Chapter Eleven
Why can’t we come watch you dance?”
“It’ll make me too nervous, and I’ll get the hiccups,” I tell Collin for the hundred millionth time. “You won’t like it anyway.”
“You don’t know that,” Jonathan says. “We might. And Jonathan knows how to cure the hiccups.”
“You can’t,” I say adamantly, ending the conversation.
“Fine.” Collin crosses his arms, sulking.
“Good luck, I guess,” Jonathan says with a shrug, like he’s not quite sure the right thing to say.
“Yeah, break a leg,” Collin says grumpily.
“They don’t say that in dance,” I tell him.
“Good, ’cause that sounds stupid,” Collin returns like he is smarter than I am.
“Why don’t we say something else then?” Jonathan suggests.
“Like… something about how you dance really good. And fast. And light the stage on fire.”
I laugh. “My feet don’t move that fast.”
“It’s ballet, not tap dancing,” Jonathan tells him. “But I like the idea of lighting it up. Or… burn it down.”
“Yes!” Collin says excitedly. “We’ll say burn it down.”
I laugh again. “Okay, sure.”
“What other weird thing do they do?”
I think for a moment. “They give us flowers after, which is weird because what am I supposed to do with flowers? I mean, they’re pretty, but then they die. Wish we could get something more fun, like candy or jewelry.”
“Or jewelry made of candy,” Collin adds with a huge smile, revealing the Twizzlers hiding his teeth.
“Don’t worry, Collin. I’ll get you something sparkly to match your eyes,” Jonathan teases.
Collin sticks out his tongue between the two Twizzlers. I squeal with laughter.
When I step off the stage after my solo performance, my heart fluttering in my chest and sweat dampening my hair, there’s a yellow gift bag waiting for me in Lillian’s hands.
She’s one of the junior dancers I help teach.
With a giggle, she presents it to me. “A boy told me to give this to you when you were done.”
“Thank you,” I say, taking it from her. My eyes flit around, looking for the givers. But I know they’re not here. They wouldn’t do that to me… I hope.
Inside is the message that I’ve received over the years, sometimes with slight variations.
The drawing has improved over time, but it always makes me smile to see Burn It Down in block letters across the top of the inferno that has consumed the stage.
I unwrap the tissue paper to find only one gift this time.
I hold up a bracelet that looks like authentic pink crystals strung on elastic.
I taste it with the tip of my tongue, and it tingles with sweetness—rock candy.
Clever. Collin has insisted on making a candy bracelet for every recital.
He’s gotten more and more inventive, after that first bracelet made of Twizzlers. This is definitely the most elegant.
But the Ring Pop that always accompanies it is missing. Did Jonathan forget? My heart sinks. This would be the first time that he forgot. And the most important. I search the bag again. Maybe I overlooked it. Except I know I didn’t.
“What are you doing?” Danika asks when she finds me standing in the wing as the house lights come up.
“Uh, just admiring my candy bracelet,” I say, dipping my wrist to give her full view. “I have no idea how Collin made it, but it looks like real jewelry, doesn’t it?”
“Wow.” Danika takes my hand to hold the bracelet closer. “He should really start his own company. Forget college and business school.” She searches my fingers. “Where’s your Ring Pop?”
I gently pull my hand away, fold my arms behind my back and shrug, averting my gaze. Danika narrows her eyes, but she doesn’t say anything. My face says everything.
When Danika and I arrive at Livvy’s, we set down our bags in the entry and shuck off our jackets, hanging them in the foyer closet.
Her house is modern with cathedral ceilings, in the same grand design as ours.
But whereas Mom uses color accents, wallpaper and molding to provide character to warm the interior of our historic home, Livvy’s is white walls, chrome and minimal accents other than several spotlit paintings.
It feels more like a surgery than a home.
We find Jaz and Darcy twisted together on a recliner in the living room, giggling like crazy. They aren’t even saying anything. Their foreheads are pressed together with their legs pretzeled around the other, laughing like there’s a joke they find endlessly funny.
“Don’t mind them,” Livvy tells us. “They found my father’s stash of gummies.”
Livvy has a glass of something red that smells of liquor in her hand and a lollipop stick protruding from between her lips, a cheek chipmunked with the candy so she can talk. “Thought we’d sleep in here tonight. There’s plenty of room on the couches.”
I already want to leave. I’ve barely taken off my jacket, and I’m searching for a reason to walk three houses down to the privacy of my room. I don’t want to be around anyone tonight.
And if I’m going to spend the night with the girls in a house I never thought I’d set foot in, I really, really don’t want to be the only one sober. Danika emerges from pilfering through the fridge with a drink of her own.
“Want me to make you one? I won’t put much vodka in it so you won’t even taste it,” Danika offers. I shake my head. “I know you don’t drink much, but I thought that was because you usually drive. Are you sure you don’t want to try one? You don’t have to get drunk or anything.”
“You don’t drink?” Livvy asks, her face scrunched like I’m stranger than she already thought I was. “Didn’t know that. I mean, we don’t really party together. Guess I never paid attention when I saw you out. You should try letting loose a little. You don’t have to be perfect tonight.”
“I’m good,” I tell her, my voice eking out of my dry throat. “Thanks though.”
“Check what’s in the fridge,” Livvy says, grinning at the giggling couple, who are nearly peeing themselves.
She inserts a mixed CD and the room fills with music.
The gummy bears squeal and jump up from their seat, practically falling as they untangle their legs, which throws them into another fit of laughter.
“I love this song!” Danika declares, swaying her hips with her arms in the air—the glass of something clear and bubbly rocking between her fingers.
She reaches for my hand. “C’mon, Sadie. Dance with me.
” She pulls me into the center of the room, and I let her, my body stiff and my legs barely cooperating.
I’m so uncoordinated just walking; no one would believe I received a standing ovation an hour ago.
Darcy and Jaz slow dance with their foreheads still pressed together, like the only way they can stay upright is to lean on the other.
They aren’t even trying to move to the beat of the music.
Livvy sits on the arm of her huge sectional that wraps around half the room and watches, sipping from her glass, the lollipop dangling from fingers in her other hand.
I allow Danika to twirl me around the room, swaying and laughing.
I want to relax. To enjoy being here with the girls.
But I feel off. Watching Jaz and Darcy—lost in their own world, filled with giggling and incoherent whispers—makes my heart ache.
They’re adorable and are having fun in their love bubble.
And I love that for them, but also wish it for me.
My thoughts keep going back to the empty bag, and I don’t know how to wipe away the hurt.
Livvy watches me like I’m here for her entertainment.
She doesn’t take her eyes off me, like she’s expecting something from me.
I can’t figure her out. Danika abandons our schoolgirl twirling and pulls Livvy after her into the kitchen to refill their glasses.
I really don’t want to be here. But I don’t know how to leave.
I never had many girlfriends. They came and went over the years.
We tended to grow out of one another like our clothes each school year.
And when I stopped growing and felt like I finally fit in my skin, I was surrounded by these girls, my truest friends, who celebrate their uniqueness.
Bold and vibrant. Unafraid of the whispers and side-eyes.
Darcy and I met our freshman year when our middle schools merged. With her copper-brown hair, shorn to a pixie, and sparkles dusting her freckled cheeks, she was easy to adore. She laughed at my Love like an otter T-shirt, displaying two otters holding hands, floating down a river.
She came over to me during freshman orientation and asked if she could be my otter friend, holding out her hand.
I took it without hesitation. Her other hand clasped on to Jaz’s when she moved to Hollis during winter break that year.
And I let them float off on their own when it became obvious they were more than just friends.
It was the three of us with them being in their own orbit during the times I was with Jonathan and Collin.
Until Danika reclaimed herself junior year.
She balances us. Our bond over dance allowed us to grow into best friends easily.
I’ve never had to guess how the girls feel about me or ever had to fear they’d talk about me behind my back.
What I love about my friends is that we’re individuals. We can do our own thing. Be our own person. Always there for each other when needed. But not dependent on the others to define us.
Jaz walks through the halls with self-awareness, wearing confidence like a second skin. Darcy interacts with the world with unapologetic inquiry. And Danika dons unequivocal boldness with ease. Not trying to please anyone or get attention for the sake of difference.
Watching Livvy tonight, I realize she isn’t this.