Pretzel Bites Ending

Pretzel Bites (Ending)

Arii adjusted the music a bit louder.

That day she should have thrown her pretzel at his stupid face! But unlike Damelo, she knew her actions had consequences. Not to mention she was glad she hadn’t because Dad hadn’t cooked dinner that day.

Instead, she had walked away in complete silence. Damelo looked like an entire pound of fluffy, sad puppies drenched in maple syrup. Overdoing it for sympathy.

Maybe… Did he like her or something? As giddy as the thought should have made her, it was beaten to a pulp by her indignation. How dare he? What about what she wanted?

Arii was completely fine being a casual dancer. She didn’t want a career in dance like him. The spotlight wasn’t for her anyway. She had never tried out for the solo dance auditions. Dancing in a group was best for her. No beady eyes would be targeted on her in praise or scrutiny if she made a misstep. Sure, she had to remember her moves, but so did everyone else. The unity put her at peace.

Even groups of two were fine for her. But she couldn’t fly under the radar with Damelo, this generation’s best dancer. He was a Beethoven, and she was just the jingle maker for a commercial. Two different leagues and she was completely fine with that. She just wanted to have fun and play a part in the Harvest Festival. Maybe make her dad cheer in paternal pride at his daughter and give her granny something to film. But no.

Not only had Damelo robbed someone worthy of his dance skill the opportunity, but he had also bribed the coordinators. She remembered Damelo came from a wealthy family. He was humble, generous, and rich a well-liked combo. And a briber too.

Arii repositioned her earphones. She wanted them deep in the innermost parts of her ear, to drown out the anger and fear.

Damelo’s asinine bribe had even caused friction with the other dancers. Reggie, his best friend and jazz dancer, was bummed that he wasn’t considered. Jonni, the pale, red-headed girl, gave her an understandable cold shoulder. It was supposed to be a big deal to be paired with the number one dancer. Arii felt like she cheapened the dance, being his partner.

She hadn’t even wanted this.

-----

The night of the Harvest Festival had been wordless and tense. Arii could barely speak to Damelo without feeling upset. She changed into her dance clothes slowly and took her time. When she was ready, Damelo and she had the room to themselves.

They stretched their legs spread across the bamboo floor of the backstage room. His body was cloaked in an orange, puffy shirt with billowing sleeves and brown tights and fairy wings. Her outfit was an orange leotard and tutu and pink wings but with no tights; Her legs were already brown.

Silence sashayed out as Damelo cleared his throat. Even while stretching, he had looked miserable.

“I’m sorry, Arii. I was just thinking I wanted to spend time with you and get to know you. We really only see each other at dance class, and we’ve only been paired twice in four years! I thought I could give you a chance at the spotlight.”

“Then ask me! I would’ve told you no!” The volume of her yell surprised even her. Arii had forgotten how loud she could get with her mousy voice.

He winced.

She hadn’t meant to scream at him, but what she said was still valid.

“I wish you would have suggested it to me. I would’ve said no, but I definitely would have been aware you wanted to be friends. We could have hung out at the library.”

“Friends?” His cheeks went the faintest red the tanned skin would allow. “Well, I actually wanted to be more than that.”

Arii felt her heart race for a moment.

“Jeez, we’re only twelve, Damelo,” Arii squeaked in embarrassment, her eyes widening. Suddenly, she became hyper-focused on her stretches.

Damelo inched closer to her.

“What’s wrong with us being twelve? My brother had a relationship in kindergarten. No big deal. Most twelve-year-olds are—”

“I get it. I get it. Damelo,” she stopped him quickly, “I… I’m just not interested in that now. I mean if you wanna watch a movie, hang out at the library, or dance for fun and not performance, then that’s fine.”

“That’s fine with me, Arii.”

She nodded her head, happy that discussion is dissipating.

“Could we kiss sometime though? It doesn’t have to be anytime soon just in this lifetime,” he laughed. “Even then, I think it’s okay. Gives me something to wait for besides death.”

Arii laughed with him. 

“That got morbid really fast.”

“It did, huh?” He drew up to his full height, a dancing giraffe with midnight black hair. Damelo would be the handsome, morally-gray action hero in a book. She could recommend him a good one when he learned his lesson about boundaries. He would read graphic novels, and she would read fantasy books about dragons while they held hands under the table and got scolded by librarians for too much noise.

Her voice was very soft. “I would like that as long as you don’t mind... I’ve never kissed anyone.” She looked at his face for any sign of mockery. If she heard so much as a snicker, she would withdraw that statement faster than it took to blink.

“Fine with me.” He smiled shyly. “So, no tongue then?”

“DAMELO!”

“Just kidding.” He placed his hand behind his head.

----

The last-minute solo dance had been the compromise.

Damelo performed by himself. Rightfully so, the story he could dance with 206 bones was horrifyingly beautiful. If dance was a paintbrush, then he had written his name in cursive across the stage. Of course, his dance ended in standing ovation and applause. Arii certainly clapped for him.

On the other hand, Arii fumbled and bumbled through her dance. She had been squeezed into Desha and Nesha’s duet dance, making an awkward trio. For one reason, she was tall as a tree to their marshmallow-sized heights. Still, they got through it. The crowd laughed at her missteps and ill-timed twirls, thinking it a comedic dance. She had fun and that was what mattered.

When the dance portion of the show had ended, the little kids were given lanterns for the Harvest scavenger hunt. Couples held hands and shared scarves, and food vendors racked up buckets of money from hungry attendees.

The pretzel food truck already had a long line, but Arii squeezed herself into it. From behind her, faint footsteeps became a bit louder.

She knew it was his light footsteps, and his hair seemed to bleed into the night sky.

“Do I have permission to buy you a pretzel?”

Arii smiled at him. “Yes, I want the one with the hotdog.”

Damelo waggled his eyebrows. “That’s the most expensive item on the board.”

“I know. That’s why you’re buying.”

He shook his head amused. Once again, the line bent to the whim of their lovely dancing prince. He paid ahead of time, even though they had to wait for the dough to rise. The flurry of customers hadn’t left the food truck much time to make some in reserve.

“You were great tonight, Arii.”

“Thank you, Damelo. You were amazing,” she said, and she meant it. Every word.

“Again, I just want to say I’m sorry. It wasn’t right for me to bribe and make a decision that involved someone else without hearing their feelings.”

This would’ve been the point some people would say “it’s okay,” even though his past actions weren't. Instead, Arii just smiled.

“Damelo.”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve already been in line, haven’t you?”

“Why do you think that?”

“You’ve got pretzel sugar all over your hands.”

“True.”

He grabbed his chin into his hand, leaving sugar.

“Can I wipe my hands on your tutu?”

“Of course not!”

“Ha! Just asking ahead of time.”

Arii touched her head. Damelo was learning. Slowly. At least, he was making an effort not to take over, assume, or do whatever he wanted.

She might be willing to guide him. If he kept the doughy peace offerings coming.

END