Chapter 4
Friday Afternoon, January 7th
Vaughan walked down the hallway and headed toward the front door, his mind preoccupied with what had happened that morning. He was still upset that he had been late for class again. His father would definitely hear from the school this time, since he had already been late three times that year. Conversations with his father were already difficult, and having to discuss school issues with him would only make it worse. Vaughan hated that it had become so hard to talk to his father. He loved his father very much. But ever since his mother had died, a gulf had opened between them. He suspected that his mother had served as a buffer between them when she had been alive, but it hadn’t been obvious that this was the case until she was gone. His father was a true man in every sense of the word and Vaughan suspected that he had never been able to identify with his son’s interests, which weren’t manly in any sense of the word.
He opened the front door of the school building and walked out into the cold, tucking his hands in his pockets to keep them from freezing. He thought of the short car ride with his father to the dance studio with dread. It was almost the same feeling he felt whenever he ran into Leroy Wigen. He knew that it probably wasn’t fair to compare his father to the school bully, but the anxiety he felt when meeting either was so similar that he couldn’t help it. They both made him feel helpless, and he hated that feeling.
As if his thoughts had taken form, he looked up to see Leroy smiling at him from further down the walkway. He was surrounded by his group of goons, who all started chuckling in anticipation of the confrontation to come. They were like sharks in the water, circling some poor, helpless prey. And he was the prey.
Vaughan looked back through the glass doors and at the hallway beyond, hoping that a teacher would happen to be walking by. But there was no one who could save him.
“Vaughan!” a voice called to him.
He turned his head in surprise and saw Sarah running up behind him. He looked back at Leroy and saw him hesitate instantly. Everyone knew that Leroy had a huge crush on Sarah and she was often the only thing that saved Vaughan from having to endure his bullying.
“Wait for me,” Sarah said as she came through the front door. “Why are you standing here and…oh!” She noticed Leroy and his goons for the first time and her eyes narrowed as she shifted the straps on her backpack. “What are you looking at?” she asked Leroy.
“N-nothing. Hey Sarah,” Leroy responded, a crimson blush spreading across his face. A few of his friends chuckled under their breath, until an evil look from him silenced them.
Sarah pulled on Vaughan’s jacket sleeve and started to walk toward the parking lot. “Come on, Vaughan,” she said as she walked. “I know stupid’s not supposed to be contagious, but just in case…”
Vaughan looked at the faces of Leroy’s goons as he passed them and could see the identical looks of anger on all of them. He was so preoccupied by their expressions that he didn’t see the foot that had been stuck in his path by one of them. His right foot caught and his forward momentum carried him until both feet left the ground. He was airborne for just a moment before hitting the ground – hard. He felt the bite of his teeth on his tongue and the salty tang of blood in his mouth before he had a chance to process what had happened. A low moan of pain escaped his mouth as he turned his head to look behind him.
There was an obvious sign of worry on Sarah’s face and strangely, one of confusion on Leroy’s. Laughter erupted from the other boys and when Vaughan’s gaze landed on Emmitt Rhinelander, he knew who had tripped him. Emmitt was a vicious boy. He made Leroy seem like a harmless puppy by comparison, and was usually the one who took the group’s bullying to a physical level.
Emmitt looked down at him with an evil grin before saying, “I hope being a retard’s not contagious.” He looked at Sarah, who returned a murderous gaze, but said nothing. “He can dance around like a little fairy, but can’t even walk without falling.”
The goons chuckled as Vaughan pushed himself up on his hands, but as he did he felt something hit the back of his right forearm. He lost his balance and this time his face hit the pavement. Pain exploded behind his eyes and he cried out.
Emmitt’s voice carried down to Vaughan’s ears, though he spoke softly. “Stay down, dancer boy. I wouldn’t want you to hurt one of your little ballerina legs.”
Sarah screamed angrily and Vaughan turned his head enough to see her pull her backpack off and swat Emmitt in the shoulder with it. “Leave him alone, you stupid jerk!” He flinched in surprise at the force behind the blow, but wasn’t quick enough to dodge the second one, which hit him on the side of the face. The smug expression on Emmitt’s face turned to one of rage and when Sarah swung at him a third time, he grabbed the bag and used her momentum to pull her down into the snow along the side of the path.
Sarah grunted as she landed on her side, sending a small spray of snow at Vaughan’s face. He heard Leroy shout at Emmitt, but as Vaughan wiped the snow from his eyes, he could see that Emmitt was moving toward Sarah’s prone form.
“Hey!” Leroy shouted. “Let it go, Emmitt.”
Emmitt ignored Leroy as he reached for Sarah. Vaughan pushed himself to his feet and reached for Emmitt’s arm, pulling him back from Sarah, who had sat up in the snow. She stared up at Emmitt with fear in her eyes, and when Vaughan saw the rage in Emmitt’s face, he knew why she was afraid. Emmitt turned in surprise at the hand on his left arm and yanked it from Vaughan’s grasp. He turned to face Vaughan, his right hand raised in a fist. Vaughan knew that he was about to be punched in the face for the first time in his life.
But something happened as Emmitt’s fist flew at Vaughan’s face. The movement, which had seemed so quick just a moment before, suddenly slowed to the point that it almost looked like Emmitt was standing still. Vaughan looked at the frozen rage on Emmitt’s face as his fist slowly came at him. He moved to the side and watched as the fist moved by in slow motion. When he turned to look back at Emmitt, he saw him stumble past him as time seemed to speed up again. His motion carried him past Vaughan and nearly made him fall. Emmitt turned to look at Vaughan, confused and now even angrier. He quickly lifted his fist to throw another punch and it happened again. Everything slowed down.
Vaughan watched the slow progression of Emmitt’s fist and moved casually out of the way. But this time, he reached out and pushed on Emmitt’s forearm as it slowly moved by. As he shifted his attention from the lazily moving fist to Emmitt’s face, time sped up again. This time, the motion and Vaughan’s shove were too much for Emmitt. He flew sprawling onto the sidewalk, his cheek scraping the concrete as he fell. He laid there for a few seconds before turning his head in shock to stare at Vaughan. The anger and aggression that had filled his eyes a moment before were no longer there. They had been replaced by a look that Vaughan had never seen anyone’s face when looking at him. It was fear.
Leroy crouched down beside his friend as he stared wide-eyed at Vaughan. He pulled on Emmitt’s arm, helping him stand as the entire group of boys backed away.
“Is there a problem here, gentlemen?” a baritone voice asked.
Vaughan turned at the sound and saw Mr. McCallister, the seventh grade history teacher walking up to them. “I’m sure I don’t need to remind any of you that fighting is prohibited on campus and can get you expelled,” he said with a completely neutral expression. He looked at each of them in turn, including Sarah, looking for a response. He received only silence in return until finally Vaughan responded.
“Um, n-no sir,” he stammered. “Emmitt and I slipped on the ice,” he added. “That’s all.”
Emmitt looked at Vaughan, his eyes narrowed with suspicion, but said nothing. Mr. McCallister looked at each of them again before nodding. “Alright,” he said as he looked around at the teenagers. Finally, he looked at Vaughan, “Mr. Ambrose, I’d like to speak with you for a minute.” He looked at Ler
oy and his gang, making it perfectly clear what he expected them to do.
“Alone,” he added when they hadn’t moved.
The group moved toward the parking lot, none of them looking back for even a moment. Sarah moved off to the side, but waited for Vaughan.
“I know what happened, Vaughan,” Mr. McCallister said without preamble. “I saw everything from the door.”
Vaughan didn’t know how to respond, or even if he should. He prepared himself for the next bit of news that he was sure Mr. McCallister was going to give. He knew that it would involve some type of detention or other punishment and that his father would definitely find out. But what happened instead stunned him into further silence and made him look up to meet his teacher’s eyes in shock.
“I’m proud of you for fighting back, son.” Mr. McCallister looked at him, his steely grey eyes holding Vaughan, but revealing nothing other than what was said. “I haven’t seen anyone move like that since I was…well, it’s been a long time. Where did you learn to move like that?”
He waited for a response, but Vaughan still didn’t know how to respond. Finally, he said the only thing he could think of - the truth.
“I don’t know how I did it,” he finally replied. “I just saw where he was going to move and got out of the way.”
He knew it sounded lame and there was no way that Mr. McCallister was going to buy it. But he just nodded slowly before saying, “I suppose that’s as logical an explanation as any.” His gaze shifted as he looked over Vaughan’s shoulder and nodded his head in that direction. “It looks like your ride’s here, son.”
He didn’t say another word as he turned around and walked back into the building. Vaughan turned around and waved at his father as his car came to a stop. He turned back and stared at where Mr. McCallister had been. The exchange had been brief, but very odd, and Vaughan suddenly realized why. Mr. McCallister hadn’t seemed surprised by what he had seen or by Vaughan’s explanation. This was in stark contrast to the obvious surprise on the faces of Emmitt, Leroy and the others. He didn’t know what it meant, but thought that he had heard a note of approval in the older teacher’s voice.
Vaughan turned back around and walked over to Sarah, sure that she at least would have some questions for him. He opened his mouth to give her the same explanation, but as he moved next to her, she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.
“We can talk about it later,” she smiled and said. “I’m proud of you too, Vaughan.”
He could no more have responded to her than he could have to Mr. McCallister, so he just nodded dumbly and headed toward the car.
The final bell rang and Louis groaned. It was time to face the music, whatever music that was. He couldn’t remember what a funeral dirge was, though he remembered hearing the term before. He knew it couldn’t be happy and was probably the exact kind of music he was about to face. He thought briefly about trying to sneak past Mr. Holt’s desk, hoping that he would miss him in the rush of students as they left. But he knew that a mouse in an open field had a better chance of avoiding a hawk. He sighed dramatically, hoping that it would make him look brave if anyone was paying attention, before standing up and moving to the desk.
Mr. Holt looked up from the piece of paper in front of him as Louis walked up, but didn’t say a word until Louis stopped a foot in front of the desk.
“Do you know why I asked you to stay, Mr. Ambrose?” he asked, looking directly at Louis.
Louis nodded and mumbled, “For imitating you in class.”
Mr. Holt was quiet for a moment, as if he was considering what to say next. “Louis, have I done something to make you dislike me?” Louis looked up in surprise as he added, “I only ask because I want to be sure I haven’t done such a thing unintentionally. I know you have a reputation for being a class clown, but all of your previous teachers mentioned how respectful you were to them. I wanted to understand why I had earned the special treatment.” He smiled crookedly and pushed up his glasses, which had slipped down his nose.
Louis suddenly felt very crappy. Well, he felt worse than crappy, but he wasn’t allowed to use the word that described the way he felt. Mr. Holt wasn’t such a bad guy, as teachers went. He was a little nerdy, but he was always fair with his grades and treated the students well. He didn’t deserve to be the butt of Louis’ jokes. Lana Thompson was another story, though. She was a total pain and deserved it.
“No, Mr. Holt,” he answered, ashamed. “You didn’t do anything.” Louis actually felt tears welling in his eyes, but he pushed through it with only a slight break in his voice as he added, “I shouldn’t have imitated you and I promise I won’t ever do it again.”
Mr. Holt chuckled as he responded, “Well, let’s not be hasty. You’re quite good, actually. And I’d hate to see such talent go to waste.” Louis stared at him in shock as he added, “Just not in class, okay?”
Louis nodded dumbly, surprised by Mr. Holt’s reaction.
“All right then,” he said next. “You’d better head out of here. I’m sure your ride’s waiting for you outside.” He looked back down at the papers in front of him and picked up his pen.
“You mean you’re not going to give me detention?” Louis couldn’t believe that he would get off so easily and thought briefly that it might have been some sort of trap.
Mr. Holt looked back up at Louis and raised one eyebrow. “Do you want detention? If you insist, I’d be happy to oblige, but I believe we’ve come to an understanding. Don’t you?”
Louis stammered, “No, I mean yes. Um, no I don’t want detention, sir. And yes, we have an understanding. Sir.”
Mr. Holt smiled at him and nodded. “Good. Now you’d really better be leaving.” He nodded his head at the door. “Have a good evening, Mr. Ambrose.”
Louis walked to the door, still so confused that he almost forgot to add, “Um, you too, Mr. Holt. Thanks.”
As he walked to the front of the school, Louis wondered if Mr. Holt was really a lot cooler than he seemed.
Billie walked to the front of the school with Ms. Waverly and the other students in her class. Many of the students’ parents were already waiting and Ms. Waverly held the door open for the children as they walked past. As usual, Billie’s Uncle Harper was there waiting. He was never late. Billie ran through the open door and into her uncle’s open arms as he lifted her up in the air, spun and kissed her neck repeatedly, which made her laugh.
Billie looked over Uncle Harper’s shoulder at Ms. Waverly and saw her smiling the way she always did when she saw him. She almost looked like she was going to cry, but she was still smiling, so Billie knew it was the kind of crying that grownups did when they were happy. She didn’t understand why you would want to cry if you were happy, but she didn’t understand a lot of things that grownups did.
Uncle Harper waved at Ms. Waverly and then looked at Billie. “Where’s your brother?” he asked. “Is he in trouble again?”
Billie shrugged as she responded, “Probably. He’s always in trouble!”
Uncle Harper laughed and nodded, “You’re probably right. He seems to excel at finding trouble.” He looked at the front door of the school and added, “Speak of the devil.”
Billie turned her head as Uncle Harper put her down and she saw Louis walking over to where they stood, but he didn’t look at either of them. His head was down and he had the frown that appeared on his face whenever he was thinking about something. Billie thought he looked like he was in pain when he made that face, as if using his brain made him hurt. But Louis always made her laugh, so she was okay with him making any goofy face that he wanted.
“Trouble again, Louis?” Uncle Harper asked.
Louis looked up in surprise and then stared at Billie for a second, as if he hadn’t noticed that either of them was there.
He looked confused as he responded, “Sort of. I mean, I thought I was in trouble, but Mr. Holt let me go and just asked me
not to imitate him in class again.” His frown deepened as he added, “But the weird thing is he didn’t think I should stop imitating people totally, just not in class. He said that he didn’t want my talent to go to waste.”
Billie didn’t think Louis’ ability to imitate people was a talent. She just thought it was irritating, especially when he did it while they were watching TV.
Uncle Harper leaned down and put his hand on Louis’ shoulder. “Maybe Mr. Holt’s not such a bad guy, Louis. And maybe you should lay off of him and show him the same respect he’s shown you.”
Louis looked up and nodded, still frowning as he said, “That’s just what I was thinking, Uncle Harper.”
Uncle Harper laughed as he took Billie’s hand in his own and walked them to the car with Louis walking next to them.
Cole walked through the front door of the school, into the bitter cold and gray light of early twilight. The sun set so early in the winter that it was already low in the sky when school let out at three-thirty. The school building blocked most of the sun’s light from hitting the front lawn and walkways, casting the snow-covered ground in a half-light that would have made most people squint to see anything. But Cole could see perfectly in almost any light. Even the complete darkness that others had described to him was only a dimming of the midday light to his eyes. It had been this way since he could remember, but it was something he hadn’t mentioned to anyone. Being able to communicate with animals and see in the dark wasn’t likely to improve the social standing of someone who was already seen as a little odd.
As he walked, he thought of the brief exchange with Eliza earlier that day. She had seemed genuinely interested in his interaction with the stray dog and didn’t seem to think it was odd. If he hadn’t been so full of self-doubt, he would have thought that she might actually like him. But he dismissed that idea, especially when he thought of the fact that he hadn’t been able to make an intelligible response to anything she had said. He knew that he wouldn’t find someone like him interesting, so he couldn’t imagine why she would.
He sighed as he slowly walked down the pathway, looking for Dinah on the front lawn. The few students who were still in front of the school were getting in to cars, but Dinah was not among them. Cole stopped and waited and within a few minutes, he was alone outside. The wind blew cold air around him and an icy tendril managed to find its way under his jacket collar. It sent a shiver down his spine, even though he never minded the cold. He realized as a second shiver struck him that it hadn’t been the wind that had caused that reaction.
He felt like he was being watched.
Some hidden instinct told him that he was being watched from the trees to his left, so he turned his head and scanned the area leading to the wooded hill leading away from the school. Sitting in front of the trees and staring at him was something that at first resembled a large dog. At least, he thought it looked like a dog. As he focused on the creature, he thought that it more closely resembled a very large wolf, though something about it seemed…wrong for some reason. It looked muscular, more like the body of a bull than the sleek kind of body that wolves had. And although it was sitting, Cole swore that it looked like the muscular legs were not proportionate, as if its front legs were longer than its hind ones. They were more like arms then legs, suggesting that the creature could walk upright if it wanted to. And Cole suddenly realized that it wasn’t just big. It was huge. Cole estimated that its head would have easily reached his shoulders, and he was six feet tall. He was far enough away that he should have doubted his estimation of the creature’s size, but his eyes were very sharp and he had stood next to those same trees before and knew that he was right. A sudden sense of malice washed over him and he had no doubt of the direction from which it had come. Mixed with the malice was a wariness, but this was slight. Whatever the creature was, Cole was sure that it meant him harm.
He remembered that he was alone in front of the school and began walking backward toward the front door of the building. He watched the creature as he moved, but it stood completely still, other than its head, which slowly swiveled to watch him as he walked. He moved to the entryway of the building and ducked behind the wall, allowing only his head to stick out as he continued to watch it watching him. The feeling of malice was still washing over him, although it had lessened a bit with the small distance he had put between them. As he stared at the creature, it continued to stare back, no longer moving even its head. The brick of the wall between him and the creature felt solid and reassuring, but Cole still felt exposed.
He heard a sudden low growl to his right and nearly slammed the back of his head against the wall when he jumped in shock. Cole looked down, expecting to see another of the strange creatures standing there, ready to attack. Instead, he saw the same stray dog that he had fed earlier that day. He knew that it was the same dog, but it now looked transformed. Its lips curled back from its teeth in a terrifying snarl and the fur on its back was sticking up in a ridge along its spine. The shy, but sweet dog that he had met earlier now looked like a vicious attack dog. But it wasn’t growling at him. It was growling in the direction of the strange creature.
Cole looked back toward the trees, where the creature was now standing on all fours, staring back at him and the dog. The dog looked briefly over at Cole and whined softly before moving in front of him, standing between him and the creature. Its growls grew louder and it crouched slightly as if ready to leap forward. And then suddenly, the dog stopped growling. When Cole looked up again at where the creature had been, it was gone. Not only was it not standing where it had been just a moment before, but there was no sign of it anywhere. Cole searched the twilit hills and trees, but couldn’t see any sign of the creature anywhere. He acknowledged to himself that the creature could have moved back through the trees and Cole could have missed it, but he could see through to the back of the small, wooded area and beyond, and nothing there moved. The creature had simply disappeared.
A short bark drew his attention back to the dog, who now stared back at him with its head tilted. Cole kneeled down and held his hand out. “Thanks, girl,” he said softly as he smiled at her. “That was sweet of you to stick up for me like that.”
The dog looked back at him with her ears flattened against her head and slowly crept toward Cole. She moved close enough to allow his fingers to touch her muzzle before finally closing her eyes in contentment as Cole worked his fingers along her cheek and scratched behind her right ear. She moved in closer and Cole reached out with his other hand and massaged her shoulders and then along the muscles along either side of her spine. His face was mere inches from hers, but he was still surprised when she licked his cheek tentatively and just once.
He heard the footsteps from inside the building at the same time that she did. She turned and ran behind the building as Cole turned around to see Eliza push open the door. She stopped in surprise when she saw him standing there.
Eliza smiled at him as she asked, “Was that the same dog that I saw you with earlier today?”
Cole smiled back and nodded without responding. He could never think of anything to say around her, no matter how hard he tried. She was just so beautiful that he found himself speechless every time she was around.
She smiled at him for a few more seconds, as if she was waiting for Cole to say something, but he just smiled back like an idiot. Finally, she nodded slightly and said, “Well, my ride’s here. I’ll see you on Monday, Cole. Have a great weekend.”
Cole managed to force out a “You too, Eliza,” before she walked past him.
He watched her get into the car and swore softly in frustration as he punched the wall. The second time he swore was much louder when his fist erupted in pain. He looked at the brick in surprise as a piece of it crumbled from the wall and fell to the ground. He knew that he had punched the wall harder than he had intended, but he couldn’t believe that he had caused it to fracture. He lo
oked around to see if anyone else had seen him, but he was alone again. He told himself that the brick must have been cracked already and that he was lucky he hadn’t broken his hand. He shook his head and walked toward the parking lot. He should have been afraid to leave the safety of the building after his encounter with the strange creature, but he no longer felt the sense of malice that he had felt before. He stared at the trees again, but there was no sign of the creature or the stray dog.
Cole wondered briefly if he should mention the incident to his Uncle Harper, but decided that it would be better not to. Uncle Harper never seemed to judge anything that Cole told him, but he sensed that his uncle worried about him and his seeming lack of interest in making friends. Sharing the strange incident would have only added to the worry that his uncle already felt. He walked up to the curb to wait for Dinah and for his uncle, trying but failing to banish the image of the creature from his mind.
Dinah waited outside of Eduardo’s last class as the rest of the students streamed through the hallway and toward the front door. They always waited for each other, whoever got out first waiting by the other’s last class. But today, Dinah had an additional reason for waiting. Time was running out for Eduardo to ask her to the dance and she had decided that she was going to bite the bullet and ask him herself. She wasn’t exactly the shy type, so she didn’t have a problem asking him. She had just wanted to give him the opportunity to do the asking, since it was typically the thing for guys to do. She only wanted to go with him and had already refused at least six requests from other boys in their class. If she didn’t take the bull by the horns, she knew she would be going to the dance by herself.
Eduardo walked out of class and smiled when he saw her. “Why do we need to learn calculus, again?” he asked. “If I didn’t have to take it to get into the schools I want, I swear I’d take gym instead.”
Dinah chuckled at his lame joke. He was one of the best students in their school, but he had zero athletic ability. “Stick to calculus,” she told him with a grin.
His mouth opened in a look of feigned hurt as he held the front door for her. She walked through, smiling at his chivalrous gesture. He always did things like that and she knew that she had his mother and grandmother to thank for his manners. His mother worked in the same office as Dinah’s father and she was a kind woman, always smiling whenever Dinah saw her. She was also very attractive in an obviously feminine way, something Dinah wished she could say about herself. She knew that boys found her attractive, and she liked being athletic. But sometimes she wished she didn’t have such a muscular build.
Dinah saw Eduardo open his mouth out of the corner of her eye, and she looked over expectantly, hoping that this was the moment she had been waiting for. He held it open for a moment before closing it again and frowning. “Um, are you going out for track again this year?” he finally asked.
Dinah barely managed to stifle a sigh of frustration at the change in subject to an obvious question. She went out for track every year and was arguably the best member of the team, boy or girl. “Sure. I mean, yes, I am,” she answered. She opened her mouth to finally ask him, but he interrupted her by putting his hand on her arm and stopping her.
He looked at her and she stared into his beautiful light brown eyes. She was reminded yet again of how very handsome he was, though he didn’t know it. “I need to ask you something, Dinah,” he said to her.
She nodded, unable to respond.
He opened his mouth and she heard her name said with another person’s voice. She frowned in confusion before recognizing the voice. It was Cole.
“Hey guys,” he said as he walked up to them.
Eduardo smiled at Cole as he walked up. “Hey, Cole,” he said to Dinah’s brother. “What’s up?” He glanced over at Dinah briefly before looking back at Cole.
Dinah couldn’t suppress the sigh this time as her brother started relaying some ridiculous story about a stray dog in front of the school during lunch. She knew that Eduardo had been about to finally ask her and her sweet, but socially clueless brother had ruined it. She held onto hope for a minute that Cole would stop talking and then she could ask Eduardo with her brother standing there. But her hopes were dashed when Mrs. Ramirez, Eduardo’s grandmother, pulled up to the front of the school in her sedan.
Cole managed to wrap up his story when he noticed the car pull up and Eduardo looked at Dinah one last time before saying good-bye and walking over to the parking lot. Cole and Dinah both waved at his grandmother as he got into her car and Dinah saw Mrs. Ramirez smile and wave back.
“Hey, did he ever ask you to the dance?” Cole asked, watching as the car pulled away. Dinah thought that he seemed rather chatty, which was unusual for Cole. It was almost as if he was nervous about something.
She smiled at her brother before responding, “No, doofus. He was about to ask me when you walked up to share that riveting Dr. Doolittle story.”
Cole looked sheepish as he said, “Oh! Sorry, Dinah.” He seemed genuinely sorry and Dinah’s frustration dissipated. “If it’s any consolation, Eliza spoke to me twice today and I barely managed two words in response. I think I might have actually grunted at her in response.” He shook his head in obvious chagrin.
Dinah laughed and put her arm around him as they walked toward the parking lot. “Don’t worry about it, Cole,” she said to him. “And don’t beat yourself up about Eliza. Girls don’t talk to boys if they’re not interested.”
He smiled back at her as she saw Uncle Harper’s minivan pull into the parking lot. She wished her brother had more confidence, but she didn’t know how to help him get it. There was something she could fix, though. She was done waiting for Eduardo to ask her to the dance. She would ask him first thing Monday morning whether he liked it or not.
Jerry watched Vaughan walk up to the car and could sense his reluctance as he climbed into the front seat. He thought again of how awkward his relationship with his middle child had become and tried to put on the most genuine smile he could.
“Hey, son. How was school?” he asked as Vaughan buckled his seat belt. He tried to make his voice sound as light as possible, but knew that it only sounded disingenuous.
“Good,” Vaughan answered softly as he stared through the windshield.
Jerry hoped that he was going to elaborate, but Vaughan didn’t say anything else. He managed to avoid sighing in frustration as he put the car into drive and pulled out of the school parking lot. They drove in silence for fifteen minutes until they reached the dance studio in the strip mall near the interstate. As he parked the car and reached to open the door, Jerry sighed in preparation for having to watch his son dance. It was something that was always difficult for him to do. He wished again that Vaughan would take up some other activity, but he was certain that suggesting such a thing would have only widened the gulf that already lay between them. He and his son walked over to the front door of the studio and Jerry opened the door. He held it open for Vaughan and followed him inside.
One of Vaughan’s dance coaches, Mrs. Thompson, greeted them both as they walked in to the small reception room. They walked through another door and entered the studio itself and saw that class was about to start. Mirrors lined three of the walls and a row of chairs was set up against the fourth wall, where several parents were already sitting. Jerry waved hello to the parents he recognized before taking one of the empty seats. He watched his son drop his bag in one of the corners and start to stretch with the other students. He was the youngest member of the advanced class and it showed when his slight frame stood next to the other boys in the class. Each of them stood at least six inches taller than him and had muscled frames that contrasted sharply with Vaughan’s. Jerry was surprised at the fact that there were nearly as many boys as girls in the class. He didn’t realize that dance had become so popular with boys. It definitely hadn’t been the case when he was Vaughan’s age. He watched all of t
he boys moving with the unconscious grace that truly skilled dancers possessed. The girls seemed to possess even more grace than the boys, but as he watched his son starting to move in some warm-up dances, he thought that his movements were just as arresting as theirs, if not more so. The only difference was that there was a kind of strength in Vaughan’s movements that the girls didn’t have. It made him stick out in such a way that everyone – including the other parents couldn’t help but stare.
He briefly made eye contact with Vaughan but looked away just as a hesitant smile had begun to cross his son’s face. He felt uncomfortable in the small room, watching something he admired, but didn’t understand. Again, he wished his son would find another interest and wished that there was some way that he could tell him this without hurting him.
Vaughan saw the look on his father’s face as he turned his head to look at an empty corner of the room. He stopped his warm-up dance for a second as a pang of hurt and anger hit him. It was always the same whenever Vaughan danced in front of him. He would turn away and a look that Vaughan could only guess was frustration would cross his face. Although truthfully it was more appropriate to say that the looks had only started since his mother had died.
His mother used to love to sing and dance with all of her children, but she especially loved to dance with Vaughan. It was the one thing more than any other that he and his mother had in common. She had been a teacher at his dance studio until shortly before she became ill and had taught many of the students there for nearly fifteen years. She had been loved by everyone and he still overheard some of his fellow dancers speak of her occasionally, though they would always stop speaking when they saw him.
He was able to hear things that most people couldn’t, but he had never told anyone. Sometimes he heard things when he was out in public that he knew were deeply held secrets by the people speaking. And he was embarrassed by the fact that he could hear them, so he tried not to listen. But it was sort of like when a song kept playing in your head and no matter how hard you tried to stop thinking about it, it just kept playing. It was the same way with his hearing. If he tried not to listen to what people were saying quietly around him, he only heard them more clearly. He had thought about telling Dinah about it on several occasions. Dinah was easy to talk to and never seemed to judge anything that Vaughan said. But Vaughan had never told her anything so strange and he worried that even his normally-unfazed older sister would have no choice but think he was some sort of freak if he told her that he possessed super-human hearing.
He finished his stretching routine just as his dance teacher, Mr. Collins walked to the front of the group. Vaughan thought it was funny that he made his students call him Mr. Collins, since he was barely into his twenties. He had been a student of Vaughan’s mother and had taken over her duties when she could no longer teach. Vaughan liked him, but hated when he tried to force the students to show him respect. He didn’t realize that he already had it.
“Vaughan, will you get us started with the routine we worked on?” Mr. Collins held his hand out toward the middle of the floor.
Vaughan nodded and then walked over to the center of the room before assuming his starting position. He was normally a painfully shy person and even the thought of any type of public speaking would make his heart race and his palms begin to sweat. But he never felt that way when he was dancing. He had never told anyone but Sarah how he felt when he danced – that it was like no one else was there, unless they were dancing with him. He would go into a sort of trance where no one else around him existed and only the music and his movements to its rhythmic beats mattered.
The music started and Vaughan’s movements matched its slow, easy pace. There were no words to the score that was playing, but the dance that he moved through, that he had choreographed himself, represented the words and feelings that the music evoked in his mind. He knew that all of the eyes in the room were on him, but he didn’t care. They would all tell him later how amazing his dancing was, how it had touched each of them in different and unique ways. But none of that mattered. He appreciated the compliments, but it wasn’t why he danced. He danced because it was the only time that he felt completely comfortable in his skin. It was something that he wasn’t just good at. It was something he was great at.
The tempo of the music began to climb and his movements became stronger and more forceful. As it built to a crescendo, he began to use the entire dance floor as he spun and leapt to its now-frenzied pace. Just before the final climax of the score, he crouched to the floor and quickly curled into a ball. He held that pose for a second as the music paused, and he could feel the silence of the people around him. Everyone held their breath and leaned forward as they waited for what would happen next.
The music soared in a leaping bar as a multitude of instruments joined together in a complex harmony, and Vaughan leaped from his crouched position, his body opening as his arms and legs stretched to their limits and he soared across the floor. His head nearly brushed the fifteen-foot ceiling as his jump hit its apex before he landed lightly on the other side of the studio.
The music slowed suddenly to a more relaxed pace for the last few bars of the piece and Vaughan slowed to a final stop as it ended, his breath coming in great heaving gasps. As he stopped moving he heard the collective sigh as the room full of people released their breath. And then he saw movement near the door to the lobby.
His father rushed from the room with his head down and the door slammed loudly behind him. Vaughan was able to brush back the sudden tears of his frustration and shame by mixing them with the sweat that had formed on his forehead. No one seemed to notice his father’s departure or Vaughan’s reaction as the room erupted into applause and cheers. He smiled back at them as he bowed and thanked them, but he didn’t really hear any of it.
He hoped that no one could tell that the drops that fell to the floor as he bowed were made of more than just sweat.
The Ambrose Beacon Page 5
