I couldn't even feel her palm slap mine. I was too much in shock. A triple pirouette. When I couldn't even do a proper single a week ago. It was an honest-to-goodness miracle.
At the end of pre-drill class, I floated downstairs, feeling like one of those Mylar balloons, all light and shiny, while I got dressed then walked over to the cafeteria for lunch. No doubt my cheeks would hurt tomorrow from the force of my smile. But I couldn't stop myself. Today, for the first time ever, I had been every bit as good as the experienced dancers in my class. Not only had I succeeded in performing a triple pirouette, but I'd also finally gone all the way down to the floor in my splits, and my split leaps had all landed without a single thud or shake of the room. Still better, my wimpy high kicks, once only up to chest level, had nearly hit me in the face today. And hadn't hit anyone else for a change. Even the experienced dancers in the class had seemed impressed by my improvement. And now that I wasn't such a failure at it, dancing was fun!
This freak had finally learned some dance skills, maybe even good enough to make the Charmers dance team next month, if I was crazy enough to audition. Ha! Let the Clann sense these emotions!
"Hey, girls," I greeted my friends as I dropped my backpack at our table in the cafeteria. I glanced at them, my face stuck in a broad grin. "Let me grab some food and I'll be right back to hear what I missed last week."
No one replied, but I didn't give them much time to before I hurried to join the food line. The lunchroom was packed as usual, but apparently sensing others' emotions only happened when I was upset, because I felt nothing now except my own pure joy. Which only made me happier.
Finally, I'd managed not to be a total klutz at something! Maybe I should try out for the Charmers. Making the dance team was pretty much an instant passport to popularity in Jacksonville, or at least a huge social upgrade. And getting to dance all the time would be a total blast.
Lost in thought, I didn't realize at first that the boy directly ahead of me in the slow-moving line was smiling at me. Surprised, I smiled back, though I didn't recognize him, then blushed and looked down.
"Hi, I'm Greg Stanwick." He grabbed a mint-green tray from the stack then offered me one, as well.
"Oh, hey. I'm Savannah." I hadn't planned on getting the lunch of the day since I usually had pizza or chili cheese fries instead. Then again, maybe I should eat something healthy for a change and reward my body for all its amazing improvements in pre-drill. "Um, thanks."
Greg seemed to take that as encouragement. "So, what grade are you in?"
"Ninth."
"Eleventh for me. Hey, do you ever go to the soccer games?"
I shook my head.
"Well, you should really think about seeing some. We've got a killer team this year. Four-time champions. I should know, I'm on the varsity team." His smile was a few watts too bright, reminding me of a game-show host. And he was only a few inches taller than me, putting him somewhere around five-nine or -ten. But overall he was kind of hot, with short black hair and soft brown eyes that reflected warmth from his smile.
I realized Greg was still talking and tried to look interested as he chatted about his soccer team and all the ways they were training hard for another winning season.
"Maybe we'll run into each other again," he said as we paid for our food.
"Um, sure. Nice meeting you."
"Nice meeting you, too, Savannah." But he didn't turn away. Instead, he stood there watching me. I could feel his gaze on me as I returned to my table.
Okay, that was weird but sort of nice. Guys never paid any attention to me. Maybe it was the bigger boob size?
I set down my tray and sat.
Suddenly, I felt someone standing next to me.
I looked up and found Greg grinning down at me.
"Hey," he said. "I forgot to mention, we've got a home game this Friday, if you want to come watch. It'll start at six at the Tomato Bowl."
Total silence, not only at our table, but at all the surrounding tables, too, made my cheeks burn. The unwanted attention had to be because of Greg, because I wasn't exactly on anyone's social radar around here.
I blinked a few times and struggled to think of a reply. Then I remembered. "Um, that sounds like fun. But I have a dance recital that night. So...maybe next time?"
Greg looked away for a moment. At the same time, goose bumps and a prickling sensation raced up my arms and across the back of my neck. Someone must have cranked up the air-conditioning or something. Shivering, I rubbed my arms.
When Greg looked back down at me, his smile wasn't quite as blinding. "Yeah, sure. Next time." Then he walked away.
I cringed, hoping I hadn't hurt his feelings. Though why he'd care if I came to one of his games or not was beyond me.
I glanced at my friends and grinned. Their shocked expressions matched how I felt. "Did that just happen?" I asked, a short laugh slipping out.
Silence at our table, even as the other nearby tables recovered.
In the continuing silence from my friends, I leaned forward and looked more closely at them. "Um, hello? Anyone care to comment on that?"
Yeesh. Yes, it was true that boys never talked to me, and definitely none had ever made a point to come up to me during lunch. But my friends were acting like he'd also jumped up on the table and performed a song and dance for us or something. I'd never seen them all this speechless at the same time. I had the strong urge to snap my fingers under their noses just to bring them back to planet Earth.
I met Anne's stare first, then Carrie's, then Michelle's. Without fail, each girl's eyes widened as I met their gazes. Okay, this was getting weirder by the moment.
"Look at me." Anne's command, an echo of Dad's demanding tone on Saturday, reminded me of my changed appearance. And of the crazy family secrets I wanted to forget as quickly as possible.
"Oh, yeah." My good mood faded. "I forgot, you haven't seen how weird I look." Now Anne would tell me what an imaginative idiot I was and how I looked the same as I always did.
Her eyebrows drew together. "You don't look weird. But you do look different, that's for sure. What'd you do to your hair? It looks like a flippin' Garnier commercial. Did you get it colored? It's not so orange now. And it's...poufy."
Oh. So maybe I hadn't imagined the changes in my appearance.