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“It’s Wednesday,” I remind him and he turns back to glance at me.
“I know.” He shrugs.
“You have practice,” I try again.
“Exactly. You should hurry so I’m not too late and Coach has to make a big deal about it.” He snaps his fingers and I can see the humor in his eyes, which only confuses me more.
Quickly, I reach into my locker and grab my bag and the two textbooks I need for homework tonight and stuff them inside. I grab my jacket next and slide it on before shouldering the bag. Without a word to me, Corey starts to walk toward the front doors. I have to walk fast to keep up with him. I’m taller for my age, but Corey moves fast. He waves to people when they call out to him. A few guys walking into the school ask where he’s going and he tips his head at me in answer. A few guys smirk at me and I fight not to curl my lip in disgust back at them. The attention is unsettling and not something I’m used to, even after a month of being by Corey’s side.
“Try to relax, J,” he snickers at me, his hand reaching out to pull my body closer to his.
“I just don’t want to make you late. You made it very clear you couldn’t walk me home after a month. I don’t get it,” I explain, stepping an inch away from him, only to have his hand reach out and pull me back in.
“Look, the way I see it, Jackson is always going to have a grudge against you. Time really doesn’t matter. Plus, I don’t know,” he shrugs and looks at me under his blond lashes, “I thought we were friends. Isn’t this what friends should do?”
I peek up at him, and see the slight redness to his cheeks. “Are we friends?”
Corey blows out his breath, his eyes on the landscape around us as we get closer to the crosswalk. “I sort of thought we were. Walking to school, talking, you’re a cool chick and all.”
My head bobs in response. I guess there is nothing that necessarily defines a friend. Isn’t it just sort of something that happens? You have things in common with a person, their personality doesn’t suck, so you become friends.
“Why were you crabby yesterday then?”
He sighs, and his hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. “I was stressed about a class. Plus, you kept saying this was the last time and how I’ll probably never talk to you again. I don’t know, it made me mad.”
“I’m cool with being friends.” I turn to him and catch a lazy smile on his lips.
Corey asks about my dance practice and I tell him what I’m working on for the winter show during the rest of our walk into town. It’s only a mile, but it feels like it takes forever this time. Soon, the colorful, neon sign comes into view.
“I can cross the road on my own.” I shrug my shoulders. “You should hurry and go back. I’ll be fine right here.”
Corey glances around the block and sees it's mostly empty. Only a few moms and their younger daughters are running into the studio. A few cars travel toward the grocery store a stoplight down.
“Okay,” he finally agrees. “Promise me though, if anything weird happens, you’ll let me know. Next time I’ll just walk you in.”
“You really need to hurry and leave,” I remind him but find myself smiling anyway. My smile catches his attention and time seems to slow down for a few minutes. A car alarm in the distance startles us both.
“See you later, J,” Corey calls before running back toward the school. I swallow down the nervousness in my throat and cross the street once the light flashes that I can.
Once I step into Patti’s, my body relaxes and I feel like myself again. Being with Corey makes me nervous. Not in a bad way. Since I usually don’t talk to guys or anyone for that matter, having Corey around is foreign to me. Now that he wants to be friends, I feel at a loss on how to handle myself.
After waving hello to Carlene, the receptionist, I find my locker and then make my way into the studio room. I stretch and feel my muscles start to warm up, the tension of the day leaving them. When I start to work through my routine, every other thought fades from my mind until it’s only the beat of the song and the counts that I focus on.
The group dances are quick and fun, and by the time I get to practice my solo, my body aches in the best of ways, and a slight sheen of sweat covers my skin. The winter recital is only three months away and competition season isn’t too far behind that. This time of the year always gives me an extra rush. Dance is more than a hobby. It’s the only thing that makes me feel really alive inside. When the lights dim in the room and our time is up, I feel the weight of reality seeping back in. I need to go home and tomorrow will start everything all over again.
* * *
SLAM!
My body jumps from the crack of the front door closing. Slightly disoriented, I sit up on the couch and grab my phone to look at the time. It’s quarter past one in the morning. My textbook slides off my lap and I finally remember that I was doing homework before falling asleep.
“Oh, shit.” My mom rounds the corner then comes to a dead stop, placing a hand over her heart. “Honey, you scared me. Why are you still awake? Why aren’t you in your room?”
“I fell asleep,” I tell her, rising and placing my schoolwork back on the coffee table. “I’ll go to my room.”
She nods her head, keeping her face averted as I walk by. I go into my room and close the door. The minute I hear the click, I can hear my mom’s muffled sob. Her feet shuffle as she heads to the bathroom. Something is wrong. I can feel it, like a sense of dread. My hand reaches for my door handle, and before I can stop myself, I’m standing in front of the bathroom door. She’s crying. Full-on, heart-wrenching sobs that blend in with the water running in the sink. I need to be brave. Taking in a deep breath, I look through the crack, my eyes adjusting to the thin glow of the bathroom lights.
“Mom…” The whimper leaves my mouth and her head snaps to the side.
