Damaged Part 9

"Hey," I say, walking in and sitting on the bed opposite her after my cla.s.ses are done. Our room is decorated with the things Millie enjoys. Since she has more money than me, and I had no intention of decorating it, I let her. Everything is yellow and blue.

After our fallout the other day, I felt bad. I'm sure I was out of sorts. We patched things up later that night. My ego is still bruised, but I'm glad we're not fighting anymore. She's my best friend.

"Hey Sid," she says back, not bothering to look up. Her fingers are racing across the paper, her eyes scanning the information. The b.i.t.c.h has a photographic memory. I'm super jealous. When she finishes, she looks up at me and smiles.

It feels like I fell off a cliff. "I know that look. What'd you do?" I ask her, as I yank my shoes off my feet.

"Nothing devious. d.a.m.n, Sidney. Can't a girl do something nice and smile about it?"

"Maybe, but your little brain doesn't work that way. Besides, I've seen that look enough times to know to run the other way when you give it to me, so let me make this easy on you. Whatever you did-whatever you were going to ask-the answer is no. h.e.l.l no. No way." I flop back on my bed and stare at the ceiling.

Today was long. The 7:00am start makes it feel later than it is. I still have homework and need to grab dinner. It's already getting late.

"But, Sidney, you didn't even hear what it is. I know you'll love it."

"You always say that."

"And you always love it."

"No, I don't. I'm just being polite."

Millie snort laughs, because that's a big fat lie. Polite comments and bluntness are two qualities that cannot coexist. I favor blunt. She knows. "As if that were possible." She throws her head back and makes a whiny sound. "Please, please, please, please..."

I glance at her. "Are you serious?" Millie clasps her hands together under her chin and is still chanting please, please, please. "Are you going to stop?" She shakes her head and continues pleading. "At least tell me what it is."

"Swing dance club. Please, please, please, please, please..." and she keeps on begging me and batting her huge eyes. Maybe that works on Brent, but I could care less.

"No," I say, and pull my arm over my face. She doesn't stop. I laugh at her and say, "Are you going to keep doing that?"

"Yes. Please, please, please..."

I love dancing, especially swing dancing. Between the music, the clothes, and the movement, I love it. There are few things that I can lose myself in. While I don't get modern club dances, which look like people spasming, I do enjoy the old dances. There are moves, steps, and rhythms to get lost in. It takes skill, and when you find the right partner, it's close to perfect. I haven't danced in a long time, not since I left New Jersey.

Millie is still pleading. I let her whine for a few more minutes and then cave. "Fine, but you owe me."

"You always say that."

"Yeah, well, you owe me a ton." She laughs and bounces up and down on her bed. "Where the h.e.l.l did you find a swing dance club down here? I thought just about everything was country."

Millie's eyes slowly drift to the side. I sit up and prop myself onto my elbows and stare her down. She explains, "It's not that kind of club."

"What do you mean?"

"It's a club the school started. The student organization was trying to get it going last year, before the holidays, but we couldn't get a teacher to sponsor us. Well, they finally found someone. And it starts tonight!" She claps her hands like she's three and beams at me.

Oh my G.o.d, this is going to be lame. "A school club?" She nods. "Like chess team?"

"Like the awesome new swing dance club!" Millie is obviously excited.

I'm sorry that I said yes. A cla.s.s full of newbs means I won't get to dance much. We'll be lucky to get past the basics.

Millie jumps up and runs across the room. "I found this dress at the mall. I can't believe it." She grabs a red dress from her closet and pulls it out. The bodice is fitted and it has a full circle skirt. It is perfect. "Now, I have to find saddle shoes!"

"T-straps would look cool with that too." I can't help it. I'm drooling. Millie hands me the dress, so I can admire it. Awh, c.r.a.p. She's sucking me in and I'm letting her. I glance up at her. "You're evil, you know that right?"

Millie beams at me and nods, "You're not going to regret this, Sidney. It's going to be so much fun!"

CHAPTER 10

Millie is wearing her new dress with a pair of heels. I'm wearing a black skirt and white blouse. It's boring, but it's the only thing I have that even comes close to swing clothes. The silky fabric swishes next to my thighs as we walk. The club was given use of the old gym. Old is literal. The gymnasium was constructed in 1919. It has no air conditioning, which is an issue in the heat. But Swing Dance Club is pretty low on the roster, in terms of getting a good room to use, so we were banished to sweat it out in the oldest building on campus. The facade is all brick and the inside smells of moldy socks.

Millie pulls open the door, and we walk through the darkened halls and find the gym. It's much smaller than the new one. We go inside and see Brent. Millie runs over to him and throws her arms around his neck. He holds her tightly and spins her around. Her red skirt twirls as he does it and Millie laughs. I smile at them. She seems happy, which makes me happy. Despite Millie's shortcomings, she's a good friend.

I walk over when Brent puts her down. The club isn't very big. There are less than a dozen kids standing around. From the looks of it, most of them are girls that like the idea of dressing up and dancing. The guys tagged along hoping to get lucky for being such good sports. Guys can be so dumb. Dancing, especially this kind of dancing, is a chance to get close to a girl. He can feel her whole body against his and it's expected. Dancing is hot and heavy, all hands with racing hearts and ragged breathes.

As I'm thinking these thoughts, I start to feel goose b.u.mps come up on my arms. I ignore the sensation, thinking about being held in someone's arms and wish that I had someone that I wanted to hold...someone besides Peter. That's when things get interesting.

Trevor, a dark-haired, tall, thin student calls us to attention. I sit on the last row of bleachers so I don't have to climb in my skirt. He claps his oversized hands three times and everyone goes quiet. "As you know, we finally got the Swing Dance Club approved." Someone whoops, and Trevor continues. "We have a faculty sponsor, which was hard to find. No one dances like this anymore, so I can't tell you how lucky we are. So," Trevor presses his palms together. "Is there anyone here that has a basic understanding of Swing? Maybe you know the steps well enough, but nothing fancy."

I lift my hand along with a few others, most of whom are girls. We put our hands down as Trevor looks around and nods at each of us. "Okay, great. I was hoping that would happen. It'll help us get started, which is always the hardest part of forming a club. Until we have the basics, we really can't get into advanced moves, and we sure can't do throws. I don't suppose anyone in here is up to that level?"

I lift my hand, shyly, and wave my fingertips at him. He looks surprised.

"Jersey girl can dance?"

"Well, not alone. It's not like I can do anything more than the basic steps without an experienced partner." I rub my hands nervously in my lap. Everyone is looking at me. I squirm in my seat a little bit until a voice makes my heart skip a beat.

"How experienced are you, Colleli?" Peter says, rounding the bleachers from the side.

My mouth falls open. I glance at him and then back at Trevor, who introduces him. "This is Dr. Granz, our sponsor. He's also very experienced. This is great! Maybe you guys could show us a thing or two?"

Until then, I'd been staring at Peter. It isn't until Trevor offers me up, that I come back to myself. I act shy, and shake my head, saying, "That's okay. I'm sure we should just start with the basics tonight anyway." My heart is thumping in my chest, flopping around like a fish out of water. I can't breathe. I can't dance with Peter. Every time he touches me, my brain melts. The night we were almost together will come rus.h.i.+ng back. I can't do it.

Peter cuts his gaze from Trevor and takes in my reaction. "We should stick to the basics. Advanced moves are very challenging. A novice would have issues and we don't want to single anyone out. Now-"

"I'm not a novice." I interrupt, offended. Peter turns his face toward me and I realize that I've been played. b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

He's smirking. "Would you like to prove it?"

"d.a.m.n right, I would." I get up and smooth my skirt, annoyed with him. If the arrogant p.r.i.c.k thinks he can do this better than I can, he's got another thing coming. Peter turns on the music. It's something newer, but it's still big band music-it's still swing.

We walk up to each other and lock eyes. It's as if I'm daring him to touch me. Peter's hands slip into place and we start. Our feet move in step with each other. I pull and move, trying to take the lead, testing him. Peter won't let me. He dances me across the gleaming wooden floor, snapping my wrist back every time I try to defy him and move in a way he doesn't want. Peter's grip on my hand tightens, before he launches me into a spin. I shoot out from his body and twirl on my foot, before he stops me. Our hands are connected. He waits a beat and then yanks me back to him, hard. I smirk and spin back.