After the Kiss
Page 17
Morgan butts into us then, yammering excitedly, but we just swing our hips and jerk our knees and fling our arms, too happy to listen. She gets it and moves with us too, and soon we are all sweaty and grooving. Some girl from the Unitarian church near my house—the first one my parents took me to in their Tour of Houses of Worship back when I was seven and they thought I should at least be exposed to some religion, the one I think they’d attend if they still cared about church—bangs into us and we all smile and wave and do a little dip-you-dip together as a foursome, and the DJ takes us to another hip-hop level, and the whole gym seems to be smiling and . . . just. . . dancing.
About twenty minutes later Naeomi has arrived. We open our circle to include some kids from we-don’t-know-where, who have this kind of tribal-edge vibe to them (shaved parts of heads, black cargo shorts, chains, “native” tatts on their forearms), and who occasionally bust into this awesome break dancing thing with each other. This DJ has a penchant for the old school, but it’s okay because the music is good and my friends are here and everyone is into it. Even Naeomi seems in a good mood. When I scream to her “Where’s Cara?” in the middle of the next song, she simply shrugs and smiles and lets this tall Rasta dude grab her hands and pull her into a cute swing-shuffle. I figure if Cara’s best friend can take it, I’d better chin up over her absence too.
After another good forty-five minutes, it gets hot—really hot—and Morgan says, “I need to sit.” Without protest we all grab hands and follow her to the back of the gym. We sit on the bleachers together about halfway up. Next to me Priah sweeps her hair off her neck. I give my own braids a little pat to make sure they’re still holding, and am glad to find they are. Naeomi fans herself and then Priah, and Morgan leans back on her elbows, watching the crowd before us. Her face is even and cool, but when she catches me staring, she twists her mouth into this goofy grimace, stretching her lips in different directions, her eyes rolling back. We crack up.
The DJ starts a slow set then. The chaperones all take a few steps forward as couples immediately form and lean in together. I’m glad we’re already sitting, so we don’t look like we got driven off the dance floor just because we don’t have slow-dance partners, like most of the masses now swarming to the bleachers around us. I’ve done a pretty good job so far of not really thinking about Disappearing Jake, but now I can’t help it. I wonder where in the crowd he might be, if he’s out there already somewhere, leaning on some other girl.
Ugh. Awful thought. So I watch Cameron twirl a chubby girl in purple tights and a scraggy tulle skirt around instead. A few other people start twirling too. We are all watching, not wanting to be. I look at Morgan and wonder if she wishes Cody were here, or is glad that he’s not. She’s been either quiet or exasperated whenever he’s come up lately, which means, based on her track record, that a breakup is imminent, though I still haven’t figured out if it’ll come from him or her.
My eyes move to Priah. Of all of us, she’s the one who wants a boyfriend most, and this makes her a prime candidate for getting wistful and sobby during the slow dances. There was this boy she had a “relationship” with back in Allegany and even though they only kissed that one time, they kept up pretty well during our freshman year. After school started again in September, though, he stopped writing her back (Morgan and I figure he found someone actually in his own town, but whatever), and Priah got pretty melodramatic, especially since that was when Cara and Michael started getting serious for real. Priahs better now, but tonight I want to make sure she is still holding on to our shining happy dancing moments, instead of sinking into sad sighing. I want to catch her eye, to thank her for my fantastic hair, but as I’m trying I have to look away real fast because about ten feet beyond her is him. Jake. Jake Harper. Jake from Old United and Seymour High. Jake from Valentine’s weekend. That Jake. Him.