Chapter 51: Chapter 51: Preparing for the Gala
Hearing stories about things they’d never experienced themselves, the students just laughed and moved on. No one took the words to heart, nor did they stop to consider why the person in the story had decided to start studying hard again.
...
On Wednesday, the school announced it would be holding a New Year’s Gala in December. Each class was required to prepare a talent act.
This sort of thing was always a headache for the horoom teachers. Julian Carlton leaned a hand on the lectern, speaking casually. "Does anyone have a talent they’d like to share? Singing, dancing, anything works. If you don’t care about the participation points, maybe the prize money will interest you."
He held up three fingers. "First place gets three hundred yuan this ti. That’s enough for so of you to hit an internet cafe or grab so bubble tea after school."
The whole class roared with laughter. One of the class clowns shouted, "Mr. Carlton, let
go up! I can do the one where they smash a boulder on your chest."
Mr. Carlton chuckled. "With that scrawny fra of yours? It’s more likely the boulder would smash *you*."
The class erupted in laughter again.
Mr. Carlton asked a few more tis, but no one volunteered. He finally ca up with a compromise. "How about a poetry reading, then? The class president and..."
Suddenly, Iris Kensington raised her hand, cutting him off. "Mr. Carlton, Holly knows classical dance! She perford in middle school and won first place in the whole school competition."
Holly Winslow, thus "betrayed" by her best friend, flinched, drawing a long, black line across her worksheet with her pen. "..."
She had studied classical dance for five years. It was Yvonne Lewis who had first signed her up for classes.
But after her parents divorced, she stopped.
All eyes in the classroom fell on her. Mr. Carlton said decisively, "Alright, Holly Winslow it is."
"Mr. Carlton, I can’t do it by myself. Let’s just have the class president do a poetry reading," Holly said, trying to pass the buck to the class president beside her.
Sean Hayes: "..."
"The class president can help Holly organize the group. I hope you’ll all be eager to sign up." In his decade-plus teaching career, Mr. Carlton had grown to despise poetry readings. He was sick to death of hearing them.
Holly Winslow: "..."
As soon as Mr. Carlton left, she shot out of her seat, marched over to Iris Kensington’s desk, and said, "Iris, I’m going to kill you!"
Iris raised her hands in surrender, trying to placate her. "Holly, it’s three hundred yuan! Wouldn’t that buy a lot of bubble tea? What’s not to like?"
’Like hell it is!’
Holly gave her a light pinch and said with a wicked grin, "You’re not getting away that easily. We need two backup dancers. That’ll be you and Anna."
"What? Holly, have rcy! I’ve got two left feet. Make Anna do it. I’ll be your gopher, I’ll fetch you water, anything!" Iris put on a tragically pained expression.
Anna Willow walked over just in ti to hear that and imdiately tead up with Holly to "bully" her.
The three of them dissolved into a fit of playful roughhousing.
Holly Winslow went and gave Iris Kensington’s and Anna Willow’s nas to Sean Hayes.
After the evening study hall, the three of them found a relatively secluded spot on the athletic field. A few other classes were already out there, rehearsing.
Holly Winslow watched a video on her phone once and had more or less morized the routine. She put the phone back in her bag. "Anna, Ellie, your parts don’t have a lot of moves, but the positioning is important. I’ll show you."
She rose onto her tiptoes, placing her hands above her head. Then, as her hands drifted down, her waist began to sway gracefully.
Bathed in the dim yellow light of the field, a soft glow fell over her, and she seed to co alive.
Iris Kensington nudged Anna Willow’s shoulder and whispered, "Isn’t she amazing? The first ti I saw Holly dance, I was completely stunned."
Anna Willow nodded in agreent. "She’s incredible. I never knew Holly could dance. She’s never ntioned it."
Iris Kensington knew the real reason. After Holly’s parents got divorced, Holly had spent that entire period with her eyes swollen from crying.
Just then, a whistle cut through the air. "Lookin’ good!!"
The three girls looked over. It was a few boys from their class, Jared Zimrman among them.
Holly Winslow: "..."
She lowered her arms and stood up straight, waiting until the boys had left before she continued teaching.
...
Over the next two days at school, she managed to teach Anna Willow and Iris Kensington the basic movents. As they were leaving after school, Holly patted both their shoulders and reminded them, "Practice hard when you get ho."
She then headed out of the school gates to find Wyatt Winslow’s car. When she got in, she found a cup of bubble tea waiting on the seat, still warm.
She bead at Wyatt Winslow. "Thanks, Dad."
Once the car was moving, Holly Winslow put on a mysterious expression. "Dad, guess what I scored on the test?"
Wyatt Winslow had actually already called Julian Carlton to ask, but he played along anyway. "What did you get?"
"A 643! Dad, a 643!" Holly Winslow gloated.
Wyatt Winslow nodded. "Keep up the good work. Do you want to get hot pot?"
"Yes!" Holly Winslow chuckled.
They drove in silence for a mont before Wyatt Winslow spoke again. "Have him co, too."
Holly Winslow was in the middle of texting Mortir Quincy and didn’t register what he’d said at first. "Dad, who...?"
Then it clicked that he ant Mortir. She quickly buttered her dad up. "You’re the best, Dad."
’Wyatt Winslow was starting to accept Mortir.’
She sent a ssage to Mortir, who quickly replied with an "Okay."
Wyatt Winslow made a special trip back to the entrance of Delian to pick up Mortir. Mortir was wearing an army-green trench coat with the collar slightly popped, black pants, and white sneakers.
His hair was cut shorter than last week, making his features look much sharper.
Holly Winslow rolled down the window and waved at him. "Mortir, over here!"
Mortir looked up, then got into the back seat. Holly glanced at him with a mischievous smile. "Just got a haircut?"
Mortir raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.
’His father-in-law was right there. He’d better be on his best behavior.’
’He could "deal with" his wifey later.’
The group went to the sa hot pot restaurant as last ti. Wyatt Winslow wasn’t much of a talker, so the al was quiet.
...
It was already past four by the ti they finished eating and got ho. After dropping Holly off, Wyatt Winslow went to the factory to take care of so business.
Holly Winslow stayed ho to do her howork. They had mostly just been going over exams in class this week, so there wasn’t much. She finished in a little over an hour.
She glanced at her watch. It was only two minutes past six. Still early. She decided to dig out her old dance costu to practice.
’Good, it still fits, just barely. Otherwise, I’d have to buy a whole new one.’
She was still practicing when Mortir Quincy arrived. His eyes swept over her several tis. The dance costu was form-fitting, outlining every curve of her body.
He raised an eyebrow. "What’s this? Trying to seduce ?"
Holly Winslow: "..."
"Hubby, could you be a little more decent?"
She explained, "It’s for the school’s New Year’s Gala. Our class has to perform an act, and Mr. Carlton picked ."
Noticing his gaze lingering on her chest, she shot him a glare and covered herself. "Where do you think you’re looking!"
Mortir let out a low chuckle. "Wifey, you know the answer to that."
Holly Winslow: "..."
’She had underestimated this guy’s shalessness.’
"What are you doing here so late?"
"Mom brought sothing back for you from her business trip. She asked
to give it to you."
Mortir held up the item in his hand. "Aren’t you going to let
in, wifey? It’s cold out here."
Holly Winslow opened the door and let him in. Music was still playing in the living room. Mortir set the item down and turned back to Holly. "Wifey, dance for your hubby. We’ve been married for years, and I never knew my wife could dance."
Holly Winslow: "..."
’If he weren’t staring at her with such a lustful gaze, she might have actually felt up to dancing.’
"I’m not dancing. I have to do howork."
Mortir raised an eyebrow and wrapped his arm around her. "If wifey won’t dance, then hubby’s going to have to take matters into his own hands." As he spoke, he gave her waist a light squeeze.
Holly Winslow: "..."
She obediently danced.
The Holly who danced was different from her usual self. Her eyes sparkled with a unique charm, and the long silk ribbons on her costu moved like tempting claws, beckoning him closer.
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