No Secrets

As she toyed with the idea of inviting Billy to the dance, Yolanda’s fingers twirled her dirty hair into even dirtier curls. She wondered how she could possibly pull this off, given the impossibility of the situation.

In a moment of clarity, Yolanda jumped up, bounced over to the bookcase and pulled out her secret diary, which she kept between the Thesaurus and The Complete Works Of Shakespeare. She knew no one else in her household would ever reach for either of these lengthy tomes.

Towards the back, Yolanda kept a page of secret codes—codes that only she could decipher—codes that gave her hope when she felt she needed a helping hand. Scanning down the garbled collection of letters and numbers that more resembled car number plates than meaningful phrases, Yolanda put her forefinger on the one that read “IAWOL”. She closed her eyes, lifted her face to the heavens and took a deep breath of the room’s shivery air. Her heart ached but as a beam of moonlight caught her in silhouette, she repeated her decoded phrase over and over, “I am worthy of love. I am…”

Thou shalt go to the ball, my dear Cinderella.