November 14, 2010

• nanowrimo, day thirteen.

  oh, darlin', you're a million ways to be cruel.

  
  

  Did you know about this? I think, not wanting to scream in the library as I come into the doorway like a walking whirlwind of emotion.

  Nadia raises her eyebrows at my frazzled tone and sticks a note card in the book she has half-finished to keep her place as she closes it.

  “Should we go somewhere and talk?” Nadia asks quietly.

  I give her a look. I think you know very well that we should.

  She nods once, putting the book into her shoulder bag and walking ahead of me out into the hallway. I follow, quietly fuming, and I know she can hear at least the gist of my frustration amidst the swirl of jumbled thoughts.

  “Outside?” She asks calmly.

  That would probably be best for everyone who lives here.

  “Outside it is.” I follow Nadia through the huge dining room to the back foyer, and as we pass by her, Zahari goes to speak to me but sees my face and thinks better of it, visibly withdrawing.

  When we are safely outdoors on the huge lawn, and the big, solid oak door is closed behind us, and we’ve walked several yards away from the boarding house, Nadia turns to face me.

  “Go ahead,” she holds her hand out, expectant.

  “Did you know Lucas Browning was a reader?” I ask her, trying to keep my voice from trembling.

  Nadia searches my face. “Yes. Why, does it upset you?”

  “Nadia, you belong with someone who can read your mind. You guys could communicate without words. It would be a beautiful eternity. And I could find someone who has to guess. You are the only person in the world who I can’t hide anything from –“

  She gives me a corrective look.

  “Okay, fine. You and Louise are the only people in the world who I can’t hide anything from, thanks to my gift of brutal honesty, and your gift of telepathy. And I’d like for it to stay that way.” I am officially pouting like a child now.

  “Why? You and I get along even better because you sometimes refuse to voice things just to be spiteful to yourself,” Nadia points out, “why wouldn’t you want that in a mate?”

  I gape at her. “In a mate? Good lord, Nadia Eve, I just met this kid.”

  “He’s not a kid. He’s twenty-three,” Nadia corrects lightly.

  “I don’t care if he’s twenty-eight. I call everyone kid,” I scowl. “Besides, why are you even thinking of him that way for me? Why not for yourself? He’s beautiful.”

  “Yes, he is,” Nadia smiles. “And I have seen the inside of his head, and you’re already in it.”

  I roll my eyes, disbelieving. “No, I’m not.”

  Nadia looks as if she’s hesitating. “The second he looked at you, just like you said about him, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

  I frown, even more frustrated by her knowing more than I do. “Why did you invite him to breakfast? Why didn’t you just let him make a move?”

  “Because you’re both too stubborn,” Nadia rolls her eyes. “He didn’t want to come on too strong, and you always do because you can’t help it – so you shy away.”

  I inspect her face very carefully, and even though it’s very much like mine, sometimes her wisdom makes her seem like we’re decades apart.

  “Nadia, I don’t believe in love at first sight,” I sigh.

  Nadia smiles, knowing she broke through at least a little. “There are plenty of people who don’t believe in God, but you and I both know He exists.”

  “He wouldn’t tell me he was a reader. I don’t even know if he wanted me to figure it out,” I tell her. “But then he quoted one of my embarrassing thoughts to me, and I knew he’d been listening.”

  “What did you say about him, inside?” Nadia asks, keeping her face casual.

  “That he has a really attractive voice,” I blush.

  Nadia smiles. “He does, doesn’t he?”

  “What do you mean, I’m in his head?” I scrunch up my nose.

  Nadia sighs. “I mean exactly what I said. The reason I invited him to breakfast is because I’m impatient. I saw your face there and told him you were my sister, and even though he was startled, he was grateful that I lead him to you.”

  “Did he really ask me out? Or was that his polite way of pointing out things we have in common?” I ask, actually feeling a flutter of excitement skip its way across my stomach.

  Nadia grins. “I think you know the answer to that. Besides, I refuse to take all of the fun out of this for you. You ask him your questions. I don’t know that much, anyway. He’s good at keeping his guard up. It’s impressive from someone untrained, actually.”

  “I’m kind of glad you don’t know much more than I do,” I admit. “I think I’d be really jealous.”

  “And honestly, sweetheart, a couple of readers being together is kind of like asking for trouble. First of all, we’d get lost in each other’s heads and forget about the rest of the world – reallyyy disconcerting in a crowded room. Second of all, I don’t really want to know if another woman skates her way across his thoughts fleetingly at any point in our relationship. To be honest, I’d be happy marrying a devoid.”

  “Doesn’t that word make normal people sound like aliens?” I make a face.

  “Kind of,” Nadia agrees. “Devoid is an accurate description, though.”

  “True, but why can’t we call them something nice, like…”

  “Barren? Empty? Vacant?” Nadia offers synonyms, and none of them are nice.

  “Okay, this isn’t going to work.” I sigh. “I guess they have to sound like freaks. Although, come to think of it, the Network really came up with crappy names for both parties. We’re outsiders and they’re devoid. It’s just like, negativity, all around.”

  “Well, what would you like to call us?” Nadia smirks.

  “Special,” I offer. “Gifted?”

  “Extraordinary,” Nadia sweeps her hands like a banner over her head.

  “Okay. I see your point,” I grin. “Either way, I don’t particularly like being labeled. I mean, we all have to poop, right?”

  “You know, that’s very true,” Nadia agrees. “I never really thought about it like that, but we are all human.”

  “We are. And we are all made for more, but you and I just use more of our brains than most people,” I say.

  “You know, that isn’t true,” Nadia shook her head.

  My eyes widen in surprise. “Seriously? Don’t most people only use ten percent of their brain capacity?”

  “No, humans use one hundred percent of their brains,” Nadia explains. “I don’t know where that myth got started, but Lydia explained to me that scientists who have done tests don’t have any answers as to why we have the abilities we do. There’s no mutant gene, there’s no expanded brain power, nothing.”

  “So it’s all spiritual, then,” I offer.

  “Possibly,” Nadia shrugs. “Though I don’t understand why God would only choose certain people to have our strange gifts.”

  “Maybe it’s just like, certain people are more language-oriented, while others are really good at math,” I ponder.

  “Like Lenny,” Nadia says.

  “That kid is a savant,” I laugh. “He’s not even an Outsider. He’s just a freakin’ genius.”

  “Well, he’s outsider-ish enough to qualify to be living here,” Nadia explains. “His brain is like a huge calculator. He’s constantly quantifying up there. It’s really tiring to listen to, although, I’d like for him to be nearby when I have insomnia, because that boring mess of scientific equations would really lull me into a great sleep.”

  “I wouldn’t want Lenny anywhere near me when I’m sleeping,” I shudder. “That’s why I’m so glad that the boys have to sleep in the west wing of the house.”

  “You’re so mean to poor Lenny,” Nadia frowns. “He’s a nice boy. And he likes you because you’re not afraid of his massive brain.”

  “He also likes me because of my massive chest,” I scowl.

  Nadia laughs as she looks down at my boobs without thinking about it. I don’t know why God’s sense of humor involves making one twin with a much slower metabolism than the other, but I am the super obnoxiously curvy twin, while Nadia is more lean and slender. On days when I can’t come close to zipping my jeans, I wish we were identical twins.

  “I will never understand why you got the D’s,” Nadia points.

  I cross my arms, hiding my ample chestage. “You and me both, sister.”

  A thought occurs to me then, and my eyes widen.

  Nadia laughs out loud. “No, Georgia. That’s not what Lucas Browning likes about you.”

  “Not the only thing, you mean,” I grin.

  “Yes,” Nadia smirks. “He is still a man, after all.”

  “Thank God for that,” I laugh.

   

  “Girl,” Zahari says the second Nadia and I stroll back into the dining room, “Are you two okay? Because, you looked really pissed when you left.”

  “We’re fine,” I assure her. “We just needed to clear some stuff up, is all.”

  “Good,” Zahari breathes a sigh of relief, holding a hand to her chest. “I hate when you two fight. It like, never happens, so it makes me really nervous when it does. What was the problem?”

  Nadia smirks. “Lucas Browning.”

  “Oh, damn! Are you two fighting over him?!” Zahari asks, her eyes wide.

  “No, Z, we are not fighting over him,” I sigh. “Quite the opposite, actually. Nadia is practically pushing him on me.”

  Z raises her dark eyebrows. “For real? Because, that’d be kind of awkward…”

  “ZAHARI, I DO NOT MEAN ON TOP OF ME,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “Ohhh. I get ya now. Why doesn’t she want him? That man is fine,” Z purses her lips.

  “I asked her the same thing,” I tell her. “And she told me she doesn’t want a reader.”

  “That’s kind of hypocritical, ain’t it?” Z asks Nadia, an amused grin on her face.

  “Trust me, Zahari, you would hate it, too,” Nadia tells her. “I mean, what if some guy could do exactly what you do? It would be weird.”

  Z gives her a look. “What, recreate things from a photographic memory with any sort of artistic instrument? We could create amazing stuff together, Nadia.”

  “Okay, wrong question,” Nadia rolls her eyes. “Just, trust me. If you were a reader, you wouldn’t want another reader. We wouldn’t have to talk to each other. We’d create little baby readers. And that’s just… weird.”

  “I believe you,” Z tells her, even as she’s making the symbol for ‘crazy’ behind her back to me.

  I snicker, and Nadia sighs.

  “Zahari, you know that I’m a reader. You know that I know that you’re currently making fun of me to my twin, because I see you doing it in her perfect memory.”

  “I know,” Z grins.

  Nadia gives her a deadpan glance.

  “You know I love you, baby,” Zahari squeezes her cheek. Nadia laughs and walks away shaking her head.

  “Girl,” Z squeezes my shoulders. “I hear you had a spat with Mr. You-Have-To-See-Lynyrd-Skynyrd-Play-Free-Bird-Live-With-Me today. Which, by the way, I should never have to hear things about your life from Charlotte Braxton ever again.”

  I ignore her obvious prying with big, star-struck eyes. “You noticed that, too? He really does want to take me to see them live?”

  “Lawd have mercy, Georgia Lynn, you better be giving me some details,” Z shakes me a bit.

  I regale the whole dramatic tale for her, fulfilling her need for some excitement in our lives – other than the usual bizarreness of our existence – and Z heaves a sigh at the end.

  “His voice really is sexy,” she admits. “So are various other parts of him.”

  I give her a threatening look.

  Z laughs at my intensity. “Hey, baby doll, he ain’t your man, yet. I can make casual observations without you having a hissy.”

  “Yet,” I snort. “If he ever is my man.”

  Zahari smiles at me. “Sweetheart, I’ve seen the way that boy looks at you. I’m the one who pointed it out to your oblivious self! Those gorgeous eyes light up like he’s a little boy and you’re his first Christmas tree or fireworks on the Fourth of July. And you’re the only light he sees.”

  “It isn’t fair to the rest of the world,” I say. “There are so many other more beautiful, gifted, fascinating women here. Like Nadia, or Charlotte, or even Lydia.”

  “But there’s gonna be one less lonely giiiirl,” Z sings to me, and a few people still eating lunch turn around to give us a look. I recognize one of them as Eleanor – the ‘straight bitch’ who can move things with her mind – and choose to ignore her. “Hey wait a minute, skank ho. Why didn’t you mention me as one of the beautiful, gifted, fascinating, luscious women who Lucas Browning could be chasing besides your sorry ass?”

  I give her a knowing look. “Because I think Jonathan LeBlanc would have a serious issue with that. And I really don’t want to see them get into an ugly fistfight anytime soon.”

  Zahari’s face melts into a pleased smile and she looks down at her feet.

  “Ha,” I point to her. “I knew it. You are so in love with him.”

  “I am not in love with him, Georgia Lynn. Don’t be such a middle-schooler.”

  “Yes you are,” I taunt her. “You write his last name with yours all over your notebooks, and draw little hearts all over and around it.”

  “Stop it,” she tries really hard not to smile. “I mean it!”

  “Zahari Elise LeBlanc, Mrs. Zahari LeBlanc, Z. E. L.,” I chant, and she reaches out and pinches my spongy stomach. “Ow! Z! Why you gotta go there like that?”

  “Because you always gotta go there like that,” Z grins. “Besides, he just flirts with me. It’s his Nawlins-boy charm. He does it with all the girls.”

  “Uh-uh,” I shake my head. “Jonathan LeBlanc has never flirted with me once the way he flirts with you. It is crazy intense. You are seriously like… the prettiest dessert he’s ever laid eyes on.”

  “Oh sure! You get to be Christmas decorations, and I’m food. That’s not insulting,” Zahari rolls her bright blue eyes.

  “You’re not just food. You’re the prettiest, fluffiest plate of powdered-sugar-sprinkled beignets in the whole wide South,” I tease her. “And that boy has seen some beignets. They’re his aunt’s most cherished recipe, remember.”

  “Yeah, I remember,” Z says. “He just told us that this morning.”

  “Oh, it is only like four o’clock now, right? Man, I feel like a whole week has passed since breakfast.” I scratch my head.

  “Yeah, you missed lunch,” Zahari smirks. “I guess you had something waaaay tastier, though.”

  I roll my eyes at her. “Oh, geez, will y’all stop it with this whole Lucas Browning thing? We talked about his family. That’s it.”

  “Yeaaah, but your miiind was sayin’ so much moooore,” Zahari sing-songs.

  “Yeah, and now I know I gotta keep those things locked up out of his reach,” I scowl. “I can’t believe he heard the insane lust fest going on in my brain.”

  “Baby girl, that was definitely not a lust fest. You weren’t picturing him naked doing dirty things to you, right? You were merely appreciating the perfect work of God’s hands,” Zahari waggles her eyebrows.

  She looks over my head and sees something she likes. I know this, because she lowers her eyes and shakes her head and says, “Mm.”

  “What?” I grin.

  “Just…appreciating the perfect work of God’s hands,” Zahari grins, not looking at me anymore.

  I look over my shoulder and there is Jonathan LeBlanc, collecting plates and now staring over this way. A brilliant smile parts his thick lips, and he tosses a wink to my best friend.

  “You need to walk over there,” I poke her in the ribs. “Admire him from up close, so he can return the favor.”

  “Lawd a’mercy, what kind of crazy modern woman do you take me for?” Zahari throws a hand to her chest dramatically.

  “The kind who pictures that perfect work of God’s hands naked,” I deadpan.

  “Hey, hey, it was only one time. And I didn’t know Nadia was right there,” Z holds up a corrective finger and grins.

  “It also doesn’t help that your mind is like a freaking photograph,” I laugh. “Nadia was so red when she told me about it.”

  Z is unashamed. “Hey, my gift is fine art. So I appreciate fine art… especially from the Master Artist. I mean seriously, God is so good at what He does.”

  I shake my head.

  Her eyes suddenly widen and she looks directly at my face. Her expression is a mixture of fear and elation.

  “What is your problem?” I snicker.

  “He’s coming over here,” Z squeezes my hand. “Uh… act natural.”

  “I don’t know why people always say that. I’m not doing anything unusual. Talking to you in the middle of the dining room is totally normal for me.”

  “I realize that, but, he makes me really nervous. So, I just want you to act normal so that I can try and feel normal.”

  “You’re good at hiding your nerves,” I tell her. “I can feel your insides in a knot whenever he talks to us, but you keep your cool. I envy that so much.”

  “Don’t –“ she reprimands. “It’s not that great of a skill. Playing hard to get is not fun for me.”

  “Yes it is,” I roll my eyes. “It’s fun for every girl who is capable of it.”

  “You aren’t missing much,” she tells me.

  “Says the girl who has the ability,” I counter.

  “Hello, ladies,” Jonathan walks up to us with a stack of dirty plates in his hands. “Do you have anything for me?”

  Zahari covers my mouth, heading off the onslaught. “No, I think we’re okay. How are you, Jonathan?”

  “I’m just fine, cher,” Jonathan smiles at her. “And yourself?”

  “About the same,” she shrugs.

  “So, there’s supposed to be this really great club about twenty miles from here,” Jonathan says, balancing the plates and keeping his eyes on Zahari. “I was thinking maybe we… I mean, a group of us, could go and check it out this weekend.”

  “Me? Dancing? Jonathan, you obviously don’t know me very well,” I pipe up.

   “Oh, mon ami, it’s not so hard. You just move your body to the music,” Jonathan laughs. “Most of those people will probably be drunk and won’t care about your skill or lack thereof, anyway.”

  “Well, when you put it that way, it actually sounds like it could be a lot of fun. Don’t you think so, Z?” I grin at her, and Zahari pinches me where Jonathan can’t see for forcing her hand.

  “I love dancing,” she admits. “I haven’t ever been to a club before, though.”

  “It’s wonderful,” Jonathan explains. “I’ve only been once or twice, but when the music’s good, it makes for some good memories. What do you say, girls? Are you interested?”

  “You don’t mean just us three, do you? I mean, I’d hate to be the third wheel,” I say, wanting to laugh at my OG of verbal diarrhea ruining any out for Zahari.

  “No, I was thinking of asking a handful of good friends to make it more interesting,” Jonathan smirks, knowing I can’t help my brutal honesty.

  “I’d love to tag along, then,” I say, trying to subtly elbow Zahari in the gut.

  “Count me in,” Zahari says, trying to keep her voice collected.

  “It’s settled then,” Jonathan smiles. “We’ll see if Lydia will let us borrow her SUV, and we’ll go as a group.”

  “Just curious, Jonathan dear,” I lean forward a little conspiratorially. “Who else were you planning on inviting to this little outing?”

  “Well, who else did you have in mind? I was thinking Nadia and Charlotte may enjoy it, as well,” Jonathan shrugs.

  “Oh, okay. That’s fine. They would have a lot of fun,” I shake my head.

  “Did you mean a certain man who just happens to be staring at you right now, like always?” Zahari points over Jonathan’s shoulder in revenge. I follow the direction of her finger with my gaze, and it lands on Lucas Browning’s face.

  He smiles at me, and my stomach knots.

  “Yeah,” I nod, “We should invite Lucas. He’s new, and I’m sure he’d like to be included.”

  “Of course, mon ami. I’m sure that’s the only reason,” Jonathan winks.

  “Yeah right,” Zahari says sarcastically.

  I just keep my mouth shut, avoiding the come-hither eyes I’m trying not to see.

   

  ___________________________________________________

  now i'm feelin' so fly, like a G6.

  

  
  

   

   

  Friday night comes a lot faster than any of expected, and when the sun goes down we find ourselves piling into Lydia’s huge pearl white Cadillac Escalade. Lydia has been avoiding us by hiding in her office this week, as Ms. Regina Ward is coming on Sunday afternoon to discuss important matters with her, so we do not see much of her – she does not even wake us with loud rap music in the morning.

  This fact allows me to look forward to the copious amounts of wall-shaking bass I am going to hear in the next few hours.

  I am admittedly a little nervous, even though I am dressed in some of my cutest clothes and my high-top black Converses, and I’m ready to get out of the boarding house and have some fun. With me are Nadia, Charlotte, Louise, Wyatt, Lenny, and Lucas Browning, while Jonathan is driving and Zahari is riding shotgun (at Jonathan’s subtle request). My blood is electric in my veins, and I am shoved none-too-gently by Charlotte into the backseat beside Lucas, and she sits beside me so that I cannot escape. I have been practicing for the past two days keeping my thoughts in check, and I do very well all afternoon. But then his leg is touching my leg, and we are sitting hip to hip, and as Charlotte refuses us breathing room, Nadia crushes Charlotte even closer to me, pushing me even closer to Lucas Browning.

  “I’m sorry for crushing you,” I half-smile up at him apologetically. “We girls are kind of used to hanging out in packs.”

  And then the bastard smiles back down at me, and all the barriers Nadia has taught me, that I have carefully constructed and reinforced tumble down to nothing. And all I can think about is how good he smells, and that our bodies are touching, and how awkward I am.

  “It’s alright,” he reassures me. “You smell much nicer than my older brother did after hours in the Toyota Camry when we used to take long family road trips.”

  I bite my lip and he winks at me, and I know he’s hearing all of my reckless inner dialogue. I wish that Nadia and Charlotte weren’t so obnoxious, and that I wouldn’t be such a little girl about sitting so close to someone so attractive, but I’m unable to help it.

  He is still smiling, and inevitably still listening.

  I apologize in advance for any embarrassing thoughts I may have in your direction, Lucas Browning. But I’m pretty sheltered, and when it comes to the opposite sex, I’m very awkward in general – let alone with someone who can read my innermost craziness. I make it clear I am not thinking toward Nadia, who is deep in conversation with Charlotte about getting song ideas for the New Year’s Dance.

  He looks me right in the eyes and shrugs.

  I take that to mean that it doesn’t bother him. Too bad it bothers me.

  “Padiddle!” Zahari yells, and punches the ceiling.

  “Dammit!” I yell. “How did I miss it?”

  “What are you two talking about?” Wyatt laughs.

  “It’s a game, Wyatt,” I explain. “The first person to see a car with a headlight out has to punch the ceiling and yell ‘padiddle’ to get a point. At the end of the ride, the person with the most points wins.”

  “I was told that you have to call it first, because the rest of the passengers who don’t witness the missing headlight have to remove an item of clothing,” Lenny pipes up from the middle seat beside Louise.

  “Oh, my God, Lenny, who have you been playing with?” Charlotte bursts out laughing.

  “My older sister and her friends,” Lenny says innocently. “I kept winning, but they just laughed at me whenever I said ‘padiddle’, instead of… well, you know.”

  “That is definitely not part of the objective, Len,” I assure him, insanely glad we’ve never been in the same car before tonight.

  “That would be called Strip Padiddle, Leonard,” Lucas chimes in. “You don’t just start whipping your clothes off during a game of poker, do you?”

  Dammit.

  He snickers as I picture him taking his shirt off.

  I punch him in the leg. Don’t be an ass. You totally set me up for that.

  The right corner of his mouth, the side facing me, curls upward.

  Thankfully, we arrive at the club before I picture any other clothing articles disappearing.

  “Remember, everyone,” Charlotte takes the lead, already bobbing her head to the throbbing bass we can hear pouring outside, “keep your clothes on, don’t accept drinks from strangers, keep an eye on your glass at all times, and never, ever, attempt to do any of the dance moves I am going to dazzle you with tonight.”

  Louise laughs. “That’s our humble Charlotte.”

  Charlotte shrugs as we reach the door. “Hey, I just don’t want any injuries. You know I’d have to handle it, and I really just want to get down.”

  I watch in envy as Charlotte makes her way to the dance floor, completely bypassing any unwanted conversation or thoughts of alcohol. Her moves are subtle at first, and I know she’s not trying to attract attention to herself or our group, but it’s like she can’t help it. The song changes and her body reacts accordingly, her moves are fluid and fascinating, and soon there are a lot of people – especially men – staring.

  Lucas Browning is one of them. “Charlotte is…”

  “Amazing,” I smile. “I swear that girl came out of the womb dancing.”

  “That’s a really gross mental image, but you’re probably right,” Lucas agrees.

  “It’s like her muscles are puppets and the music has the strings,” I say, and feel like a dork afterward. “Do you know what I mean?”

  “Yes,” he laughs.

  After a moment of awkward silence, he asks, “Do you mind if I join her?”

  I’m taken aback by the nature of this question. “No, of course not,” I say. “I don’t know if she will mind – she kind of likes her space when she gets like this. But, I can’t dance like that, so, feel free.”

  He grins at me. “We’ll have to see about that.”

  I watch him as he throws himself in at the chorus of the song, dancing with unattainable rhythm, answering Charlotte’s impossible challenge with more precision than I could’ve imagined – let alone carried out for myself.

  Louise lets out a low whistle at the circle that has formed around Lucas and Charlotte, pursing her lips like she wants to say something.

  “Just say it,” I mutter.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” she scolds.

  “Done what? Let him do what he wants?” I scrunch up my face. “I don’t own him.”

  “No, and now you’re never going to,” Louise shakes her head. “When a woman can move like that, there ain’t no competing with it.”

  “That’s fine,” I shrug. “He can be with whomever he wants to. It’s not my place to tell him who he can or cannot dance with, let alone be attracted to.”

  “Yes, but he likes you,” Louise rolls her eyes. “And I’m messing with you. He’s showing off for you right now.”

  “Shut up,” I laugh.

  “No, I’m serious,” Louise points. “Look, see that right there? He’s looking right at you.”

  I’m looking at her as I’m listening to her, and haven’t noticed. I turn my eyes back to the crazed dancers, and Lucas tosses me a wink.

  “Oh,” I say sheepishly.

  “Grab Zahari and go out there,” Louise encourages. “I know this is your song. I’ve seen you two dancing to this in your pajamas plenty of times to know that.”

  I grin as I recognize the Flo Rida song that is blaring right now, and before I can say anything else, Zahari is pulling me onto the dance floor.

  “Girl, this is my jam!” Z hollers as she drags me.

  I laugh and shake my head as she leads me into the crowd of people who have dispersed, as Lucas and Charlotte are taking a break from tearing up the first three songs. I focus all of my attention to the song, remembering the countless nights Louise mentioned, channeling ridiculous, pajama-wearing Georgia, instead of the terrified, shy person I feel like in this moment.

  It starts with a twitch of my hips and a wave of my shoulders, and pretty soon I look like a regular, unabashed ho. Zahari is right with me, and the music leads us to carry out fabulous moves that we would never attempt in public otherwise.

  The song changes, and the moves get a bit less appropriate, but we are having fun. And there is not a single drink in my system, just pure adrenaline running through my veins. Nadia has joined in now, with her hopping and arm-swaying, and now the three of us are dancing way too close together. My hair is sticking to my temples and my shirt is clinging to my body, but my hips will not stop swinging.

  I am white, I am sweaty, and I am very much alive.

   

  • 12:43 am
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