witless, and looked a hot mess.
Fantastic!
I stood, brushed the dirt and crud off my ripped dress as best as I could, then, very carefully, I walked to the middle of the street in search of my missing phone, purse, and heels. Two of those items, my heels, and my phone, were completely destroyed, so I left them, or what was left of them, in the street, picked up my purse, and headed back to the safety of the sidewalk.
My hands were shaking, and my legs felt like Jell-O, but I somehow managed to pull my wallet from my smushed purse, remove my license, credit cards, and two twenty-dollar bills, and stuffed them all into my bra.
I briefly considered turning around and going home. It was dark and cold. I’d almost gotten hit by a car. My hero was super rude. Between my ripped dress and my messy hair, I’d have to do some serious cleaning up to even try to have an enjoyable time tonight. But, I didn’t turn around.
I still had something to do.
Someone to see.
And his name was Andrew Johnson.
All year long, I’d been dreaming about having just one dance with him. I wasn’t normally into high school guys, but Andrew was gorgeous and smart. We’d only spoken a few times in chemistry lab, but from our brief conversations, I could tell he was mature for his age. I never saw him wrestle or kid around like the other guys. He was above such childish things. One time, I swear I saw him watching the stock ticker on his phone.
So hot.
My plan was to plant myself in his general direction for the night and hope he asked me to dance. I’d been confident in that plan until I almost died and my dress and hair went to crap. Now, I’d have to find Ariel and Bella and hope that by some miracle this night could be saved.
The shakes had lessened enough for me to start walking again.
I was cold, frightened, and somehow more awake than I’d ever been in my life. It must’ve been all the adrenaline from the near accident. My arms broke out in chilly goose bumps, and I picked up my pace.
I’d only gone a block when something hard worked its way into my flats. I growled.
What else could go wrong tonight? I leaned against a nearby wall for leverage when my body went from frostbitten but dry, to frostbitten and wet. I shivered all the way down to my bones and shoved away from the wall. Oozy wetness spread from the back of my right arm to my right butt cheek.
Crap! Did I sit in water when I was on the ground? No, that was impossible. I would’ve felt wet already. What could’ve possibly gotten me this wet this fast?
I ran my left hand across my rear end, and when I pulled it back it was red. As in, blood red.
Oh my God, did I have my period? If I did, then this night would be officially over.
I gasped in panic for a moment before I remembered I’d just had my period last week.
Thank God!
So, what could the cold, red substance be? Had I cut myself while I fell?
I felt around with my left hand again.
No. There were no cuts on the wet areas of my backside and my hip was the only thing that felt bruised.
I turned around and looked at the wall.
The red wall.
The still drippy red wall.
And the handprint and hip print that now marred it.
Someone had painted a giant, disgusting, surprisingly detailed, red rat on the wall and I’d leaned right in the middle of it.
I cursed loudly and gripped the fabric of my destroyed dress. This was awful. I was ripped. Dirty. Scratched. Bruised. Nearly numb with cold. And now, I was red.
This was officially the worst night ever! I was done. Any hope I had for this night disappeared as I marched the two blocks to the school.
New plan. Find Ariel and Bella, cry on their shoulders, then ask them to walk me back to my car. Yes, it was only three blocks away, but so many crazy things had happened in the last ten minutes that I didn’t want to risk anything else.
I got to the base of the school steps when I heard a car door slam behind me. I turned and saw the last person in the world I wanted to see walking across the parking lot.
Andrew Johnson.
The car he’d been in pulled away, and he waved at it as it retreated. Then he put his hands in his pockets and started walking in my direction. His eyes were searching the faces of the clusters of students who stood, shivering, around the front of the school. He was looking for someone. A friend? Or maybe a fellow member of the F.E.W.—the Future Entrepreneurs of the World club—of whom he was the presiding officer? Either way, if he lifted his head, he’d see me in all my dirty glory.
I could not let that happen. He couldn’t see me like this. I was a mess. A nightmare. If he saw me now, I could forget him ever speaking to me again.
I rushed through the school doors, sprinting down the hallway before Andrew reached the bottom step. I flung myself through the bathroom door and stumbled toward the wall, leaning against the cool, brightly-colored tiles and closing my eyes, trying to catch my breath.
Things couldn’t get worse, could they? Surely the universe would throw me a bone here.
A few girls I didn’t know stood by the sink, staring at me with shocked expressions.
One of them, Lauren Meyers, resident school gossip, wrinkled her nose at me. She wore a flesh-colored, fitted dress with colorful detail along the bottom. “Are you… bleeding?”
Yup. They just got worse.
I let out an embarrassed laugh. “No. That’s just paint. I leaned on a wall.”
She nodded, though she didn’t look like she believed me. I was sure this incident would end up online before the night was over.
Why me?
“Someone painted RATZ on the wall two blocks away,” I said, trying to explain my redness away. But the girls were already gathering up their things and rushing out, phones in hand. Along the way, Lauren handed me a tampon and looked at me with pity-filled eyes.
“Good Luck,” she said, before rushing out to claim their next bathroom location.
I shook my head and chucked the tampon in the trash. I was sure they’d somehow managed to snap a picture as they fled.
There were always pictures of these sorts of things.
“Jasmine?” a familiar voice called from the doorway.
Ariel Swimworthy, one of my best friends, stuck her head through the bathroom door, spotted me, and gasped.
“Oh my God! Are you okay?” Her bright green eyes scanned my dirty dress, messy bun, and red streaked arms and butt. “Is that blood?”
I threw myself at Ariel, letting my tears fall on her shoulder. All of the wrongness of the day poured out of me. My near-death experience. My ruined dress and hair. How could everything had gone so wrong, so quickly?
“I leaned on a wall,” I said. “The paint wasn’t dry.”
Ariel rubbed my back in slow, comforting circles. I sagged against her.
“Why’s your dress ripped?” she asked.
“I almost got hit by a car. This guy saved me.” My lower lip trembled. “Then my phone… and my shoes… and my dress… I’m a mess!”
“Awww, don’t worry, hon,” she said. “We’ll bring the limo around and take you home.”
I sniffled.
“But what about the dance?”
She smiled and placed her hand on my chin. “Friends come before dances any day. Besides, there’s always the
Summer Fling.”
Gratitude filled my chest.
Ariel had been my best friend since the first grade. When Bella moved here in freshman year, our duo became a trio.
I blew my nose as Ariel pulled out her phone and started texting.
“But how are we going to get out?” I asked. “I can’t let Andrew see me like this.” My voice sounded mousy and whiney, even to my own ears. I hated sounding weak. I hated crying. But most of all, I hated losing control. I sucked in a few breaths, trying to pull myself together.
“Andrew?” Ariel’s fingers paused over the keys, and she raised one eyebrow at me. “Andrew Johnson?”
Oops. I hadn't told my friends about Andrew yet, mostly because I didn’t want them to get any crazy ideas about hooking us up. When Ariel and Bella got something in their heads, it was hard to get it out. If I was going to be with Andrew, it would be on my own terms, and not because of some elaborate plan.
I shrugged and turned back to the mirror, trying to fix both my ruined bun and my slipped secret.
“Look, it’s no big deal. He’s just some guy.”
“Just some guy? Boys that catch Jasmine Patel’s eye are usually of the collegiate persuasion. Are you telling me you have a crush on a high school boy?”
I hummed instead of answering. I was okay omitting the truth from Ariel, but she was my friend and I never wanted to overtly lie to her.
“Wait, is Andrew short for something? Bolly or Colly or…” She snapped her fingers, then her eyes lit up. “Ollie. Is it short for Ollie?”
“Ollie? As in Oliver Santiago?”
“I guess.”
“No. Andrew isn’t short for anything. It’s just Andrew. And why would you mention Ollie?”
She gave me a sly smile.
“No reason.”
I pulled out the bobby pins, foam piece, and ponytail holder from my hair, then slicked the stray hairs up with water while Ariel continued tapping on her phone’s keypad. I pulled my hair back through the foam piece and fanned my hair over it. Then I started pinning it into place.