Xavier's Dance

This story is based on a certain genre of music, and a name. Our assignment was to create a story inspired from the music, but it had to include a specific name. In this case, the genre was R&B (but it sounded more like Funk to me) and the name was Xavier. Yes, the name doesn’t fit the music, but that’s kind of the point. I hope you like it.

                Xavier was bringing the 70’s back. As he looked in the mirror, he admired how nicely his fro was growing out. Granted, it was a Jew-fro, but a fro nonetheless. And his outfit—wow. Just wow, was all he could think. He was wearing nearly every color imaginable, and one would not be wrong to call him a walking, talking rainbow. With one last comb through and a glance at his reflection, Xavier was out the door and walking down the street. Bobbing his head slightly, he thought he was the coolest cat in town, and would definitely be the coolest one at his school’s 70’s themed dance.

                Ten minutes passed, and on Xavier walked. He was not going to miss this dance for anything, even though the school was two miles away. As he passed people on the street, he got a couple of double-takes, for his attire was out of its time.

                With all this mindless walking, Xavier’s mind soon drifted to the memory of his first dance. Or almost dance, he corrected. He was ten years old, and he was so excited he could barely handle it. He wanted to be at that dance. Now. But his mom was being as overbearing and demanding as she knew how. As he grew older, Xavier realized that she was just overreacting to his growing up—it was his first dance, after all. However, he did not understand that at the time. All he could think about was being at that dance, with his friends, but most of all, he just wanted to dance. He loved to dance.

                “Just come sit down and eat dinner!” his mom yelled up the stairs.

                “Fine!” Xavier replied, with as much angst and resentment as he could muster in his ten year old self.

                He stomped down the stairs and glumly took his seat at the table. His mom then placed a plate of food in front of him. The smell of lightly roasted chicken and hot, buttery green beans wafted up to his nose, and Xavier decided that he would eat his dinner, but eat it quickly, so he could get to the dance as soon as possible.

In three minutes, his plate was clean. However, his mother made him sit there until she finished her meal. Xavier was bursting with anger—why couldn’t she just let him go to the dance?! He could even walk there—it was only half a mile away, and he was ten years old, not a baby.

“Come on, Mom!” Xavier nearly shouted, about to jump out of his chair.

“Just give me a moment,” his mother replied.

A few minutes passed, yet his mother still had not finished. Xavier was out of patience.

“Fine!” he yelled. “I’ll just go myself!”

“No you will not! Now go to your room and stay there. There will be no dance for you tonight.”

After stomping loudly up the stairs and slamming his door as hard as he could, Xavier lay on his bed, exhausted and dejected. Although he didn’t want to, he soon fell asleep, dreaming that all his friends had fun at the dance; they even forgot he was supposed to be coming! Xavier glumly woke up the next morning, and decided that he would never speak to his mother again. But that didn’t last long.

Suddenly coming out of his reverie, Xavier realized he was just one block away from school. He vowed that this night would be much better than the one permanently engrained in his memory. He would have fun.

And with that, Xavier walked through the school’s doors, ready to have the best night of his life.