Diamond Heart

by M. A. Hinkle

  “What about you?” Felix asked.

  I dropped my hand, affecting a glare. “I keep telling you we’re not a package deal. And also, I have no talent.”

  “You can dance,” said Felix, clasping his hands behind his back. “And I heard you singing at the Cameron James concert. We’re legit trying to find another singer because I can’t hit super low notes, and if the triplets minus one try, they lose their voices. We manually dub them down for the bass parts, but you can tell if you have good headphones. We keep trying to find another guy who is a real bass, but most of ‘em don’t fit the vibe of our band.”

  Morgan was smirking at me over the top of Felix’s head. And I couldn’t manage to think of a good excuse on the spot. “I guess? Although I have no idea why you think I fit this ‘vibe’ you speak of.”

  “You haven’t seen how intense the band can get when they’re really talking music.” Felix said this in a hushed whisper, as though we were discussing releasing the lions at a gladiatorial arena.

  I decided not to ask for examples because the conversation was ridiculous enough.

  Also, I didn’t want to risk admitting… You know. Maybe it would be fun.

  Nevertheless, when we reached our home, Felix stopped short. “Okay, yeah, big house.”

  “Told you.”

  Morgan, responsible boy that he was, turned to Felix. “Are you sure you don’t want a ride back to your place? It’s getting late.”

  Felix shook his head. “It’s cool. I need to work off some energy anyway.”

  “How would we tell the difference, precisely?” I asked.

  Felix pointed at me. “See, again, you’re trying to needle me, but you’ve got to come up with something better. My friends all tell me I’m not allowed to have caffeine, and I tell them I don’t want it anyway because eventually my metabolism will slow down and I’ll thank past me for making sure I have a stimulant I’m not immune to.” He paused. “Which isn’t the usual rock star stimulant. I am not looking forward to the part where we start getting offered drugs.”

  “Please go home. I worry you’ll turn into a very special episode if we feed you after midnight, and there’s no mall in this town, so I don’t know how I’ll deal with the inevitable gremlin invasion.”

  Felix beamed at me—actually at me, not at me by proxy while he was making googly eyes at Morgan—and my breath caught in my throat because fuck my life. “See, you came up with a new one! You’re learning! Bye!” He turned on one heel, neatly as any trained dancer, and walked off toward the park.

  Both of us watched him leave. When he disappeared into the little pretend park-forest, Morgan turned to me. “Is this some weird dream we’re having after slipping into a coma?” He wasn’t joking; he sounded distressed.

  I clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ve been saying so the entire time, but as far as I know, none of us have actually been doped by fairies. We’ll see what happens when we get to the final performance.”

  UP TO NOW, play practice had been pretty boring. But now we were going to start blocking, and I had a problem. I had intended to ignore Miss Copeland’s request and leave the dancing idea to someone else, except… I’d been seriously thinking about it. Making notes in my script about how to interpret different scenes. How dances could convey the meaning of the words, even for people who didn’t get Shakespeare.

  Not that I had admitted any of this out loud, because I still had some pride. And yet, despite all my best-laid plans, I left the library on time instead of waiting for everyone to clear out. I wanted to talk to Miss Copeland before the cast showed up. I meant to go alone, but I should have known better.

  In other words, Felix was following me, humming a Disney song, because he’d sprung fully formed from an animated movie.

  I did have another card to play. “Look, I need to talk to the teacher before this whole shindig gets started today. Do you want to collect Morgan for me?”

  Felix brightened. Then he paused. “Does he need collecting, or is this one of those things you do because you want to spend time with him, but you don’t want to admit it?”

  “Please just go get my brother. He will stay in there until the janitors leave if someone doesn’t remind him he should stop practicing and eat.”

  “Oh, okay. I wasn’t sure if it was an anxiety thing. But it’s a music thing. Cool!” And Felix skipped off.

  No exaggerating. He skipped. Like this was the goddamn Wizard of Oz.

  In the auditorium, Miss Copeland was walking around on stage, inspecting the forest set pieces. As I came up the steps, she fixed me with her blinding smile. “Oh, Gareth! Did you need something or are you just excited to be here?”

  Okay. I could do this. Five words to a teacher without being an asshole. I shoved my copy of the script at her. “I have—ideas. For dancing.” Caveman talk was a step down from my usual silver tongue, but there were no obscenities. It had to count for something.

  “Wonderful. Let me see.” I belatedly realized I’d written swear words in the margins, but if she noticed, she didn’t comment. “I love the idea of using line dances to show how the couples are trading places. And it wouldn’t be hard to teach everyone, either.”

  “Not any harder than learning Shakespeare,” I muttered. Other people were streaming in now. I stared at one of the forest paintings, trying to indicate I was not talking to the teacher despite standing beside her.

  “I notice you haven’t made any notes on your scenes with Felix.” Again, I stared straight ahead, hoping it wasn’t obvious I hadn’t been able to get the dance from the audition out of my head. “I assume you two have decided to stick with the idea you practiced at the auditions? Because that was delightful.”

  If I did have X-Men powers, I’d have blown up the prop with my mind. And goddamn did I wish Professor X would save me now. Hell, I’d take Magneto. “Uh—yeah. We’re sticking with it. Just haven’t had time to teach him the steps.”

  “The good news is it’ll take a while to teach everyone else.” She handed me the script. “I did end up asking Mr. McAlister if he’d come in and help, but we can work with the rest of the cast while you and Felix practice by yourselves.”

  By ourselves. Great. Fantastic. I did not bolt from the stage like the little man-baby I was.

  Felix, Morgan, and the rest of the group were already hanging around by the edge of the stage. Felix dropped his conversation with them to turn to me. “So what did you want to talk to her about?”

  “She’ll presumably tell you when she calls everything to order.” But my scowl wasn’t ferocious enough, because Felix smiled.

  “You could admit you’re enjoying yourself rather than pretending this is a death sentence,” said Morgan as he pulled himself up beside me.

  “Can we go back to the part where you didn’t talk?” I said, dragging my hands down my eyes. “I’m glad your sense of humor is working in public again, but you don’t get to sass me.”

  Morgan ignored this, tapping one heel against the stage. “I told Felix I want him to watch me practice tomorrow. During eighth hour.”

  I waited a second before responding to make sure I wouldn’t talk too loudly, although the band wouldn’t hear us. I could drop a bomb next to them, and they’d move a few feet away and keep talking. “So did you…” I raised my eyebrows at him, to indicate I was referring to personal matters.

  Morgan shook his head, closing his eyes. He seemed ill. I hadn’t seen that face in—a while. “No, but the waiting is worse than trying to figure it out. And I feel mean for not saying anything to him.”

  Before I could figure out a good response, Miss Copeland clapped her hands. “All right, everyone! Today, we start the real blocking, so no scripts. Please leave them aside. Don’t worry, we’ll all be here to prompt you.” Not like any of this crowd had to worry. Most of the kids treated this as seriously as their SATs. I was surprised none of them had tried to turn in an essay on forest symbolism.

  “For those of you who don’t know, thi
s is Mr. McAlister.” She gestured at the teacher beside her. “He’s a dance instructor, and he’s going to be helping us with blocking. In between your scenes, Sarah might round you up for makeup tests. Your costumes are still in production, but things will come together quickly now, so try and keep up. All of our minor fairy court members and our teenagers should come up here with me so we can practice the fairy revel. Oberon and Titania, as well as Theseus and Hippolyta, please work on your scenes together separately. If our clowns could go over with Mr. McAlister, he has a dance to teach you.” She squinted at her clipboard. “Great! Let’s get started.”

  “What are we practicing?” Felix tried and failed to hoist himself up on the stage; I took pity on him and gave him a hand up.

  I gave myself a moment to perfect the exact scowl of disdain I needed for my next sentence. “Our lines, obviously.” I got my hair tie out of my wallet. I couldn’t avoid the tango, but I could at least avoid any more significant moments like the audition. “And—dancing.”

  Felix glanced over at the rest of the group. Miss Copeland was arranging the fairies and humans in two lines, facing each other, and Mr. McAlister was teaching the clowns a Morris dance. Felix, being Felix, was delighted. “Oh, so we’re doing the dance thing? I kind of thought you did it at the auditions to embarrass me.”

  “I can have more than one reason. I contain multitudes.”

  Felix snorted. “I was surprised you suggested it. I’m still surprised, even though I’ve totally figured out your game here.”

  “You totally have not.” I hopped off the stage. “Let’s go over here. If they’re learning the Morris dance, they’ll need the space.”

  Felix followed me over to the space in front of the auditorium seating. “What’s the Morris dance?”

  I pointed at the triplets minus one, who were circling around each other hopping from foot to foot. They had the trick of it, but the other two dancers did not. “That. It’s a traditional English dance…thing.”

  “Oh. Cool.” He turned back to me. “I’m glad you’re going with this idea. I asked Alex and Zach’s mom, Dr. Hale, to teach me how to tango, and she did because she’s cool, even though she had research to do. But Alex and Zach have not shut up about it, all because I told them I thought their mom was hot one time in middle school.”

  “Does everyone here have a professor for a parent?” I was only half joking.

  “It’s how we all met. My mom made a bunch of friends at work, and they had babies around the same time. We’ve been together since we were born.” He put his hands behind his back and stretched his shoulders. “So are we doing this or not?”

  And we did, with the same improvised choreography. I could tell Felix had practiced because we could go faster to match how fast we spoke. Speed was good. Less time for awkward moments where he could peek up at me as if he was enjoying this more than he had any right to.

  When we finished the opening scene, I stepped back. “So, yeah, you’ve been practicing. I guess maybe we should see if we have to learn what they’re doing.” I pointed at the line dance onstage. “It’s not hard, but I’m still shocked you’re as graceful as you are.”

  Felix held up two fingers. “First of all, you’re being mean. And everything is easier if I can imagine there’s music involved.” He paused and held up a third finger. “Also, I had some ideas for the other scenes.”

  Even though there was no chance he’d seen my notes, I glanced at him sharply, trying to write I do not give a single fuck into every line of my body. “Ideas?”

  Felix didn’t pick up on it. “Well, there’s two other big scenes between Oberon and Titania, and I was thinking we should dance in those too. More so now because everybody else is also dancing. Wait, is this what you were talking to Miss Copeland about?”

  “I plead the fifth,” I muttered.

  Felix glanced at me sidelong, his expression much too insightful. “I dunno why you think you need to be embarrassed. Nobody here is going to tear you down. We don’t have some kind of jocks versus band geeks thing going on. The closest we’ve got to jocks is the tuba section.”

  His question irritated me because I knew I could have told Felix the truth. How I’d never fit in at home or with any of Trevor’s family friends. How I worried about Morgan. How it was safer to be alone, because then I couldn’t mess everything up. And Felix would have made sympathetic noises and given me a cute hug.

  But such was the opposite of the plan. “I keep telling you I’m a piece of shit. You’ll listen someday.” I sat on the side steps of the stage. “So what were your ideas?”

  Felix leaned against the railing. “Well, I know you said snarky stuff about the waltz at the auditions, but I still think it’s the dance they do at the end. This is a fairy tale, and the versions everyone knows comes from Disney. They always end with waltzing.”

  “And I suppose there’s dubious relationship morals in Disney movies, so it works.” I said it to pull his tail, and I was not disappointed.

  Felix stuck his tongue out at me. “My mother lectured me about it at least fifty times, thank you. All I want to do is watch Tangled just once in my life without having to discuss the sociopolitical implications afterward.” He paused, dropping his gaze. “I guess I get to all I want now, but it sucks.”

  “I’d push it, but luckily, you’ve picked the ‘we’ve already talked way too much about feelings so fuck it’ card. You move two spaces and flip the banker the bird.” Really, I didn’t trust him not to have a public heartfelt talk all over me. Or that I wouldn’t have a heartfelt talk back. It was contagious.

  “You already know how to waltz.” I turned to the scene in the script where Oberon and Puck break the spell on Titania. “Did you have any ideas about this part?” I did, but I was never going to admit it.

  Felix shrugged. “I did a little Googling and got nothing. I know how to waltz because one of Cathal’s boyfriends was a dance teacher, but it’s the only thing I’ve got.”

  My mind was still somewhere else. I could see the ending so clearly: The girls (and one boy) in sweeping ball gowns; the boys (and one girl and one nonbinary person) in tuxedos with tails. Everyone moving around each other in slow, stately circles, except for the clowns, who used the Morris dance steps to weave in and out between the couples. The costumes shimmering under the bright stage lights.

  But there had to be some buildup between it and the less dramatic dances. Something to carry us along so the final piece would feel earned.

  It was the only reason I spoke up. Not because I wanted to dance with Felix again. And again. “Do you know how to foxtrot?”

  Felix propped his chin on the railing. “No. I thought it was just a different kind of waltz.”

  “It’s based on the waltz, but you can do different things with it. The waltz is essentially a circle, right?” I stood up and traced out the steps. “The foxtrot is a different kind of conversation. The lead advances at first—” I did the first part of the steps. “And then we step sideways. The guided partner becomes the lead, and we return to the same place. And then we repeat the dance with the partners reversed.” I held out my arms and raised my eyebrows. Not a subtle metaphor, but it was for the stage.

  “Ohhhh.” Felix pressed his hands against his mouth. “A super good idea. But how come you were acting all weird? You’re a really good dancer.”

  “You’ll get the picture eventually. Now, come here, and let’s get this over with.” I held out my hands to him. Only to indicate I wanted to get practicing, mind.

  Felix slid down the railing like the male lead in a 1940s musical, his hands spread out and everything.

  We got the first part down but ran into problems when I changed from leader to led. As Felix picked up the steps, he kept closing the space between us—good for acting, not so good for my state of mind.

  I hadn’t realized how small and unassuming he tried to make himself. Normally, he hunched his shoulders and stood pigeon-toed. Now we’d danced a few rounds, he was st
anding up straight, his head up and his eyes focused.

  Felix put his hands on his hips. “For once, it’s not me. You won’t relax. I’m okay with you doing the leading, but if we’re trying to do a vaguely progressive version of this play, then this is a good idea. And even though you’re taller and all tough and junk, I can still take charge.”

  I didn’t want to admit he was right. I’d reversed parts before—the ballroom dancing classes I’d taken when I was younger were gender imbalanced, and I was the only boy who didn’t mind playing “the girl.” Doing everything backward was a good challenge as long as your partner didn’t step on your feet. But it did mean—surrendering. Trusting. Knowing the other person would catch you if you stumbled.

  Felix would never drop me. Which was exactly the issue.

  I folded my arms, glaring toward the stage. The Athenian couples were learning to waltz. Was anyone else involved in their own improbable romantic comedy? Hopefully it wasn’t just me. “I can’t help it. I’ve never danced with someone shorter.”

  Felix made a face. “I’m aware of how short I am, and you don’t need to rub it in. But it was your idea, so you’re responsible for pulling it off.”

  Why, oh why had he chosen now to dig in his heels?

  “Fine, one more time.” I tried to imagine I was dancing with some anonymous boy at a club. I pretended my hands were resting on someone else. When we switched parts, I imagined someone I didn’t know was leading me—someone who made a good dance partner and nothing else.

  But. Nope. Those were Felix’s hands, linked with mine and holding me up. Felix’s stifled giggles as he got the trick of the reverse step. Felix’s eyes, fixed on my face and shining.

  I have never in my life been so happy to hear a teacher call my name. When Miss Copeland clapped her hands to get everyone back up on stage, I backed away from Felix and climbed the steps without making sure he was following me.