“Good eve to you, stranger,” I say. “Have you seen this young lady’s father, perchance?”
“Ava!” Artie exclaims. “That is Daddy. Look at his silly chin!”
“No, surely not,” I gasp, pressing my hand to my bosom. “Unmask yourself, sir!”
“It is, indeed, I!” Forrest says, removing his mask.
“What infamy is this!” I say, pretending to be shocked, and Forrest smiles so warmly at me that I can feel the heat rising in bits of me that would be unladylike to mention.
“Oh, Ava, you are very silly.” Artie gurgles with giggles. “Let’s go see the ballroom! Megan, Poppy, Lucy, and you boys, come on. We’re going to see the ballroom.”
Glancing back at Hal, I give him a wave as Artie organises her people into where she wants them to be.
Looking up, I see Forrest watching us. He’s smiling with quiet pride. The love he has for Artie catches at my heart. It’s a truly beautiful thing.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“I know exactly what you mean,” I tell Megan, and she leans on my shoulder, earnestly explaining to me the problem with the world. “And are you sure that’s just orange juice?”
“Yeah, it’s just orange juice,” Megan says, offended. Taking the glass from her, I taste a sip and she’s not lying. “I was just dancing and I had ideas and I wanted to tell you about them!”
“I apologise,” I say. “Talk away.”
Up until a minute ago Megan and her friends were leading the dancing, but they drew the line at Abba, and so now it’s Sasha, Rani, and LadyB holding forth on the dance floor with sublime gusto.
Alex has stood in the corner all night nursing one drink, and looking deeply thoughtful and kind of sad. Forrest and River have never stopped dancing with Artie, and Hal and I have watched.
“Will you not dance?” Hal asked. “I’d love to dance with you, but I only know classical ballroom, Latin, and jive. I did not prepare for this... joyful flinging around of limbs.”
“That’s just letting the music move you,” I told him. “I love dancing, but when I let the music move me, people get injured, usually,but not exclusively, by me. And I know there are only twenty of us in the ballroom, but I reckon it’s still too much of a risk.”
“What I’m saying”—Megan is telling me, earnestly and loudly enough to be heard over the band—“is how do I know what I want to be, unless someone shows me what’s possible? Forrest showed me that stuff like poetry and art is for everyone, not just posh people. But what else is there, Ava? How do I find out what I’m good at?”
“That’s a good question,” I tell her. “When I was growing up there was no one around to show me that a girl like me could be a coder, let alone a computer scientist. The concept of an AI architect didn’t even exist yet, and that’s what I am now. There are some careers or talents that are much easier to find if you come from a certain background or are born a boy.”
“Posh backgrounds.” Megan nods, gesturing at the ballroom. “Like this one.”
“It doesn’t hurt,” I say. “But very few people live in literal castles.”
“So how did you know that you were a computer genius then?” Megan asks. “Did you have someone like Forrest come and show you?”
“No,” I say, glancing at Hal, who is listening too. “I wish. It would have been much nicer. Honestly, I was unpopular at school. At break I would hide in the computer room. I taught myself a lot of stuff just by messing around. It started there and ended here. So really being miserable and a social outcast got me where I am today.”
“I’d rather have Forrest,” Megan says.
“Me too,” I say, before I know what I’ve said. “What I mean is, I’d rather have had someone like Forrest than finding my calling through unhappiness.”
Megan suppresses a grin and gives Hal a look. Then the music changes.
“Hey, team!” The lead singer speaks into the mic. “Thanks so much for putting us through our paces. We’re gonna practice the bride and groom’s first dance song now, so if anyone fancies a nice slow dance to ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love,’ by the king, Elvis Presley, that’d be awesome. And er... Whoo!”
Naturally, Artie and Forrest are first on the floor, as the first bars chime. Before I know it, Hal has taken my hand and swept me onto the dance floor with a swirl of my skirts.
“It’s a waltz,” Hal says, one hand on the small of my back, the other holding my hand in a classic ballroom stance. “I know how to waltz.”
“But I don’t,” I tell him anxiously. As we begin to make our way around the dance floor, I screw my eyes shut, like I’m on a roller coaster or something.
“Ava,” Hal says softly into my ear. “Open your eyes and take a look. You might not know how to waltz, but you are doing it right now.”
