“You are?” a few girls murmured with looks of disgust on their faces.
“For the sake of science,” I said. I also didn’t want to disappoint Ling. “Come on, when you’re all seniors, you’re gonna need volunteers for your projects.”
We got four other girls to agree after a lot of pleading. After the crowd scattered, Ling turned to me with a huge grin on her face. “Thanks for helping me out today, Penny. Once this whole thing is over, I promise I’ll come and watch you dance, okay?”
I smiled. Ling and I were going to be friends.
By that point, the library sounded even less appealing. I needed to dance. I would have to skip ballet the following day to do Ling’s experiment, so even though I’d told my dad and Professor Douglas I’d take it easy, I decided to go to the ballet studio anyway to get in some toe time.
Walking through the CSU parking lot toward my ’94 Honda Accord, the chill in the air was strong. I was moving fast on my numb, bruised feet.
The Honda was my dad’s old car he’d sworn would run for three hundred thousand miles. I pumped the gas as I turned the key over and over but there was nothing. “Dammit.” I hit the steering wheel and looked at the odometer. It only had a hundred and ten thousand miles.
Slouching in my seat, wondering what to do, I was startled by a rap on my window. I looked up to see Lance, a microbiology major who knew my dad.
“You flooded the engine,” he yelled.
I got out of the car. “My dad said I’d get three hundred thousand miles out of this piece of junk.”
“I can give you a ride home,” he offered.
“Um. Can you give me a ride to my dance studio? It’s about two miles away. My dad can pick me up after he gets off work.”
“Yeah, no problem. I totally dig your dad, by the way. His last lecture was amazing.” My dad was a frequent guest lecturer so all the microbio kids knew him.
“Yeah, he’s great.”
I locked up my car and got into Lance’s Toyota Corolla. The inside was pristine and smelled like coconuts. “Penny, have you ever swabbed your steering wheel?”
“Huh? No.” The stench from my dance bag was starting to overpower the coconut scent.
“When I knocked on your window, it looked like you had your mouth on the steering wheel.”
“What’s your point?” I’d only been resting my face on it, but he seemed grossed out. I wasn’t in the mood for his judgment.
“You should swab it and bring it into the lab. You’d be amazed by how much bacteria is on a steering wheel. It’s dirtier than a toilet seat.” I seriously doubted his claim, but whatever, he was the scientist.
“Interesting.” I pointed to the next stoplight. “Make a left up there.”
“So, what are your plans after graduation?” He was driving exactly the speed limit, which either meant he was trying to make the ride last as long as possible or he was an old man.
“I was thinking about opening a studio and teaching dance. How ’bout you? Do you have an internship lined up?”
“Definitely something in pharmaceuticals, but I was actually thinking about going into sales instead of research and development. More money, you know?” He turned toward me and wiggled his eyebrows. Lance was a dead ringer for Tobey Maguire. A lot of girls liked him. He was sweet and charming, confident but not arrogant. He would have been perfect boyfriend material—if I were looking.
“Well, you didn’t need all this schooling for pharma sales.”
He laughed. “It was in the contract. I had to go to college in order to collect a trust fund my grandmother had left me. I’ll be able to buy a house as soon as I graduate. But I’ll still need to work. And as much as your dad inspires me, and as much as I love the lab, I don’t want to do that every day, you know?”
“Yeah, I do know, actually. Oh, you just passed the driveway.”
“Whoops.” He did a very cautious U-turn and pulled into the parking lot.
Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I jumped out and turned to look at Lance through the open door. “Thanks a lot. This was really nice of you.”
He smiled and seemed to hesitate for a moment before continuing. “I know this might seem out of the blue, but do you want to go out sometime?”
“With you?” Oh man, why did I say that?
He huffed. “Yeah, with me.”
“Oh sorry. You just caught me off guard. Yeah, maybe. I just have to get through exams. Maybe during Thanksgiving break or something?”
“Okay, cool. Let’s keep in touch.”
“Sure. Do you want to exchange numbers?”
“Yeah, let me see your cell phone. I’ll put my number in it.”
Embarrassed, I said, “Oh, I don’t have one. You’ll have to call my house number. Here, give me yours and I’ll put it in.”
“You don’t have a cell phone?” He was shocked as he handed over his.
“I’m probably gonna get one for Christmas.”
“Oh. Okay. I’ll call your house then.”
“Cool, thanks again for the ride.”
The studio where I had practiced since I was a kid was starting to look run-down. It was in a small strip mall and the landlords hadn’t painted the exterior or trim in twenty years. It was brown and dingy, and several roof tiles were missing. Whenever it rained or snowed, which was a lot in the winter, there would be leaks, which damaged the hardwood dance floor. I wished Nancy, the owner, could get some help but she seemed so overwhelmed all the time.
I reached for the glass studio door but it wouldn’t budge. It was locked, though I could see Nancy inside at the front desk, talking to a man and a woman. She saw me, stood up, and came to let me in. “Sorry, Penny, just having a little meeting. Come in, come in.” I nodded at the man and woman as I headed for the locker room.
That day I practiced my grand jeté in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, a beautiful but difficult move in which the dancer leaps forward, legs turned out, hips squared, with the front leg pointed forward and the back leg turned upward. Everything has to come together; your shoulders have to be pulled back, your neck has to be long, and your arms, extended in clean, graceful lines. I leapt twice to get power and force off the ground. While I was in the air, Nancy walked the floor and yelled, “Extension, Penny!”
I hit the ground hard with a thud. Not very graceful.
“Again,” she said. “Again! Again!”
Each time it was getting better. I was feeling lighter and stronger and landing softer. My legs and feet were aching, but I wanted it to be perfect.
At the end of my practice, Nancy came up to me. “Great work today, Penny.”
“Thanks, Nance. See you next week.”
She smiled but said nothing.
4. Fourteen Years Ago
PENNY
At home that night I went down to our basement studio and practiced the grand jeté over and over. At some point my dad came in but I hadn’t noticed. The lights were dim and I was doing the jump with my eyes closed; I liked to practice that way to prepare for the effects of stage lighting. When I stopped the music, he was holding his hand to his cheek, sitting on the bottom stair. I couldn’t see his expression so I turned on the light. He was crying.
“Are you okay, Dad?”
“Ahh, I’m just old and emotional.”
“Tell me,” I said.
“You’re such a beautiful dancer. It takes my breath away.” He started tearing up again.
“God, you are getting old and mushy.” We both laughed. He used to be the funny guy, but he had been more sad than funny lately. “Is everything okay with you and Mom?”
He wiped tears from his face. “Why do you ask that?”
I gave him a look. “I don’t think you’re just crying in the dark because I’m a good dancer, Dad.”
“We’re fine, Sweet Pea. Marriages go through phases.”
“Dad, the pageant shit has to stop.”
“Penny,” he chided.
“I’m serious. She
’s gonna screw up Kiki.”
“It’s all she has right now,” he argued.
“No. She has you and she has me.”
He smiled weakly. “Go get some rest, Penny. You need to eat dinner and then soak your feet. They look terrible.”
“Dancer’s feet, Dad.”
“Yeah, yeah, but they’re my baby girl’s feet.”
THE NEXT DAY I headed to Ling’s study, my stomach tied in knots. Why had I agreed to do it? Lapse in sanity, I guess. But I had promised Ling, so after Professor Douglas’s dance class, I showered, dried my hair, brushed my teeth, and dabbed on a bit of lip gloss before heading to Clark. I was wearing jeans, my UGG slippers, and a hoodie from my old dance studio. It was a blind kiss, after all; it’s not like I had to impress anyone with my fashion choices.
Once I got there, I knocked on the classroom door. Ling answered without a word and ushered me in. There were four girls all chatting next to a table of juice and cookies.
“Go ahead and have a snack.” Ling leaned in and whispered near my ear. “I have a flask with rum in it, if you want.” Why did everyone in college drink rum? It has to be the most disgusting liquor. Also, Ling was more nervous than usual, which made me more nervous.
I smiled. “No, thank you. I’ll just wait.”
There was a connecting room with paper covering the window in the door. Ling spoke to someone on a walkie-talkie and said, “Okay, ladies, we’re gonna go in and show you the studio. The boys are waiting in another room on the other side of the studio.” She pointed to each girl in front of me and said, “You’re one, you’re two, you’re three, you’re four, and Penny, you’re five. That’s the order you’ll go in.”
“You’re not matching us up based on looks, are you?” one tiny blond girl with a pointy nose and pursed lips said.
Ling stared at her for an uncomfortably long time. “Are you serious, girl?” Ling was so awesome.
“Well?” Pointy Nose said.
“No, it’s totally random and looks are subjective. That’s the whole point!” Ling practically shouted at her.
We went into a large classroom where all the chairs had been pushed to one side to create a staging area. There were four students in the room: one guy behind a camera propped on a tripod that faced a small makeshift stage, another guy, and two girls standing near the stage with clipboards.
“Hi ladies, I’m Tracy. Ling and I are heading up this study.” Tracy was all business, complete with brown hair in a low bun and a pair of glasses on the end of her nose. I noticed the heater had been cranked up really high in the room.
I whispered to Ling, “It’s hot in here.”
“Just wait until people start making out.”
“No, seriously, I might puke.”
“That would be really gross, Penny. Please don’t do it on camera. When it’s cold, people’s nerves go haywire, so we’re trying to make everyone comfortable. Take off your sweatshirt if you have to.”
I only had a dancing tank on with no bra, not that I needed one. “Umm. Well, okay it’s not like he’s going to see me.”
“Exactly,” she said.
I tore off my sweatshirt and threw it on a nearby desk. The students showed us where we would be walking and standing, so once we were blindfolded we wouldn’t feel disoriented. Afterward, we were led back into the first room to wait.
Girl number one, a tall, gangly thing with mousy hair, wearing basketball shorts and a T-shirt, was called in first. We waited and waited and then finally Pointy Nose said, “Jesus, are they fucking in there?”
When the girl came out we all bombarded her with questions. She was quiet. She just said, “That was really weird. He was all right, I guess.”
“What took so long?” a girl dressed in a club outfit and stilettos asked.
“They ask a lot of questions when you’re blindfolded and then after . . . when you’re just staring at each other awkwardly.”
Girl number four, who looked like every other hoodie-clad college girl, stood up and said, “Fuck this, I’m outta here.”
“No, please,” Ling said as she came back into the room to usher in girl number two.
“I’m serious, I’m not doing it. Keep your stupid Java Hut gift card.” The girl stormed out.
Ling turned to me. “Well, Penny, I guess you’ll go fourth. I’ll tell guy number five he’s been cut.”
“Um, Ling—”
Ling pointed at me. “No, you’re doing it. I said I’d watch you dance. You’re doing it, Penny! And you’re going to win the award for best guinea pig at CSU.”
“Is that really a thing? I don’t think I want that.” What’d I get myself into? “Let me just take a breath.”
I opened the door that led to the hallway and saw girl number one pass by me. She waved to a guy coming out of the adjoining room on the other side of the studio area, and he waved back. I assume it was the guy she had just swapped spit with. He was not attractive at all. I felt bad for thinking it, but it was going to be hard for me to not picture that guy when it was my turn. He was at least four inches shorter than me, which made basketball-shorts girl easily a foot taller than him. He seemed nice but he had pretty bad skin and fairly greasy hair. He was definitely a freshman, if not a devious seventh grader who had found a way to sneak in.
When Ling came after me, I was scowling. She handed me the flask and I took a large, disgusting swig.
“They’re not all good-looking.” I cocked my head to the side. “Liar.”
“You might be off the hook,” she said.
“Thank you, God!” I shouted. Clubbing Girl and Pointy Nose turned and glared at me.
“Yeah, so it looks like we’re actually missing two guys, but we still need to give it a few more minutes.”
“I’m so happy to hear that. I can’t believe you told me they were all hot.”
“Honestly, I never even saw them. That was Tracy’s job, not mine, I just had to get the girls.”
“You are such a liar!” I poked her in the shoulder and glared at her.
“It’s just a kiss. Jeez, it’s not like we’re asking you to sleep with him.”
I dry heaved. “Have another swig.” She handed me the flask and some breath mints.
As the hour went on, the other girls cycled in and out like it was no big deal. I was gathering my things, getting ready to leave, when Ling walked in. “Not so fast. Your guy was late—that ass—but he’s here and they’re blindfolding him now.”
“Oh God, did you see him?”
“Just chill. The other girls handled it like pros. What’s your deal?”
“Those girls looked like pros.”
“Penny, shut up and turn around. Just let me blindfold you.”
“I hate this study so much. You have no idea. Did you see him? Why’d you call him an ass?”
“I didn’t see him but Tracy said he was bitching about only getting a ten-dollar Java Hut card.”
“Why is he only getting ten?”
“Because he said yes the second Tracy asked him to be in the study.” She huffed. “You should be happy. You’re getting forty dollars’ worth of coffee. It’s basically liquid gold during finals.”
She used a dark floral scarf as a blindfold and triple checked it to make sure I couldn’t see a thing.
“Take my arm, I’ll guide you,” she said.
I linked my arm through hers and followed her into the makeshift studio. “I’m nervous.”
“You’ll be fine. Okay, step up.” She led me to a spot on the small stage where I felt a pencil on the ground. “Keep one foot on that. That’s your mark. The guy will be here in a minute.”
I heard his voice first. It was deep but soft, grounded in his chest but not husky. “Wait, where the fuck am I? Oh shit.” When I heard him trip, I started laughing.
“Hey, woman, are you laughing already? I haven’t even kissed you yet.” Everything was black but for some reason his demeanor instantly put me at ease. I could feel him standing opposite me
now.
“Reach out and take each other’s hands,” said the guy behind the camera.
Ling guided our hands toward each other. His were warm and large; they swallowed mine up. “Tiny little hands,” he said.
“Ha!”
Ling started in. “Okay, we’re going to ask you a few questions and then ask you to kiss. You can take as long as you want. You don’t have to force yourselves to stop or continue, just let it happen organically.” I couldn’t imagine how that would be humanly possible.
He squeezed my hands in a way that was calming.
“So, girl number four,” Ling said, “are you nervous?”
“Uh, yes.”
“What about you, guy number four?”
“Not really.”
“Why did you agree to this?”
He spoke first, “Free coffee.”
“What about you?” Ling poked me in the shoulder.
“Um, yeah. The coffee, I guess.”
“So what do you think this experiment will give you? You go first.” She poked my arm again.
“Herpes simplex one.”
The guy chuckled. “No, I’m good,” he said.
“What about you?” Ling asked.
“I don’t know. An experience.” He didn’t seem nervous at all. “Like, what can you feel from just a kiss?” He ran his thumb over the center of my palm. It sent shivers down my spine. “Or by touch alone. I mean, I do wonder, you know . . . like, if it’s different, if I’ll feel nothing because I don’t know what she looks like.”
I huffed and tried to pull my hands away but he held them tight. “Where you going, lady?”
I didn’t respond.
Ling poked me again. “Tell him your name and what you like to do.”
“Penny. I’m a dancer.”
“Tiny little T. rex dancer.”
“You’re funny.”
“You smell good.”
“Stahhhp!” I was embarrassingly turned on by his little thumb strokes on my palm.
“Now you go, dude. Tell her,” Ling said.
“I’m Gavin, and uh . . . I don’t know, I like to play guitar and work on cars. I’m an engineering major.”
Blind Kiss Page 3
