Page 46 of Just a Plot Twist
She huffs in frustration, which makes me laugh. She may not want to sit down, but I can do all in my power to not aggravate her ankle, so I slow down, our box steps going half time.
When the music finally stops, I swivel my wrist so she can gently spin and curtsy. But partway through, her ankle buckles.
She goes down fast. And with a sliding bang and a yelp, she pulls me on top of her.
Chapter 15
Claire
Horrified.
That’s the look on my grandmother’s face from across the ballroom as Benson rolls off me and leaps to his feet. In the din of the music and dancing, the gasps from around the room as we fell still reverberate in my ears.
Yeah, I won’t forget that sound for a long while. It was like the kerfuffle with the swans—only worse.
Grandma’s standing there in shock, glued in place, still in closed position with my grandfather. Benson reaches for my hand, but I ignore the gesture.My grandmother’s look of total and complete grief has me stuck to the floor. Her lips move around words I can’t hear and then Grandpa’s head swivels around so he can also gawk at us.
I would get up, but my ankle is jelly. Puffy, pulsating jelly.
That’s not even my biggest concern. My grandparents look like they’ve just gotten word that their favorite person in the world has died.
Can it be me? Please? I volunteer!
Or maybe they’re so disappointed in me that I’m already dead to them.
Benson steps closer to me. His look is also somber, but there’s more compassion in the slant of his brows and the set of his jaw.
“Can you stand at all? I can help—” He steps behind me, reaches down with both arms, and goes to pull me up.
“I got it, thanks.” I want to get up on my own.
He takes a step back. “I’m sorry I landed on you.”
“I’m sorry I pulled you down.”
By now, the quartet has stopped playing again and people are either staring at me in curiosity or looking away because this moment is…terrible and embarrassing.
First the swans—the thing my grandmother wanted most of all—attack each other, and then I’m spread eagle on the dance floor, with a grown man on top of me?
Is this real life?
“I’m totally and completely fine, everyone!” I say loudly. I plant my palms on the floor to get up. My grandmother waves her hand towards the string quartet, telling them to resume. She pastes on a smile and, still holding Grandpa’s hand, makes her way towards me.
The fear of being on the floor when she arrives gives me superhuman strength. Somehow, I manage to come to a standing position, with Benson hovering nearby as a spotter. I straighten my baby blue, wispy, ankle length gown, hoping there isn’t a stain from the floor all over the back of it.
“Are you alright dear?” Grandma asks, her face etched with concern.
“I’m all good. Had a little stumble.” I try to put weight on my ankle but it’s useless.
Now that it’s clear I haven’t died right here, their horrified expressions change to something else, with Grandpa vigorously chewing on his bottom lip and Grandma’s head tilted just so.
I know that head tilt.
“It was abigstumble. Be more careful, Claire,” Grandma chides. “This floor is original to the venue. It isn’t built for shenanigans.”
“I wasn’t—” I press my lips together to calm myself. After a breath, I say, “I’m sorry I fell and embarrassed you.”
They say nothing—just observe us with that same, desperate look in their eyes.
