Free Falling For Sakura: A Secret Proposal (Part 1) by Alexia Praks Page B

and smiled at Sakura, her eyes twinkling with delight. “Well, I for once am quite glad you’re going to be the finale. Oba-chan would be very pleased indeed you’re the one wearing her necklace,” she said.  
    Sakura blinked. “Huh? What? Finale?”  
    Lisa, the stylist, reappeared. “Quick!” she muttered, her face red from running and ordering people around. “We’re on in twelve minutes and you need your mask. And where the hell is that precious necklace?” she shouted to someone behind her.  
    “I’m Akira, by the way,” the Japanese woman said. “And you are Sakura, yes?”  
    Sakura nodded, and before she could say anything further, Lisa twisted her around and made her sit in the make-up chair again. “Mask! Mask! Now!” she shouted.  
    Sakura watched as a beautifully designed mask of white, pink, and gold with cherry blossom flowers appeared before her. Then a make-up artist arranged it on her face so that it sat comfortably on her. A moment later, they moved back and Sakura blinked. The shape of the mask was like that of the phantom of the opera with one fourth of her face covered. She couldn’t recognize herself. She wasn’t her anymore.  
    Akira chuckled. “Amazing, yes?”  
    Sakura nodded, lost for words.  
    “Where the hell is that stupid necklace!” Lisa shouted again.  
    Akira said as another make-up artist also placed a mask on her pretty face, “I don’t think you should call that precious necklace stupid, Lisa. It is, after all, worth at least two million.”  
    Sakura gasped and shot up. “Two million?” she shouted out in surprise. “Two million?”  
    “Hai,” Akira said, smiling, mask neatly in place. “You are the finale, after all. And besides, you shouldn’t be too surprised. Your gown is worth at least five hundred thousand, what with those beads of pink diamond and all.”  
    Sakura could only stand there and stare at Akira, her eyes wide open in shock. Then the expensive necklace appeared, securely placed in a locked velvet box.  
    Sakura watched, dazed, as the intricately designed necklace of pink diamonds was placed around her neck.  
    Oh no! She shouldn’t be wearing this. Not her. Not Sakura. What if she lost it? What if she damaged it?  
    “You’re ready,” Lisa said. “Now then, off you all go. We’re on in ten minutes.”  
    Suddenly, Sakura found herself being ushered toward the stage. No. No. No.  
    “Why are you so nervous?” Akira asked.  
    “I’ve never done this before,” Sakura said breathlessly.  
    “Oh.” But instead of sympathizing with Sakura, she laughed again with that beautiful rich voice of hers. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. Look, all you have to do is to not pay attention to the audience. Just listen to the music and walk. That’s all you have to do. Walk. In your mind, just imagine you’re somewhere else. Anywhere else but here.”  
    “Does that really help?” Sakura asked, curious.  
    Akira nodded. “It helped me.”  
    Sakura wasn’t so sure that this would help her, but she was willing to give anything a try. Then she thought about Jane. Where the heck was Jane?  
    Sakura was praying very hard Jane would miraculously appear and sort out this mess when she heard a commotion on the other side. She looked up to see the famous Japanese designer Mr. Tachibana coming toward them, his long hair—dyed bleach blond—flying and his long white robe fluttering about him. Beside him was the woman Sakura had been waiting eagerly to meet in person, the woman who had given birth to her twenty-five years ago, Haruka Tanaka, also known simply as Ms. Ruka. She was tall, Sakura realized, with strong, angular face, and thin nose that sat nicely on her face. She was very beautiful.  
    “What?” Mr. Tachibana shouted at Chris Williams. “Sakura isn’t here yet? And you didn’t tell me this until now? When we only have ten minutes until show time?”  
    Sakura licked her lips, her stomach flipping in dread