Playing with Matches (13 page)

23

DANCIN’ FOOL

T
he student council seemed to think that streamers and balloons could transform our gym into a magical paradise. Well, either paradise smelled like sweat and old socks, or it was still a gym.

By the time we arrived, people were already dancing. The DJ was blasting a song I didn’t recognize. It was about eighty degrees. Some couples stood awkwardly talking at the foul lines. Others—those who could dance—moved to the beat at half-court.

Dr. Bailey made the rounds, separating couples who got too close. Sr. Lopez Lopez danced rather impressively with his lovely Cuban wife. Mr. Hamburg was holding a conversation with an English teacher; his was the only voice we could hear above the noise.

Melody clutched my hand the second we walked into the gym. She didn’t care for social situations. Hell, I wasn’t exactly an expert myself.

Cafeteria tables festooned with ribbons were lined up by the bleachers. We made our way to a couple of empty seats. As I pulled out Melody’s chair, I looked around for a familiar face.

I saw Buttercup all dressed up but still snapping pictures of people in awkward poses. Bill was there, attempting to dance with a girl who was, in my opinion, way too hot for him. I noticed Dylan with some other jocks, laughing in a corner.

Melody caught sight of Samantha and waved hello. I was horrified to see that Samantha was accompanied by a six-foot-tall animatronic Ken doll. Only when they approached us did I realize this must be her mysterious boyfriend.

“Hey, guys!” said Samantha with a wave. She was dressed fancier than I’d ever seen her, but it was a wasted effort. The formal dress emphasized her angular features, and it looked like an undertaker had applied her makeup. She reminded me of someone’s unmarried great-aunt at a senior citizen’s ball.

“Ben, this is Leon and Melody. I told you about them.”
What did she tell him?
“Guys, this is my boyfriend, Ben.”

“Hey!” He grinned. I had gone to shake his hand, but he snapped his finger and pointed at me, leaving me with my hand stuck out like a dork. I wondered if his hair was real or just painted on.

“Nice to meet you, Ken.”

“Ben.”

“Sorry.”

“Say, Sammy!” crooned Ben. “I’ve gotta go check myself in the mirror. What say you get us some punch and I’ll be back, pronto!” He did the finger snap—point thing at us again. Samantha smiled in rapture as he left; then she walked off to the refreshment table.

I bit my lip to prevent myself from being a smart-ass. “He seems nice,” I managed to say.

“A real dream.” Melody had a twinkle in her eye. “I just hope Barbie doesn’t get jealous.” We both had a good laugh at Ben’s expense.

“So what’s Samantha doing dating Captain Hair Gel?” I asked. “I expected this guy to be a Nobel Prize—winning member of Amnesty International.”

“He’s good-looking. That can make up for a lot.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, being superficial, for instance, or dumb. Or not being able to golf.”

I took her by the arm. “Let’s dance.”

Now, I had always assumed that dancing was something that just happened naturally, like walking or breaking wind. The second we were on the dance floor, I realized I had no idea what to do. I just kind of stood there.

I think Melody misinterpreted my awkwardness.

“We don’t have to do this, Leon.” Her head began the familiar downward tilt toward her toes.

“No, it’s just…you know that stereotype that white people can’t dance? I’m afraid that’s my fault.”

Melody placed one of my hands on her hip and I grabbed the other one. We began to try to sync ourselves to the beat.

I thought I was doing okay. I really did. But when Melody had to remind me to move quickly when the music was quick, I realized it was hopeless. I looked like this guy I saw getting Tasered on TV.

“You’re doing fine, Leon.”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah,” she said, almost defiantly, “I do.”

“Bless you for lying.”

Mercifully, a slow number came on. The light show faded. For a few moments, we stood there, holding each other. Even in the semidarkness, I could trace her familiar scars. The ridge over her right eye. The way her upper and lower lips didn’t connect on one side.

I pulled her close and laid my head on her shoulder. That was nice. I liked the feel of her shoulders. We snuggled closer. I kissed her neck.

Right when the song ended, I brushed her cheek. And jolted away.

“Leon? Leon, are you okay?” The music was loud again; she almost had to shout.

“I’m fine. Just got to run to the bathroom.”

I rushed to the locker rooms. The reason I had to get away was that for a moment I’d forgotten who I was dancing with. And when I went to nuzzle Melody’s ear,
it wasn’t there
.

I hurried to a sink and splashed some water on my face. Why had that rattled me so much? I knew she’d lost her external ears in the fire. It was just…just a little weird.

“You look like you’ve seen the devil, Leon.”

I turned. “Hi, Dan.”

“You
haven’t
seen the devil, have you?”

“No.”

Dan was looking surprisingly dapper in his black tux, with black shirt and black tie. His long hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and he hadn’t drawn any visible tattoos on himself. He cleaned up nicely. Maybe his bosses were going to let him try his hand at soul acquisitions.

I combed my hair in the mirror. “Are you here with anyone, Dan?”

“When you’ve seen what I’ve seen, you’re never truly alone.” He glanced meaningfully over my shoulder before slithering out of the bathroom.

The conversation with Dan had taken my mind off Melody’s face.
Accentuate the positive, Leon. Think about the parts your girlfriend has, not the ones she’s missing.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed my shoulder. I remembered what Dan had said about his unseen companion, and yelped. When I looked in the mirror and saw Dylan’s reflection, I almost would have preferred a demon.

Dylan’s hair was newly cut; he’d shaved and was wearing a tuxedo. It somehow didn’t work; he reminded me of a prison inmate who’d been given new clothes upon release. He stared at my reflection with unsteady eyes.

We’d not spoken since the day I’d told him off after Spanish. I wondered if he’d forgotten the incident.

He belched and I smelled booze. He staggered a bit, then steadied himself on the sink. Maybe he wasn’t angry, just drunk.

“Leon?” He seemed to notice me for the first time. “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Fine. Who are you here with?”

Dylan reached into his jacket and pulled out a cheap whiskey flask. He took a slug and shuddered.

“Sonya. You know, from history class?”

Sonya, cute and athletic, was on the girls’ basketball team. I reflected that if I was her date, I wouldn’t be numbing myself with liquor.

“She’s nice.”

Dylan downed another shot. “Yeah. Do you have a date?”

“Melody Hennon,” I said pointedly, remembering what he’d said about her.

Dylan had been putting the cap back onto his flask. When I said Melody’s name, he paused. Then he winced.

“Uh, Leon, I…Sorry about what I said about her a while ago. I was just messing around. I didn’t know she was your girlfriend.”

Dylan looked so ashamed I had to remind myself he was the same guy who’d kicked my ass in sixth grade.

“It’s okay,” I said with a shrug. In an effort to appear manly, I grabbed his flask and took a swig. Big mistake. I’d never had hard liquor before, and the ensuing coughing fit was so intense I was afraid a teacher would come to investigate.

Dylan whacked me on the back several times. “You’re okay, buddy; just take a deep breath. There you go. Wipe off your mouth there. Here.” He gave me a box of Tic Tacs and I ate a handful.

“Feel better?”

“Yeah. It just hit me kind of hard.”

He pocketed the flask. “Get yourself a glass of punch and you’ll feel fine.” He placed his hand on the door. “Oh, and Amy Green asked me if I’d seen you. I think she’s looking for you.”

A slow song was playing when I left the restroom. I searched for Melody. To my horror, she was dancing with Dan. She didn’t look frightened, though. I guessed he hadn’t told her about his human-tooth collection.

So Amy was looking for me? Good. Now would be the time to prove my loyalty to Melody. I’d talk to Amy, maybe even ask her to dance, but nothing more. Our kiss had been a mistake.

I smelled Amy before I saw her. That same perfume that drowned out the gas leak in the chemistry lab. I turned.

Looking at Amy, I realized what God had in mind when he’d removed Adam’s rib. This was what all women were supposed to be like.

Amy’s dress was poufy and blue. While I knew nothing about these things, I could tell it was a lot more expensive than Melody’s. It was also cut much lower in the front. She wore almost no makeup, just enough to accentuate her perfect features. Her hair was up; in fact, it was stacked so high that it seemed to defy gravity. Amy looked great before. Now, in her dress and makeup, she was a queen. A goddess. And suddenly, I knew that it would take a lot more than big talk for me to remember that Melody was the girl in my life.

“Hello, Leon.”

Down, boy! Heel!
“Hi.”

“You look handsome.” If she was being sarcastic, it didn’t show.

“So do you! I mean—”
Damn it!

“Do you think Melody would mind if we danced?”

Who?
I glanced around the dance floor. Dan was now dancing with Buttercup, and I couldn’t see Melody anywhere. Maybe she’d gone to the bathroom.

If I was stiff with Melody, I had rigor mortis with Amy. I thought back to the previous weekend, when we’d kissed and I’d lied to her about Melody. I now remembered why I had lied.

Like a man losing his eyesight, I tried to memorize every detail of what I saw. Amy’s long, dangling earrings. (She could wear earrings.) The red lipstick on her perfect lips. The freckles on her shoulders…and lower.

We moved jerkily. I had a feeling that she was a much better dancer, but fortunately she allowed me to lead. Halfway through the song, she leaned in and whispered in my ear.

“You never called me.”

So she hadn’t said that on a whim. She wanted me to call her. Amy wanted me to call her!

“I’m sorry. I’ve been kind of…”

Amy grinned but didn’t pull away. “It’s okay. Are you and Melody having fun?”

“Yeah.”
Fun. Lots and lots of fun.

“You know, I kind of wish—” She suddenly stopped.

“What?”

She leaned her head into mine, until our cheeks were touching. I could feel her ear. “I’m here alone. I kind of wish I was here with you.”

I flashed back to every lonely Friday night, every dance I hadn’t gone to, every pathetic hour I’d spent pining over Amy. And apparently, all I’d had to do was ask. But like the dork I was, I waited. I waited until her parents were in the middle of a divorce, and then I went and got involved with Melody.

I pulled Amy just a little closer. “I wish that too.” We danced in silence for a few moments. I could feel the curve of her back through the fabric of her dress.

The music ended and Amy pulled her head away. “You need to get back to Melody.” There was something in her voice that implied that Melody was a pity date and I was being forced to spend time with her.

“Yeah,” I sighed, with obvious regret.

We didn’t separate. “Seriously. Call me. Let’s get together.”

“I’ll do that.”

We held each other for another second. Then she turned and walked away. Numbly, I searched out Melody.

Where the hell was Amy a month ago? She moves from my fantasies to reality just a couple of weeks too late.

I felt like an asshole for thinking that. Here was Melody, dressed up, for me, having a great time. And the next weekend, she was planning on letting me…

Why now, Amy? You knew I liked you. Why now?

“Leon? Are you okay?” It was Melody. She was looking at me with deep concern. I tried to smile at her, tried to see how beautiful she was, with her wig and dress and perfume. How she’d made herself beautiful for me.

I couldn’t see it anymore. She was ugly again. She was the reason I couldn’t have Amy. She was the one who was trapping me, the one who was keeping me from my dreams.

“I’m fine,” I said, with a fake smile. “C’mon.”

We danced a few more numbers, but no slow ones. We chatted with Samantha, with Dylan and his date, with Buttercup. I wanted to have fun, wanted Melody to have fun. It was like trying to enjoy the band on the
Titanic.
Letting Melody become more than a friend was the biggest mistake I’d ever made. I had been this close—
this close
—to hooking up with Amy. But I’d settled. I wound up with a girl I wasn’t attracted to because I convinced myself I could never do any better. And the whole time, Amy had been waiting for me to ask her out.

When Melody and I stood for our picture, the photographer had to take three shots before he captured me with a believable smile.

I suffered through one final slow dance. Melody held me tight. I should have kissed her. I should have whispered sweet nothings into her ear canal. But I couldn’t. I was actually angry with her. She’d ruined my dreams.

When the houselights came up, Dylan and Sonya cornered us.

“Hey, guys. A bunch of us are getting together at my place. Want to come?” I couldn’t tell if he was being genuinely friendly or just trying to make up for insulting Melody.

“We can’t,” I replied before Melody could say anything. “Melody has to be back by midnight.”

Dylan clapped me on the back and staggered off. I was glad to see Sonya fishing her keys out of her purse; she was driving.

I calmed down considerably on the way home. Melody didn’t say anything, and I managed to decompress a little. Things were going to be okay. Things were going to be fine. Maybe I could talk to Melody later in the week. Tell her that things were getting a bit too serious. She’d said before that we could just be friends. Maybe I’d take her up on that. Of course, she’d said that long before I’d removed her shirt.