The Last Dance

by Kiki Hamilton

  His sun-streaked brown hair was swept across his forehead and the ends flipped out in cute little waves. The way his head was tilted I could see his Adam’s apple and the defined line of his jaw. He was very handsome. But his cheekbones stuck out like he’d been sick for too long and now that he was relaxed I could see the dark shadows under his eyes and the lines of exhaustion that aged him behind his seventeen years. An unfamiliar twinge went through my chest.

  My fingers rippled over the keys and I was surprised at the song that I’d chosen. It was my favorite and not one that I had shared with anyone—even Mira. It was a song I had written. But Q would never know the truth. The melody was sad and sweet and hauntingly beautiful in its simplicity. The song filled a place inside me that I didn’t like to acknowledge—an empty place where I hid the things that I longed for. Like true love.

  I knew this song well and the notes came to my fingers easily. The music filled the small room and my gaze shifted over to Q again as if I had no control over my eyes. Curiosity killed the cat, I warned myself, but his eyes were closed—he’d never know I was looking at him.

  He was wearing a sky blue shirt that made him look tan and healthy. Mira was right. He was gorgeous. Sitting there now, he could be one of those too-beautiful-to-be-true half-naked models they featured in clothing ads for teenagers—except he had a shirt on. But I could tell the chest under that shirt could hold its own with any of those models.

  His short sleeves revealed arms that were layered with muscles, even when he was relaxed, but not in a bulky, bodybuilder kind of way. More in a sleek, gazelle-like sort of way. His left hand was resting on his thigh and I was surprised at how beautiful it was, long and slender, with fingers like an artist. He had the hands of pianist. The thought surprised me and annoyed me at the same time. Whatever. Q was a jock and that was the end of that story.

  Against my will, my gaze moved to his right hand. It was curled in toward his body, bent tightly at the wrist, the fingers tucked into his palm. The position was in stark contrast to his other hand, with fingers splayed comfortably against his leg. It was as if his body had been divided in half.

  When he was relaxed like this, his mouth looked normal, but I’d seen how one side twisted in a weird way when he smiled. Not that he smiled much, but today when he’d blurted out ‘plumeria’ like he was a contestant on a game show or something, I’d seen him smile before he caught himself. One side of his face had this crazy-cute dimple—

  “Ivy.”

  I jumped in surprise, my fingers faltering on the keys. My cheeks instantly began burning. I jerked around to see who had caught me. I mean called me.

  “I knew that had to be you playing.” Brandon smiled as he approached from behind. “Nobody can play the piano as well as you.” There was true appreciation in his voice as he rolled his black upright cello bag before him. The chair that Q was sitting in was tucked behind a pillar and I caught the surprise on Brandon’s face when he spied Q sitting there. “Oh, sorry. I thought you were alone.”

  “Oh no, it’s—uh—” I looked over at Q, suddenly unsure of how to explain the situation. “You know Kellen Peterson, right?” I pointed at Q and then back at Brandon. “And Brandon Chang?” Inside I was dying of awkwardness. Brandon and I were going on a date tonight. Our first date. And it looked like I was sitting here playing a serenade for another boy. What must Brandon think?

  “Hey.” Q sat up and sort of waved his left hand at Brandon.

  Brandon looked as uncomfortable as I felt. “Hey.”

  There was a long silence. Then Q and I started talking at the same time.

  “I’m helping—”

  “Ivy’s my—”

  We both stopped and looked at each other. Something flickered in Q’s eyes. Almost like he was laughing on the inside. Now I was sure my cheeks were flaming.

  “Ivy’s my tutor.” Q smiled that half-smile, where the dimple winked in his cheek like he was telling a secret joke. “I’m learning how to play the piano.”

  “Oh.” Brandon kind of laughed and looked at me for confirmation, not sure if the star quarterback of our football team was being sarcastic or not. I gave a mouse-squeak nod. “Okay, well—” now Brandon sort of waved at me. ‘Awkward, awkward, awkward’ reverberated through my brain. “I needed my cello for this weekend so just came in to grab it.” He glanced from me to Kellen and back again. “Right, then.” He started to back away. “Ivy, I’ll see you about—uh—six?”

  “Sure,” I nodded, just wishing he’d leave. “That’d be great.”

  “Okay, then. Bye.” He jerked his head at Q and left, pushing his cello bag out of the small room.

  “Boyfriend, huh?” Q was sitting up in his chair. He had the strangest look on his face, like he’d never seen me before.

  I pressed my lips together and jumped up from the piano bench. “No. We’re just going to the movies.”

  “You’re skipping the game?”

  “What game? Oh.” I’d forgotten the football team had a home game tonight. I shrugged and gave him a feeble smile. “Yeah, I guess so.” I motioned at the piano keys, feeling like I should apologize for some stupid reason. “Okay, do you want to try?”

  Q pushed himself out of the chair to stand towering next to me. “Nope. I’m done for today. Coach wants me to suit up for the game so my physical therapist said I could come in early.” He grabbed his backpack with his left hand and slung it over his good shoulder. “Thanks, Ivy. Have a good weekend.” Then he limped-walked out the door without looking back.

  BRANDON ARRIVED RIGHT at the dot of six to pick me up. I wondered if I’d be nervous about actually going on a ‘date’ with him but as soon as I saw him I wasn’t. It was the same old Brandon I’d grown up with. Just a lot cuter now.

  My mom and his mom were good friends. My mom always commented about ‘what a nice boy that Brandon is’ whenever she saw him. I’d kind of got the feeling that she wanted to do a little match-making with us, but now that we were actually going on a date, she’d warned me just before he came about not losing my focus.

  “Okay Ma.” I rolled my eyes. “Just going to the movies. I’ll try to stay focused though.”

  “Don’t be flippant with me, Ivy. I’m just thinking about your future. It’s only a few months before you head off to college. You don’t need any distractions right now.” Just then the doorbell rang. Thankfully.

  “Hello Brandon.” My mom was all smiles. “Congratulations on making first chair in the youth symphony…

  Blah blah blah. I grabbed Brandon’s arm. “C’mon. We’re going to be late.”

  “What?” He frowned at me, clearly confused. “The movie doesn’t start until…” He saw the look on my face. “Oh…right…nice to see you, Mrs. Ly.” He nodded at her as I tugged him out the door.

  He surprised me by opening the door of his blue Honda Accord for me. He jogged around the front of the car and climbed in the driver’s seat. “Too much motherly advice?”

  “Waaayyy too much.”

  IT WAS FUN to be with Brandon. We’d known each other for so long, attending school, musical events and science fairs together as kids, that it was easy to hang out. I wasn’t sure if he’d be weirded out about me tutoring Kellen Peterson but he didn’t even bring it up. Maybe he thought I was sworn to a code of silence or something, like I’d joined the Jocks-Are-Always-Cool club. But I was happy to let the sleeping dog lie and forget about Q for a few hours.

  Really.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kellen

  Carter threw a thirty-two yard touchdown in the fourth quarter to win the game. Instead of embracing his teammates, he showboated instead. He ran to the sidelines and kissed the prettiest cheerleader. Who happened to be Laurel.

  “Dude,” CJ said in a tone of utter disgust as we both watched the spectacle, “you should thank Josh for taking that skank off your hands.” Of course, Laurel, being Laurel, gave it her all. By the time they were done the crowd didn’t know if they were cheering for a
football score or for the football player to score. “You’re lucky to be rid of her.” CJ slapped me on the back and made me turn away, but I’d seen enough to make my guts grind.

  “Yeah, whatever,” I muttered as Coach yelled for Carter to get back to the bench.

  CJ AND OLLIE wanted me to hang out with a few of the guys after the game, but I begged off, saying I was too tired. All I wanted to do was get home and hide in my room. It had been painful to be suited up for the game but incapable of playing. Like being in one of those nightmares you couldn’t quite wake up from. Maybe if I played World of Warcraft for awhile I’d feel better. Except, oh yeah, playing one-handed didn’t work so well.

  THE ONLY REASON I left the house over the weekend was to go to my physical therapy sessions. If there was any improvement on my right side it was so miniscule it was immeasurable.

  “It’s not going to happen overnight, Kellen.” Michael, my PT, was a very matter-of-fact kind of guy. He wasn’t big, but he was strong and definitely in shape. Plus, the dude knew how to inflict pain. That in itself demanded some respect. “It’s just been over a month since the accident. But you’re young and strong, if you work as hard at this as you do at football, you’ll get it all back and more.”

  I nodded but I didn’t believe him. There was no way I’d ever be back to the level I’d been. I was damaged goods.

  AS MUCH AS I prayed for time to stop and Monday to never arrive, it rolled around with annoying regularity. Ivy was already seated when I got to Calculus, just seconds before the tardy bell rang.

  “Hey.” I dropped my backpack on the floor and crammed myself into the standard issue school desk / chair combo that was definitely not made for football players. Or even has-been football players.

  “Hi.” Ivy actually looked me in the eye and smiled. She had very pretty eyes – all dark and shiny. She must have had more fun at the movies than I did at the football game.

  And that was the high point of class because right after that we were handed back our quizzes from Friday. A big red D stared up at me from the top of the page. I’d never gotten a D on anything in my life.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ivy look at the page then turn quickly toward the front of the class. I debated about tearing the paper to shreds or wadding it in a ball. I opted for the wadding and made a nice left-handed throw into the waste basket. Then I crossed my arms, pulled up my hoodie and slid down in my chair. My life sucked.

  SIXTH PERIOD FINALLY arrived. It was almost the end of the day and I could escape. Ivy and I were sitting at one of the long tables at the far end of study hall. It was our own little corner and people had learned to leave us alone. I always sat with my back to the room so I wouldn’t see the curious glances directed at me like pokes in the ribs.

  I blinked in surprise when Ivy pulled out my wadded up Calculus assignment and spread out the creases. “Let’s take a look at this and figure out where you got messed up. It’s probably just a few simple mistakes.” Her tone was straight-forward, reminding me of my mom. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel embarrassed about her knowing I got a D. Before, I would have been mortified. For some reason I was more embarrassed about throwing the page in the garbage. Go figure.

  “Okay, Ivy Ly, Girl Genius, let’s take a look.” I was teasing her but her eyes jerked up to mine with a look of alarm. Geez, was I that bad to be around?

  She gave me a nervous laugh and pulled my heavy Calculus book closer. “Also, a friend of mine is going to study with us today, okay?”

  She was concentrating on flipping through the pages to find the assignment, avoiding my eyes. I frowned. “Who?”

  “Her name’s Mira.” Ivy turned a page without looking up. “Don’t worry,” she said in a rush, “you’ll like her.”

  I didn’t really care if I liked her or not, but what I did care about was for somebody else to see how much trouble I was having understanding and remembering my homework. Ivy was bad enough, but now her friend? I was just about to say not a good idea when Ivy lifted her head and waved at somebody.

  “There she is now.”

  I didn’t even have a chance to turn around.

  “Hi guys,” a perky voiced chirped. The new girl stopped at the end of the table, her books clutched to her chest and a big smile on her face. She looked from Ivy to me then back again. I’m pretty sure she was bouncing in place. “Can I sit with you?”

  The new girl’s light blond hair was pulled to each side of her head in two long ponytails, and pointy bangs hung down over her eyes. She sort of reminded me of a cartoon character, although it was Halloween and a few kids were dressed up at school. Maybe she was, too. A section in the middle of her hair was colored turquoise – the same color as the fingerless gloves she wore. I narrowed my eyes to get a better look. Who wore fingerless gloves?

  “Sure, sit down,” Ivy said, with more enthusiasm than I’d heard from her before. She scooted over so the new girl could pull a chair up next to her.

  “Hi, I’m Mira.” Big turquoise eyes that matched her hair—seriously, she must have been wearing colored contacts—peered at me. She held out a fingerless-gloved hand.

  Shit. Hadn’t she heard I was a cripple now? I couldn’t extend my right arm very easily so I debated about ignoring her outstretched hand, then I thought, oh screw it. She was odd but she seemed harmless. I stuck my left hand out to grasp her fingers in an awkward backwards sort of handshake. “Yeah. I’m Kellen.”

  “I know.” She giggled. “I’ve had a huge crush on you since last year.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ivy

  Who would’ve thought that after only one miserable week I would be worried about re-inflating Q’s supersized ego? But it was obvious the guy was struggling. Seriously struggling. I’d seen the look on his face when Laurel Simmons delivered the note to our classroom that day. ‘Lovesick’ was the only word I could think of to describe his expression. Even though he put on a brave face and tried to hide it.

  When I brought up Mira joining us, I could tell he wasn’t happy at the idea of somebody else spending time with him in study hall—but on the other hand, he wasn’t happy about me spending time with him in study hall, so what difference would one more annoying person make? Besides, maybe Mira’s obsessive fandom would help him. Not to mention that maybe she’d stop asking me about him All. The. Time.

  I PRACTICALLY SPIT mocha out my nose at the dumbfounded look on Q’s face when Mira told him she’d had a crush on him for a year. The last week of misery was worth it for that one moment. Priceless.

  “Now Mira,” I said patiently, trying not to laugh out loud, “go ahead and tell Q how you really feel. Don’t hold back.”

  Mira was so happy it wouldn’t have surprised me to see little rainbows floating above her head. She just stared at Q adoringly. It was probably a little scary for him, actually.

  “Q?”

  His one word question brought every happy thought in my head to a crashing halt. It was like a needle scratching the record to a stop.

  “Huh?” I said, my damn cheeks starting to heat up. I did NOT just call him Q to his face.

  “Did you just call me ‘Q’?” Kellen’s gaze was alarmingly direct, those crazy blue eyes of his suddenly boring into mine. I wanted to shout ‘curiosity killed the cat, dude!’ but instead, I stuttered…at a complete loss of how to explain my moment of insanity.

  “Yes, she said Q,” Mira replied matter-of-factly. She was spreading her books out on the table as she talked, seemingly unaware that she was revealing top secret, eyes-only, need-to-know information. “It’s our code-name for you. It stands for the Quintessential Quarterback.” She said the words with a flare, waving her hands in those ridiculous gloves she loved to wear, like it was some fabulous name that needed no further explanation.

  Kellen blinked his eyes over to Mira for a split-second, his brows pulling down in confusion, before they latched onto me again like a pair of x-ray leeches out of some disturbing sci-fi movie.

  “
Code name?” He said the words slowly, like he was sounding out a foreign language. He tilted his head at me—waiting.

  Oh, holy chicken head. I wanted to melt into a pile of complete humiliation and hide under the table. Or have Scotty beam me up to another planet where at least I might have some sort of weapon to fight leech-eyes. I’m pretty sure my face was ready to fry off my body from extreme degrees of embarrassment by now. But when all else fails—plead complete moronic ignorance and turn the question on its head.

  “Did I say that?” I asked, all innocent-like. I tilted my head to match his, bravely staring him down, even though I could feel my cheeks radiating heat. I do think, however, the ‘prove it’ part was convincingly implied. His barely-veiled disbelief melted into something else: surprise. A corner of his mouth twitched. Then his eyes narrowed.

  “Ivy.” There was a tone in his voice, like maybe he was going to give me a lecture or something. I braced myself. “You didn’t tell me you had a personality.”

  My mouth sagged open at his insult.

  Then his lips curved in a smile—a true smile—half of his face complying and the other half twisting in that weird way, and instead of hiding it, he actually laughed. Mira started laughing too.

  “Q, you don’t know the half of it,” she said, like they’d been best friends for years. “Ivy tries to use that blank face thing when she wants, but you know what they say about still waters.” Mira tapped her head as she shuffled through her papers looking for some assignment. “That girl is thinking all the time.”

  She didn’t see Q’s face shift to that sexy half-grin thing he did with that damn dimple. He raised his eyebrows at me and his x-ray eyes were suddenly making me warm all over.

  “Yeah,” he said, his gaze never wavering. “I guess I’m going to have to get to know Ivy better.”