Authors: Fabio Bueno
A carefully unshaved guy
,
wearing a
fedora hat
and a scarf, too cool even for Seattle, watches me, but he doesn’t
make a move. I try not to flirt
with anyone.
My new drink is very sweet but it doesn’t mask the insane amount of alcohol mixed in. At least it tastes good.
A few minutes later,
Priscilla and I are
o
n the dance floor. My glass is empty somewhere.
I dance with her, trying to create an impenetrable two-person circle. Priscilla does all the hard work with her sexy, crazy moves. I’m getting a no-touching version of her earlier lap dance. I just have to follow the rhythm and avoid tripping.
It
is
fun! People notice us, or at least, they notice me next to Priscilla. The lights
are
trippy, the music not so loud anymore, and
the previously stale smell of
liquor
and sweat now just feel
s
right.
I let it go, shaking my hips and shoulders, and making what I hope
look
like sexy faces. Some guys try to cut in, but Priscilla pulls them to her and talk
s
to them. Somehow, they leave us alone.
The
m
usic drowns my laughs, but my woo-
hoo
s
are already improving. The
re’s a familiar tingling sensation
that I can’t place at first. It increases steadily, but I’m too busy with my new persona to take notice. Only when it’s so strong that I can’t push it to the back of my mind anymore, I become alarmed.
I grab Priscilla’s arm
. “Jane!
” I yell.
Pr
iscilla looks at me quizzically
but only asks if I’m okay. I look around, dazzling lights blinding me, waves of faces popping up in the crowd, but I don’t see Jane.
The tingling intensity now indicates close proximity. A girl with
short, dark hair
, pierced eyebrows,
and
black
make
-
up is right in front of me, smiling.
She is gorgeous.
She gives a weak wave with one
hand while discreetly drawing a
triangle
in the air with her other hand’s pinkie. Nobody does that by accident.
“Hey, Sister!”
s
he yells. And
hugs
me.
Priscilla stands back,
amused
. My arms are along
side
my body.
But with my head resting
briefly
on her shoulder, I can see a silver moon tattooed on the back of her neck.
The
goth
girl lets me go. “I’m at Ballard High. Where are you?”
“
Greenwood
High,” I say in her ear.
“Any luck?”
I shake my head.
She takes a cell from her mini-purse and hands it to me. She cups her hand around my ear. “I’m Greta. Punch your phone number. I’ll call
you,
and you’ll have mine.” When I look at her trying to decide if I should trust her, she adds, “
We
’ve got to
stick together.
I hate that jerk
Connor
. Tried to hook up with me. Can you believe that guy?”
That will
do it. I type my number—not an easy task when you’re
drunk and in the middle of a dance floor. I hand
her
the cell bac
k. She smiles at me,
grabs my hand, pulls
it
to her lips, and kiss
es
the back of my hand
.
It’s an ancient, secret greeting no Sister uses anymore.
“Goddess be with you,” she mouths
the words
to me. Then
she leaves in the sea of
partying people
, her Allure dragging some stares her way.
“She’s cute,” Priscilla shouts.
“
R
eally cute.”
“Shut
up
!” I shout back. Uh-oh, I’m shut
-
up
p
ing people now.
***
Next thing I know, Priscilla is driving me home. But she
stops
close to a huge “Park closes at dusk” sign.
I have no idea where we are.
“Let’s go,” she says coming out of the Prius.
I’m too buzzed to protest. We walk a little and squee
ze between the closed gates of the
park. She grabs my hand, guiding me in the darkness. When we’re on the other side of the lot, she produces a mini-flashlight. She leads me to the edge of a lake. Something, maybe the moonlight, makes it not so dark anymore.
She lays her flashlight down, still turned on, on a boulder near us. “Take off y
our clothes,” she commands. “We
’re going skinny-dipping.”
She takes her jacket off, but stops mid-movement when she sees I’m not mimicking her. “
Do you prefer to do it alone?” s
he asks. “I don’t even have to look if you don’t want to.”
“You already saw me
naked
at school, remember?” I say. When I hear myself, I realize how silly my
inhibitions
are. I also understand I
need
to do this. No way I’m letting Jane’s trap make me feel a victim.
I can’t let her dictate my life.
I
am in control.
Taking off my jacket, I say, “Feel free to join me.”
She giggles and undresses. I
can’t help
sneak
ing
a peek.
Her breasts are indeed perfect. I feel a little jealous. I look away and try to concentrate on unbuttoning my jeans.
Soon I’m out of my clothes too. Only when the chilly night air hits me, I
have doubts. “It’s cold.
”
“
Let’s
go
!” s
he says, running toward the cold water.
“The head has to go in or it doesn’t count.”
It’s not deep enough to dive, so she
goes thigh deep
and immerses herself for a second.
She’s already coming out of the water, trembling, when I muster the courage. The icy lake water hits my feet, but before it can scare me away, I’m up to
my knees. No backing off now. I
dive.
The dark waters engulf me. My hands feel the muddy bottom of the lake for a second, algae entwining in my fingers.
My body becomes numb and weightless.
It’s a primal
thing
. The Sisters would approve
.
I cleanse myself and all
my concerns about
nakedness and water abandon me. All the fear
s
Jane tried to instill on me are gone. I fe
e
l indeed like a new Skye. The sensory deprivation experience is actually liberating.
But I resurface soon. “It’s bloody freezing!” I yell. I start to come out of the water, but I see a still naked Priscilla holding
my
cell phone in front of her.
“
Say cheese
,” she say
s. “It’s just for you. You’ve got to
remember this.”
It actually sounds good to me. I
strike
a Victoria’s Secret pose, taking care to hide my private parts.
My silver
phoenix
tattoo reflects the moonlight and shines.
Priscilla snaps a picture, looks at the result, and gives me a thumbs-up.
Soon both of us are
getting dressed
as fast as we can, our bodies still wet, our feet still muddy. We would be giggling if our teeth weren’t
chattering.
With o
ur shoes
in hand
, we rush back to the car.
We close the doors, and she turns the heat on. Then we
look at each other and
start
laughing
hysterically
.
“That was insane!” I scream.
“But also a great cure for
drunkenness
!”
she
shouts. “Woo-
hoo
!”
It’s my turn. I belt
out
the greatest, most satisfying
, guilty-free
woo-
hoo
of my life.
T
he temperature is
ridiculously low. I thought
it would
be a good idea bringing Skye to Green Lake again on
what promised to be
a sunny day, but Seattle’s deceptive weather
—
and
deceptive weathermen—
tricked me once again.
Instead of
having a blas
t, we’re huddled together on a bench,
trying to survive the morning chilliness.
Despite the cold, the park is busy: mothers
push
jog
ging
strollers, dogs take their owners for a stroll, a father chases after a runaway kid on a
scooter
, men fish on the pier.
Two middle-aged women
holding hands walk by
.
To my left, on a nearby bench, a young guy works on his laptop and sips coffee.
We are
halfway between the trail and the busy Green Lake Drive behind us
. City and lake
sounds merge.
Above us,
gloomy
clouds.
This is Seattle, al
l
right.
“
I need a nickname
for
you,” Skye tells me dreamily.
She’s resting her head on my shoulder.
I’m
unsure if I should divulge it. N
evertheless
,
I say, “The guys call me D-Man.”
“I can call you D-
Licious
.”
“Please don’t.”
I hate this
weather. I could be feeling her body against mine, but we’re
wrapped in
heavy coats. We need to go indoors
pronto
.
I look back longingly to the appropriately brown-colored chocolate store on the other side of the street. I’m about to suggest we head there when
she
says, “Drake?”
“Yep?”
She turns to
face
me, blushing. “I have a surprise for you…”
“What?”
“Aren’t you curious about what Priscilla and I did last night?”
I shudder. “You got
nipple piercings
? Like, matching
piercings
?”
“No!” She punches me weakly in the arm. But then she looks down, and I can see she’s imagining
it
.
Did
I g
ive her an idea?
“Hello?” I say. “Surprise?”
“Yeah, right. You’ve got to
promise
me
you won’t tell anyone.”
I raise my eyebrows. “This is getting better and better.”
She gives me a glimpse of a picture on her cell. I must be imagining things. I grab her
wrist and say, “Let me take a better look.”
She pulls her hand back, laughing. “No!” But she slowly loses
the
tug-of-war—willingly.
The
image
is little grainy. It shows Skye, completely naked, on the edge of a lake, at night. “Skye!”
“Are you mad?”
she
asks
, still giggling.
“Of course! You should have used the flash!” I want to make a poster of it.
“Send it to me.” She shakes her head. “Come on…”
“Only if you send me one of you.
”
“No way!” I
protest
.
She lets out a hearty laugh.
“Ah, well played,
”
I say.
She makes a little curtsy.
“You are a different girl,” I say.
“Bad different?”
“Just different.”
She takes the cell from my hands, and it pains me to let it go. “It’s
thanks to you,” she says. “And Priscilla.”