What am I doing here?
I thought that this Halloween dance would remind me of last year, being in the gym with Jocelyn, but it doesn’t. Primarily because of the music. I guess the country music and heavy rock DJ got replaced with the hip-hop and teen-bop DJ.
I’m not sure which is worse.
It’s really awful seeing a bunch of white kids trying to dance to a Jay Z song. Doesn’t matter if it’s in Libertyville or Solitary. They’re kinda just swaying at some of the rap songs while going crazy over the Lady Gaga type songs.
Yeah, I should not be here.
But I came with Harris, and he’s fine dancing with half the girls out there. We’re going to a party after this, where maybe the ghost of Jocelyn will show up. Or maybe Poe will come out of nowhere.
A pounding dance track begins with a female singer saying, “Don’t hold your breath.”
I’ve been here for an hour at least when I see her.
The tall girl with the long legs in the black mini-skirt.
And no, I’m not talking about Lily, who I haven’t spoken with for several weeks. I’m talking about my Facebook friend and former art partner and potential cheerleading partner, who seems to have gone on some makeover show and turned into … this.
Kelsey’s hair is straight and long, and she’s wearing a long-sleeved pleated shirt that fits her just right. She’s with her senior friends on the dance floor while the rest of the room, especially the guys, are watching them.
Harris, of course, is right there with them, dancing and smiling.
I take a sneak peek maybe, possibly. I don’t know.
I’m not even bothering to hide my glance. At this point, it doesn’t matter.
Yeah, maybe I’ve blown all my opportunities with Kelsey, and maybe she’d be wise to learn from those times.
But at the end of the song, her glance finds mine.
She smiles. As usual.
This time I smile back, not trying to hide anything.
It’s nice to share a smile in this place.
“Did you, uh, come here with the girls?”
Kelsey looks at me. “No—the college senior brought me.”
She smiles, and I know she’s kidding.
“You look—different.”
Her eyes dart down, and the old Kelsey, the shy and timid one, seems to suddenly resurface.
“Different as in really great. I mean—well, okay, this is going downhill fast.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
I nod. “Sorry, it’s just. I mean, you know—”
“This belongs to Georgia. My Dad would kill me if he saw me.”
I laugh. “You look nice.”
She smiles, and something comes over her face.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
A slow song comes on, and this time I don’t want to wait or wonder or let another second go by not doing anything.
“Do you want to dance?” I ask.
She looks surprised, but the nod is quick and I know she wants to. Not because I’m some magnificent catch here in this gym. No, not at all. I’m like some trout fish caught in a pond. Or maybe a worse kind of fish. I’m not a fisherman, so I’m not sure how to even rank the fish, but trout just seems sorta bland. I’m not cod, that’s Gus. And I’m not shark. That’s someone like Ray.
And why in the world are you thinking about fish as you’re heading out to the dance floor idiot?
Kelsey puts her arms around my shoulders as I put my hands against her sides. I do this slowly because I’m hesitant, not sure how she’s going to react to being this close. I know we’ve danced before and all that, but—
She pulls me closer.
Kelsey—sweet little Kelsey—is pulling me closer to her.
Okay, then.
We dance to a slow but upbeat R & B song, something where the guy talks about being alone at night talking to the moon.
I feel Kelsey against me and she feels right.
I calm down.
Staunch and Marsh and Lily and Jocelyn and Newt and Gus and Jared and Wells all go away for a moment. I’m no longer in this town. No longer in this stinky gym. No longer a teen.
The song seems to end before it even begins. It goes into another slow song by Beyoncé.
Kelsey looks at me for a moment.
“Am I hogging you from the others?” I ask.
“It’s okay. They can wait. They’ve had four years to ask me to dance.”
“You don’t want to dance with any of them,” I whisper close to her ear so she can hear me above the pounding bass.
She smells like some kind of bright fruit, and if I close my eyes I imagine some tropical place. It’s a nice thought. I see us dancing like this at dusk to some Caribbean music.
“Kelsey, I’m sorry,” I say into her ear as the song swells, just like my emotions are doing.
“For what?”
For pressing pause on that last dance and pressing mute on everything this summer and for trying to erase the track before it finished playing.
“For being a guy.”
She looks at me, and I see everything in that look.
Suddenly I discover that I’m not the only one who’s escaped this dreadful place through a song and a dance.
Kelsey’s escaped too, and she’s right by my side.
The dance is over, but the crowd of students doesn’t seem to want to leave. I see that look on Kelsey’s face again, the one I saw right before I asked her to dance.
“What?”
She only smiles.
“Come on—tell me what you’re thinking, ’cause I know you’re thinking something.”
“Georgia was right.”
“Right about what?”
“She told me to wear this outfit tonight. She said I’d be noticed.”
I nod. “Tell Georgia I owe her one.”
Kelsey flips her hair over her shoulder and gives me a playful, teasing sort of look. A flirty look. “She would probably tell you that you owe her a lot more than one.”
I smile, knowing Kelsey is right.
Before I can say anything else, she leaves me there, speechless, breathless, lost for a short while.
It’s a very short while, but at least it’s something.