Dirty Dancing-7

 

When Clara returned for dinner, Philly had a black eye and the sense on regret ove his face. Dispite this sense of regret, when Philadelphia saw, he still smiled that smile that said "You're my heaven. I'm glad you're here." Clara didn't know whether to smile at the or be worried, but she did not have time to decide once she was pulled to a large table right next to her father and several other un-cleaned men. Music was playing in the background on the other side of the room.

 

Philadelphia came running by in less than a second to put a sloppy plate of some type of 'food' next to her. Nobody at the table hesitated at his approach except Clara who couldn't keep her eyes of the alrge purple mark on his head. She cried inside seeing him so hurt. But Philly went on with his duty as everyone else on the kitchen staff. Like Mr. Brown and The Deaf Chuck and the busboys like Philadelphia.

 

Clara chowed down the 'meal' so fast, just to see Philadelphia again. He came back eight times the half hour they were there.

 

Clara couldn't eat anymore. She had had nine meals and none served her more than Philadelphia did. She just sat there and watched Philadelphia serve food to other crew members and listen to the music play a happy tune she wished she could join into. When an hour past, she had memorized the tune. That's when Philadelphia came by.

 

"You know, my shift is over. Zachariah and Jonathan are taken over."

 

"Wow. That's cool." She tried to show her flirtasious side, but it seemed not to be working.

 

Philadelphia turned to look at the band playing that cacthy tune. "You wanna dance?"

 

"What? No, I can't dance."

 

"Sure you can, watch."

 

Philly reached for her hand and waited for her to take his. When she didn't, he quickly grabbed hers and stood her up on his own feet. He counted the beat for her until she joined in.

 

"One, and, Two, and Three, and Four..." they both said in unison. Clara smiled as she looked down at her feet moving along with Philly's.

 

"Philly!" Philadelphia looked up to see Clara's father, Reynold, standing with his hands crossed and an anger look on his face. Before Philly could react, "Get back to the kitchen, me' boy!"

 

"But wait!" said Clara before Philly left. But it was already too late, and he rushed to the kitchen, pouncing Clara on the ground. "My shift is over!" She said in a mocking tone. "His shift as over!" She lled bac to the kitchen, arms crossed and legs spread out on the floor.

 

But she kept whispering the lies to herself. They were horrible lies. Because they kept her from the truth. The truth that Philladelpia risked anoer beating to be with her. She iagined his face again. Te ugly black eye didn't take away from the softness of his stare. 

 

"Clara!" A startling yell. "Get 'ur hiney off the floor!" It was Dad's best friend, Mr. Quater. His hollar wasn't mean, bu playful, as he glupped down another beer wear halfthe liquids missed his mouth, and dreamed on about another horrible hangover in the morning.