25. I Have Nothing

The school gymnasium is packed. The normal smell of tennis shoes and sweat is mixed with an additional odor: bad cologne. It reminds me of a guy we used to call Gift Cologne who would always wear a new kind of spray after Christmas and his birthday. I’m following Jocelyn and can already tell that just being on school grounds has made her attitude shift a little. She’s a little more serious, a little more guarded.

I guess I would be too if guys whistled at me the way they do her.

“I’m sure Rachel’s already here,” she tells me in a loud voice over the blaring music. “Look on the dance floor.”

The song playing is exactly what I think of when I hear the term “country music.” The singer has a deep drawl, the guitars are twangy, and the lyrics mention something about a pickup truck and a dog. I’m not joking.

Bring back Tears for Fears now. Please.

“There she is,” Jocelyn says, getting Rachel’s attention.

For a minute I lose her in the mass of bodies. Back at my old high school, dances were thought of more as a joke. They’d have a few student bands play, and it became more like a concert for indie groups than a dance.

Guess there’s not much else to do around here.

I start looking for Jocelyn and then think about Gus and his buddies. But I don’t find either in the crowd.

I feel a tug on my arm, and Rachel gives me a hug like a long lost friend. “You made it.”

“Yep,” I say.

“Chris, this is Lee.”

A good-looking guy with short hair and a face that makes him look like a fifth grader smiles at me and says hi.

“He’s a sophomore,” Rachel says in a voice that already sounds like it’s disappearing.

A new song starts playing, this one AC/DC. The room erupts, and everyone seems to start dancing. That includes Rachel and Lee.

But not Jocelyn. She moves her head and speaks into my ear. “I hate this song. Come on. Let’s go see if they have anything to drink.”

I follow her like a little boy wading through the crowd with his mommy.

Even in the chaos of student bodies jumping around us, I see the familiar stares.

Glares, I think.

People who look at me with complete and utter disdain.

I don’t get it.

I don’t get it because I haven’t done a single thing to any of them.

Why did Rachel want Jocelyn to come to this thing?

I can’t help wondering this as we stand and watch Rachel and her date dance and glisten with sweat and wave repeatedly at us. We hold our plastic cups of soda in our hands. Occasionally we try to talk, but it’s too loud to hear anything.

The DJ plays either loud, bad country or loud, classic rock and roll. Every fifth song is what I call bad peppy pop—something that sounds like an overproduced song sung by someone who lacks talented and is not of age.

Guess it’s easy to be a critic when you’re standing on the sidelines.

After about half an hour of this, I ask Jocelyn if Rachel is going to dance all night.

“Yep. But we’ll be able to talk to her at the party later.”

I nod as if I know what she’s talking about.

A party?

Suddenly I’m a better mood.

Suddenly I don’t worry about this night ending with the two us standing and staring at the crowd in the middle of the gym.

“Such fun, huh?” Jocelyn asks.

“You don’t like to dance?”

“Not here,” she says, staring off at the students who don’t seem to be anything like her.

Or like me.

Our first dance is—well, I’m not sure how to describe it.

I’m heartbroken in several different ways. For the wrong and the right ways.

I blame Rachel.

She’s the one who comes up after the song and brings that ten-year-old with her.

They’re beaming like newlyweds frolicking around in their love. Rachel hugs me again for some reason. And then the music starts.

A slow dance.

“Come on, Joss. Go dance.”

“No.”

“Come on. Oh, I love this song. Come on.”

“Okay, fine.”

And then.

Yes, and then …

The moment is etched in my mind.

Jocelyn takes a hand.

But it’s not mine.

“Let’s go.”

The expression on Lee’s face surely can’t be as surprised as the one on mine.

I probably could fit a football in the gap between my lips.

I see Jocelyn wander off on the dance floor with its beating blue and red lights to slow dance with Lee.

Slow dance.

Arms wrapped around each other. Slow moving and close and …

Mine.

That’s my dance.

That’s why I’m here, right?

Then I hear the voice singing. It’s a female singer—someone I think I’ve heard before but can’t actually name.

It sounds like an older song, maybe a decade or two old.

I see those eyes and that face staring at me. As if she wants to make sure I’m watching her.

Is she trying to get me jealous?

“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” Rachel yells out.

Lovely isn’t the right word.

And as the song begins to crescendo, a song that I’ve surely heard but don’t recognize, I watch the couple dance and laugh and I feel jilted.

The words seem to echo my thoughts.

“I have nothing—nothing. Nothing. If I don’t have you.”

And somehow, in some way, I’m moved.

Not to anger, but something else.

There’s nothing suggestive to this dance. It seems innocent and fun. And it seems like this is Jocelyn. This picture. Just a girl wanting to have fun. Wanting to give a guy the pleasure of dancing with her.

And watching me to make sure that I get it.

Do you get it, Chris?

No.

Nothing about this I get.

I don’t get this gym or this school or this ancient song that’s strangely bringing tears to my eyes.

What is happening to you, man?

It must be the pain medication I’m on.

It must be the rabies I’m infected with.

It must be the glorious sight of this girl with her sweet smile who’s watching me, who’s smiling at me.

Without her, I wouldn’t be at this dance.

Without her, this entire place would be completely miserable.

I know.

I know now.

Not dancing with her, not dancing in her arms, but standing there staring and watching her finally let go and have fun—

This is when I know that this deep bubbling ache inside is real.

It’s not just because she looks like she does.

I can’t help that.

I can’t.

But it’s because she’s human and real and strangely intoxicating.

“Well, that’s surely blown Lee’s mind,” Rachel says with a laugh.

Yeah. Mine too.