Elizabeth Belle

A story I wrote a while back. I know it's a bit long but I hope you guys enjoy it.

Elizabeth Belle

My name is David, and I must tell you, being the smartest kid in the school isn’t easy. Sure it looks that way when I bust out an answer about the movement of electrons or something, or why light behaves like both waves and particles, but it actually takes weeks of preparation. I spend all my free time learning and studying. There is no having fun for me. I haven’t watched any TV since the third grade. It’s just been go go go for me. Unfortunately, that hasn’t left a lot of time for a social life. Indeed, I have almost no friends. Actually remove the world “almost” and it’s a true statement. I’m 18 years old and I haven’t had a girlfriend. I’ve gotten a reputation as a shut-in and a recluse as a result. But it’s ok. It doesn’t bother me too much. I’ve learned to love it. And I probably would have kept going in that very same path of my life until I burned out and crashed if not for the masquerade.
It was my senior year and the school was putting on a masquerade ball for us. Just about everyone was going, I gathered. And initially I wasn’t about to go. I had planned to hit the library and maybe read upon the latest on pulsars or black holes or some such topic. But then I discovered she was going to be there. Let me back up. “She” is my greatest and only foe; the only one who can match me in sheer brain power. Her name was Elizabeth Belle, a name fit for a Victorian nobelwomen. She was known as “Liz the Quiz” around school for her ability to answer any trivia question thrown at her. Believe me, I know about that one, much to my frustration. She and I have had this competition since we met in fourth grade of trying to outsmart the other. We were more or less evenly matched. She had me beat in “warm” topics like biology and psychology while she couldn’t match me in the “cold” topics like astronomy and physics.
Anyway I would never have gone if I hadn’t over heard about Liz deciding to go to the masquerade dance. It was then I knew that not only did I have to go, I had to once again show her up and defeat her. In hindsight this seems unbelievably cruel, especially with the situation I’m in now, but then and there it seemed a marvelous idea. Sketching out an idea on some notebook paper, I came up with a plan. I had no illusions that I could be a good dancer or singer or drinker, but I knew that it didn’t matter. All I needed to be was to be better than her.
The next two weeks were a flurry of preparation. I rented a tuxedo, bought a domino mask, and, almost obsessively I might add, I studied videos on how to dance on Youtube. I ignored the commonplace dances to the “popular” music. I didn’t need those. Instead I turned my attention to the more refined dances, like the waltz and the tango. As you may have surmised, and indeed laughed at already, I had only a faint idea as to what a dance was like. Anyway, as the date for the dance approached, I grew confident that I would be ready. As somewhat of an afterthought, I also bought a fedora hat to add to my disguise.
When the night finally arrived, I strode into the decorated gym like I owned the place. Nobody knew who I was in my black tuxedo, silver vest, black tie, hat, mask, and sleek leather shoes.. Therefore, they wouldn’t judge me, and I could create an entirely new person for myself. I was as moldable and shapeable as modeling clay. With that firmly in mind, I began to lay the groundwork. I danced to a few songs, talked to several people, and tried to be as outgoing as possible. It would all pay off later. At least, that was the plan. It went all sideways when I saw her. She was a beautiful creature in a black dress. I couldn’t help but be attracted to the luscious way her dress ended at her knee, or the way it accentuated her curves without appearing trashy or making her look like a harlot. Her black hair was brushed out long behind her, appearing silky and glossy in the low light of the dance. Her identity was frustratingly hidden by a white porcelain mask that entirely covered her face except for her mouth. The mask was exquisitely done, with intricate features added to the mask in black. I immediately felt self-conscious in mine that only covered part of my upper face. In a moment, my heart had entirely overridden my wits, and almost without my will my body had walked over to her with the intention of chatting her up.
“Hello stranger,” she said with a seductive smile. My insides nearly melted under her blue-eyed gaze. What was I doing? I was sorely tempted to simply flee immediately. I could be done and gone within five minutes. Nobody would ever have to know. Instead I followed my instincts and did something more impulsive. I leaned towards her and said “Evening miss.” It was the beginning of the end for me.
I could see her gaze traveling over my face, trying to discern my identity. I felt the urge to adjust my mask but resisted. It was preferable to look unconcerned. Instead I allowed my eyes to roam her frame, taking in everything about my mystery woman. Something about her seemed familiar, but try as I might, I couldn’t place her in the frame of my mind. “Lovely evening, isn’t it?” I said to my companion to try and foster conversation. She nodded back at me. “’Tis indeed a fine night. Perfect in every respect.” Her vocabulary and diction both sounded like someone’s I had heard before, but again, I could not place it. I suppose by now, dear reader, you see it plain as day and are laughing at what a fool I am for not seeing it. And I must confess, I don’t blame you. It should have been plain as day to me and yet it was not, no doubt because of a combination of the low light, the chaos of the dance, and the attractiveness of my mystery girl’s dress. However, soon the revelation was to dawn apon me, because quite soon a song I knew very well began to play. My companion smiled at me, because she recognized the melody as well; the song in question was “Sentimental Journey” as performed by Doris Day. “Would you give me this dance?” she asked coyly. I gazed into her sky blue orbs and yes. “Yes I will,”
My companion drew her arms around my neck, and I similarly put my arms around her waist. Her head only went up to me neck, so she rested her’s on my chest as we began to move together. “You’re a good dancer,” she congratulated me. I simply smiled back, because inside my stomach had quite twisted itself into knots. My emotions ran rampant around themselves. Happy and terrified dueled to the death. Then I happened to look down at her neck and caught sight of a pearl white scar. I recognized the scar, and with a start I realized who my beautiful companion was. I identified her as my arch-enemy, my rival in all this cerebral. She was Elizabeth Belle.
I wanted to run, to push her aside and make for the door. But I couldn’t because I realized one undeniable fact. I had fallen in love with her just from this simple dance. The song ended just then, and in the silence and the dark, an unexpected event happened. Elizabeth kept her arms around my neck and, leaning forward slightly, kissed me ever so gently and tenderly. I must admit, at this point my mind went blank. She couldn’t know that my persona was really me. There was no possibility that she would do such a thing if she did. But curse it all, I loved it so. So I kissed her back fully, expressing my emotions in the most pure medium I had access to.
How long we stayed like that I could not guess, but it felt like quite a while before she finally broke the kiss. Her coy smile returned. “Would you like to go somewhere more private?” she asked me. I expressed my agreement. We both gathered our things and left the dance, still with our masks on. We walked the few blocks to her residence, making inconsequential idle chatter along the way. When we finally arrived, I had to start, because her domicile was only a few removed from mine. I had never suspect she had lurked so close to me.
We crossed the threshold of her door and made her way upstairs to her bedroom. She asked me to remove her shoes and I complied. Her room was, in a word, pure. White was the dominant color, with pictures of angels and doves covering the walls. I had little time to admire the art before she quite roughly grabbed me and pushed me to the bed. She kissed me again, just as passionate as before. Any hope that this would be an innocent kiss passed when she slipped me something into my hand. I looked down and say what it was: a foil package containing a condom. I knew exactly what was to result of tonight. I locked eyes with her. She pushed herself up off the bed, and began to shed herself of her dress.
“Come to me once again and release me from grueling anxiety,” Elizabeth quoted to me as she removed her shoes. “And all the my heart longs for, fulfill,” she said as her dress dropped to the floor. “And be yourself my ally in loves battle,” she finished as I admired the look of her body in the pale moonlight that came though the window as she stood in only her mask. Vaughe warning of what I was about to do floated through my mind, the crime of rape by impersonation chief among them. “I must protest,” I started to say, before she put her finger to my lips to silence me. “I care not for who you are, for I already know,” she said, and then kissed me yet again while she unbuttoned my jacket. That was it for my resistance.
Again I know not how long this lasted, only that it was not long enough. Soon enough we were done, happy, and content. Elizabeth smiled at me. “You did a good job, David.” My insides nearly froze over. “How did you know?” I asked her. She refused to answer, simply kissing me in answer.
That was a month ago. Since then, we’ve become a couple joined together. Our competition has evaporated, replaced with a companionship. I love her and she me. At least I expect she does. I know not what the future will hold, but I only hope it’s with my beautiful love, Elizabeth Belle.