Restoring Dragon's Heart

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” The voice at the other end of the phone laughed. “You must be at the Prom.” “Did you say that to every girl on your to-hit list?” Belle replied with a smirk at her tone, feeling the evening wind in her hair. “Hey, cut me some slack, Girl Scout! Not all of us are lucky.” The husky voice answered. “Save me the morality speech. You know, you could make this all so easy for me." "It would not be fun if I did. Besides, I did see you today. Why did you not make your move?" Belle asked, a smirk on her face. "What do you mean? Oh Ho! I do hope you are not calling me a wussy?" The person on the other line said, laughing. "I don't know. Maybe." "You're acting tough. But you will be mine." Confidence oozed from each word spoken to her. At that, she sucked in air between her teeth. She was not a prize anybody could claim. And the way she had been spoken to? She definitely did have a say about who she fell for. Not some overly egoistic human at the end of her phone line. “I have to go.” Belle responded, clutching her strap bag tighter. “Yes, see you at Prom!” She shook her head. Those words again. That confidence from it. Was it merely a farce or would she see it in person too? She sighed, knowing fully well that she would have her answer soon. At Prom. One glance at the disconnected call screen revealed the time to Belle. It is 6:45pm, a blistering cold winter evening in September in the streets of Brasilia, Brazil. It seems even colder when Belle pauses her steps on the increasing beats of her heart, her throat muscles constricted. God, how she hated this time of the year. It restricted her ability to think, made her cold and generally numbed her senses. Especially at a time like this when she needed to find a way to convince her parents. Prom was only a few days away. Knowing her parents, Belle was unsure she would be allowed. And it did not help that she was not yet 18. Legally, it meant her opinion did not count. At least, not until she reached adulthood. For now, her parents could very much restrict her. They had done it before. Once when she had turned 16. The bitterly cold winds blew once more as a plethora of honks resounded across the streets. Drivers impatiently zooming as they went about their business, none minding the lady still on the sidewalk. Brasilia, where she lived, was the capital of Brazil. It was the status quo seeing drivers weave their way into a perpetual rush for something or into something. Occasionally, the horns of a police car would blare out. The sounds of it brought a level of alarm and yet peace to the ever-badgered roads. Belle’s blue, knee-length gown swayed as vehicles sped past. Her hair was not left out as well as stray strands brushed over her eyes. After standing for a minute or so, watching people weave their way around her, she exhaled. In one bust, releasing all the pent up anxiety in her cramped shoulders. She would have to do that. There was nothing more for her to do. After all, what more could she afford to lose? The worst that could happen was that she would not be allowed to go. Even if that happened, she could rest easy knowing that she had spoken out in what she wanted. She had always been a timid girl. The nerd who everyone seemed to know best for and want to pick on. Standing there longer than she would have wanted to, Belle frowned slightly as she recalled a memory back then. It was fleeting, but the thought of it was enough to bring a sad smile to her face. She inhaled now, stifling back the threat of raining eyes by opening her eyes wide, unblinking. It was some high school prank she had picked up to cope with things. Especially when someone tries to pick on her, emotionally. But as always, it did not help much. Except that it pricked her eyes, forcing the need to blink. The result was often obvious whenever she played that card. She’d end up blinking and then the downpour would come. She was outside, Belle noted, she was not going to sob out there. High school life was the peak of many people. It was her peak too. It was a time she did not have many worries. Except the ever persistent worry of her parents blocking her from everything. Parties were a no go. Sleep overs, f*******n! After class studies: denied. She was always on curfew, even on weekends. It was suffocating and she was fed up with it. Then someone found out. Told her classmates. The story underwent many twists and additions afterwards. But in all, the many versions of it were always triggering her emotions. About how much of a baby she was. She was lucky she was not bullied because many times it had come too close to that. Or maybe the people who taunted her the most always did that from afar. Like they were scared of something. Still, their words hurt. It always did. When she mentioned it home to her parents, at the turn of 17, she was rebuffed. It didn’t matter. She was special. Others could not understand. But they had to protect her. No matter the cost. These were the classic statements she made in response. She hated hearing them. Desperately wishing for a change of fortunes in her life. However, she was young. Too young to make the calls herself. At least to her parents. Her father was a Nigerian. He hailed from western Yoruba culture. Her mum, Lisa, was white. An American by birth. She was a child of a mixed marriage, evidence of love. But with mixed marriages comes the clash of cultures. She had only herself to bear with it. Belle was an only child. Her mum was more liberal than her father. But even at that, mum had her flaws. She was always authoritative and would not reason with anyone unless a miracle occurred. Bearing with her was equivalent to shoving a knife into one's throat. In contrast, her father was more understanding. Still, he had his own flaw when it came to her movements. She wondered how he would take the news. Unless her mom was on her side, there was no hope for her. She sighed. She had to be at this Prom. It came only once a lifetime and nothing could stop it. “Get it together!” Belle slapped the sides of her cheek gently now. “You will get home and tell them. It will be easy, I promise you.” She assured herself. HONK! Another series of car horns brought her back from her spacing out. She sighed, hastily clutching her bag to her stomach as she checked the screen of her smartphone. It was 7pm. At this instance, Belle knew she was dead. She was way past her curfew. And only the heavens could save her. Fear gripped her muscles tight, bulging her eyes instantly. Her heart went into a rapid dance, slamming violently against her ribs. Simultaneously, her brain fired out commands, her feet gearing into action as she burst out in a race. All the while hoping and wishing her parents would not see her arrive this late. Else, she was done for.