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DISCLAIMER: Stephenie Meyer may own them, but I can manipulate them. HA, HA, HA, HA, HA…cough. That’s it for my Mandar laugh.
In the heart of Seattle, Washington, nestled in a 2-bedroom apartment were Alice and me, Bella.
We were best of friends that came from opposite ends of the earth. She was the overly perky one, while I rested at a calm neutral.
I had just returned home from an afternoon of classes. I flung my bag onto the counter and made way towards the sofa, where I prepared to put my feet up and relax. Ah, my favorite part of the day: the transition between when I came home and when Alice came home.
Alice. Sometimes that girl was too high energy for me. I looked around the apartment and her bubbly personality was definitely evident on every surface she could get her crafty hands on.
Currently, she used her interior design skills to remake our apartment into an abstract art museum. The couch was now plush and an ivory white, contrasting the boldly streaked pillows. Paintings contained busy layouts of primary colors. Our apartment was like Alice: busy. Sometimes, I can’t keep up with her. And her room…
Her room surprisingly didn’t change that often. Right now, it resembled a royal suite. Framing her suite was a four post bed that was stacked so high with mattresses you would think The Princess and the Pea would have been set there. She had satin sheets of aquamarine and lime green that glittered and draped onto the floor. Her bed was finished off with an over abundant supply of pillows, ranging from sinkable soft to rock hard firm. On her vanity, there is a mound of makeup, various shades of blushes, eye shadows…each one seeming to have some significance.
But even Alice had her secret: she had a shoe fetish. Shocking, I know. One day, I walked into her to see her pushing against her closet door.…
“Alice, what’s going on?” I asked, frightened by the horror stricken on her face. She was startled and all of a sudden a wave of shoe boxes sprayed across her room.
“It’s not what it looks like, Bella,” she sped. “I don’t have a problem. I don’t have a problem…I do have a problem. But I need them. All of them,” she gestured towards the array of shoes. She slumped to the floor cradling one heel and she began to stroke it like a cat. “Each pair goes with a designated outfit. And ‘You’re never fully dressed without a Manolo Blahnik…,” she trilled.
“I thought it was ‘You’re never fully dressed without a smile.’”
She just shrugged.
But, there was one room Alice couldn’t touch: my room. I liked the simple things and my room represented just that. My bed wasn’t sickeningly soft. It was soft enough to be comfortable, but firm enough that you won’t suffocate in fluff. My closet had a decent array of clothes (though Alice may disagree), and I had only a brush, a couple of clips, and a tube of lip gloss lying on my dresser.
“You have serious problems,” she would say.
…Anyways, between working in a bookstore, going to school, and keeping up with Alice, this short 30-minute break was my heaven. I liberated my feet and began to massage them. I tripped today, but that was no big deal. If I only tripped once, I was having a good day. After I felt like I soothed my feet enough, I lay back on the sofa and closed my eyes.
“Bella, I have a surprise for you!” Alice sung. Man, thirty minutes went by quick. Well, it was good while it lasted. I hesitantly peeked out of one eye to see Alice beaming as she held out a package towards me. I groaned in disgust.
“Get it away from me,” I muttered as I slightly pushed the box away. I absolutely hated surprises and Alice knew that. Why does she like to press my buttons? I stared at her with both eyes as I crossed my arms. She temptingly waved the gift in front of me. Like I was trained, I curiously watched it flow back and forth. “You know you shouldn’t surprise me. One of these days, I might blow up,” I joked as I snatched the box from her. She giggled giddily as I began my mutilation of the parcel brown wrap. There was another layer of wrap. But, this one shimmered when it caught the light. I looked at her confused. More wrap?
“Open it,” she ushered. I proceeded with my tearing through the layer of wrap and revealing the contents inside.
“Heels, Alice? You got me HEELS!?”
She ignored my outburst and took the shoes. Apparently, she didn’t think I appreciated her gesture. “Bella, these are signature Marc Jacobs,” she frowned from my lack of recognition. The name itself seemed to electrify the air with class. “These shoes have a peep hole for your toes and they are not that high, Bella.” Indeed she was right. The shoes – smooth black leather that danced together to expose minimal toe – had only indeed a one and a half inch heel. But, they still looked too sophisticated for my clumsy feet.
“But Alice, why would you buy me a pair of heels?” I inquired. She moved towards the opposite end of the sofa and put her feet up to sit Indian style. She let the shoes rest in her lap as her smile widened.
“I wanted to start you off with something small and easily manageable. And well, because I knew you were going to need a pair to start off with when we started our…tango lessons!”
“WHAT!” I, Bella, do not dance. I couldn’t dance. I was like the whitest person I knew. It was like when my genes where being factored, dance skills seem to have disappeared from the batch. “I draw the line with this, Alice. No way!” I protested as I stalked towards my bedroom. I knew she was following me so I didn’t even bother to close the door. I sat down on my bed and looked at her as she leaned on the door frame, staring at me incredulously. “I refuse to participate this time. Count me out.”
“Come on, Bella,” She whined.
“No! Alice, you always get me caught in your crazy ruses. I went along with stealing the Porsche. Why? Because you said we wouldn’t get caught. I went along with you when you wanted to go cliff diving. Why? Because you said it wasn’t dangerous. Now, you want me to get in front of a group of people and dance. In heels. No. I. DON’T. DANCE.” She crossed her arms and pouted as I glared at her. She narrowed her eyes to glare back. She broke first.
“Ah, Bella, it wouldn’t be as much fun without my best buddy in the whole, wide world there,” she reasoned. I continued to stare at her in disbelief. “Imagine all the cute guys there.” I raised an eyebrow. I haven’t dated since high school. No, still wasn’t worth the humiliation. “Please, Bella. Do it for me,” she begged.
I searched for an escape. Window…no, it was too high. Bathroom…no, I would have to come out sometime. Door…shoot, she was in the way. I didn’t have any options. It was no use. If I didn’t give in now, she was probably going to drag me onto that dance floor…
I sighed. “Where do I sign up?”
Alice clapped and bounced around until she registered my question. She shrugged nervously. I groaned again.
“When did you sign me up, Alice?”
“A week ago,” she squeaked.
I glared at her. “Wow…Alice, you are special,” I enunciated slowly.
“Thanks, Bella,” she smiled, mistaking my sarcasm for a compliment. She drew me into a hug. Finally, I pushed her jokingly aside and went to retrieve the dance shoes that might be my undoing. Tango lessons could be fun, right? Who knows, I might actually learn something.