| Last Time | Time Before |
It was obvious that no one had taken any time to decorate the gym. No streamers hanging from the ceiling or attached to the walls. No funky construction paper flowers taped up. Not even some asinine archway to walk under when the people entered. Even the room where the pictures had been taken wasn’t really decorated. A few potted plants on stools and a sky blue sheet were, apparently, all the items needed to create a memory that would last a life time.
There was only one thing that could be considered a decoration, and that was the DJ’s booth. Spinning, colored lights, pointing in all possible directions, covered the aluminum frame. Blues, greens, oranges, purples, reds, and yellows were thrown from the booth, splashing on the ceiling, the walls, the floor, and people. It also had a machine right in the center of it which periodically sprayed a toxic cloud that had a sharp smell to it and left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth. Ada hoped that it would sterilize most of the people dancing there tonight. She knew that most of them would try to breed, but if there was a God, he, or she, would stop the production of sperm in most of the guys, and make the eggs in most of the girls go rotten. Especially in that Debbie.
“Stupid Debbie,” Ada muttered.
“What?” asked Derrick, who was standing right next to her.
They had stopped, just outside the circle that Chip was in.
“Why did we stop?” asked Ada.
“What?” he asked again.
“I said, ‘Why did we stop?’”
“I d-don’t know. I was right behind you and, you know, you stopped and started l-looking at the l-lights and the people. Sort of like you were h-hypnotized. I s-something wrong?”
“No,” Ada said, searching the circle of people for Chip. “I just got distracted. Look, there’s a gap other there.” She grabbed Derrick’s hand, again, and yanked him. The hole in the circle was only two people, a football drone and brunette bimbo, away from Chip. Ada knew that they had to rush to fill the hole before it closed in on itself. She jerked Derrick’s arm harder as she picked up the pace.
A hard, fast song was being played when Ada gave the football guy a bump with her butt to show that she had claimed this area for herself and, soon, the man of her dreams.
She let go of Derrick’s hand and turned to look at Chip. This close, she saw small beads of sweat glistening in different colors as the lights passed over him. It looked like his forehead was projecting a rainbow.
Ada sighed, closed her eyes, and started to move with the music. She began with her hips: left, right, left, right, over and over. Then she shuffled her feet in time to her hips: left, right, left, right. Her arms swayed with her feet and hips. Everything on her body was moving together, but not in time with the hard thumping of the music. She opened her eyes and looked around at the people. No one was really dancing. Very few were in time with the beat. No one would notice her rhythmic flaw.
Chip was dancing just as poorly as everyone else in the circle, in short, sharp jerks. The problem with his flailing was that it was against Debbie. His legs touched hers. His pelvis rubbed against hers. His hands copped quick feels of her arms, her hips, her breasts. And Debbie flashed her huge, bleached smile his direction with each touch, taking those opportunities to touch his arms, his face, his chest. Debbie easily touched him in all the ways Ada had only dreamed about touching him. The slut would probably ruin Ada’s sunrise by doing even more touching with Chip in the morning.
Ada flushed and turned away. Derrick had started to dance too. His dancing was more smooth than the rest of the dancing fools. Everyone else moved like a beginning piano student, in starts and stops, sometimes hard, sometime soft, but no technique, all staccato. Derrick moved as if he were Art Tatum at the piano, playing all the range of sounds, seamlessly moving up and down the scales, hard when it was necessary and soft just to keep the listener excited, sliding around like a smooth slur. He looked almost beautiful as he slid from a fo-Charleston to some hip-hop move he learned from watching music videos.
Ada was only marginally surprised by Derrick’s gracefulness. She knew that he had taken dance lessons at both of the studios in town since he was five years old. He had taken them all--tap, jazz, ballet, hip-hop, square, folk, even ballroom--and, with the exception of ballet, had mastered them. Now he taught the hip-hop class at one studio and the jazz class at the other, trying to get little kids to move in a way that’s not running in circles and trying to convince fat old ladies that they can be graceful as they jiggle around the floor. At his house, he taped music videos so he could dissect them and learn what people think is cool. Often, he complained about how simple the moves pop-stars did were and would say that James Brown could teach them a thing or two about pop-choreography, since they were all ripping him off anyway.
Sometimes, Ada didn’t understand why Derrick was afraid of dancing in public. He said he was afraid of making a fool of himself, but she knew he could do it and look wonderful on stage. When he had to perform, he closed his eyes so he didn’t have to see the people. His focus was on the music and his feet. He trusted his feet to take him where he needed to be, and so far they always had.
She looked at his face and saw that even now, his eyes were closed, but he wasn’t coming anywhere near hitting her or the guy next to his other side. Ada grinned because he looked so content just letting the music push the motions through his body. He looked amazing.
“Let’s slow things down a bit,” the DJ said and the music shifted to some crappy slow pop song.
Derrick’s eyes snapped open. He looked at Ada, took her right hand in his left, put his right in the small of her back, and urged her to move with him. She looked at him, uncertain.
“I’m sorry if I step on your feet,” she said.
“Little lady,” he said, making his voice as deep as he could, “let your mind go, and your body will follow.”
She put her left hand on his shoulder and closed her eyes.
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