Yeah, sure.
The algebra boys didn't bother me anymore, so I could actually focus on prepping for my studio's dance recital at the end of the week. Not that I needed as much practice as before, now that my dancing was quickly improving. Still, I wanted to be sure I did the best I could at the recital. If I could blow away my family with my dancing, maybe they'd quit watching me all the time when they thought I didn't notice. If I could be good at something for a change, then maybe it would show them that I was normal, after all. Not a freak. Just a regular teen doing something she really had fun doing.
The only thing that continued to bug me was Greg. I couldn't tell if I'd gaze dazed him, too, or not. He hadn't spoken to me again since Monday. And the few times I saw him in the cafeteria later in the week, he always looked away with a frown.
Boys were just plain weird.
Including Tristan, because he'd started acting differently all week, too. It was like the wall that separated us in my frequent dreams about him had stretched out to divide us in my waking life, as well. Even with my senses wide-open, I couldn't feel his magnetic tug anymore when we were in algebra class together. And while I'd never thought it possible before, I missed having his legs and feet at either side of me now that he'd started to keep them folded under his desk. I also missed the way he used to whistle Nutcracker music to annoy me. And the way he used to stare at me in the cafeteria. Lately, he'd started skipping lunch, choosing to stand outside against a tree near the picnic tables instead. I caught myself searching for him in his new spot as my friends and I left the cafeteria each day. Some crazy part of me yearned to make eye contact with him, to see if he could be gaze dazed, too. But he always kept his eyes closed. My head said that was a good thing. My heart said something else.
And then there were all the other little things that added up to make the hours at school long and lonely. I still had my friends, but not being able to make eye contact with anyone made me feel like I was cut off from the world around me. Even weirder was the Red Sea effect that happened every time I walked through the halls. It was subtle, but people moved away from me as if I had something contagious they didn't want to catch. Worse, they didn't even seem aware that they were doing it.
But why? I didn't feel that different from before I got sick.
The one good thing that came out of it all was my continued progress in dance. Because of those improvements, dancing had become my one relief. When the music played, I got lost in it. For a few precious minutes, I could forget the craziness, the family secrets, all the weirdness that set me apart from everyone around me. When I danced, not only was I no longer a freak or an embarrassment, but I was actually good at something. And getting better at it every day.
So deciding to try out for the Charmers Dance/Drill Team was sort of natural. Where else would I ever fit in at this school, unless it was among other dancers? If I became a Charmer, I wouldn't be a freak anymore. The Charmers were like mini celebrities, not just at our school but in Jacksonville, too, because of all the awards they won every winter at dance competitions. Every time they brought home another trophy, they were featured on the front page of the Jacksonville Daily News, earning our school's and entire town's approval.
If I made the team, I would get to be a part of all that, and I'd be doing something I loved while I was at it.
But first, I had another approval to earn...Dad's. If being a great dancer didn't do it, I didn't know what would.
So when he called on Wednesday to check up on me, I took the biggest risk of my life so far.
Suddenly nervous, I played with the laces on my sneakers and tried to be patient as we went through our usual list of questions about school. A long pause filled the conversation after a while, and I spotted my opening.
"Um, Dad? You know how I've been taking dance lessons this year?"
"Yes?" His voice had turned cautious, like he was bracing for bad news.
Even more nervous now, I hesitated, forced my tight chest to expand and take a deep breath, then pushed the words out fast. "Well, the studio is having its annual dance recital this weekend and I'd really love it if you could come." Please say yes, please, I chanted in my head, holding my breath in the dead silence that followed.
Why didn't he say something?
"Dad?" I whispered, my voice tiny. Oh, crap. He was going to say no, that he couldn't make it, just like when I played volleyball, and basketball, and ran at the junior-high track meets....
More silence.
Finally he spoke. "I suppose it is time that I come see how you have progressed. Give me the details and I will be there."
Yes! Grinning, I told him the recital's date, time and location, then gave him quick directions to the local junior college's theater where the show would be held.
"Hey, you might even be surprised by how good I've gotten," I joked, excitement making me relax and be myself more than I usually was around him.
Silence.
Okaaay. Did he doubt my judgment about my own dancing? Or was he simply not looking forward to sitting through a recital in general?
I'd just have to make sure my performance impressed him enough to make attending worth the effort.
Two days later, I joined my ballet class in the dark wings of Lon Morris College's theater. Finally, the night I had been working so hard for all year long was here. Now was my chance to prove that having me wasn't the biggest mistake my parents had ever made.
The three-year-olds were wrapping up their cute version of the Sugar Plum Fairy dance from The Nutcracker. A sudden memory of Tristan whistling the tune made me smile and my eyes burn a bit. I blinked away the unexpected sensation. Better to think about something else. Like the people who were in the audience waiting for me to dance.
My friends couldn't come to the show. They had volleyball tryouts tomorrow morning and needed to practice this evening. Plus, their parents wanted them to go to bed early so they would be rested for their early start. Though I was sort of irritated, I also tried to understand their point of view. Volleyball was everything to them, just like dancing was for me now. So I'd faked yet another smile for their sakes and wished them good-luck.
But there were three people somewhere in those dark rows of seats who had been able to come and cheer for me. I just hoped I didn't screw up and disappoint them yet again.
The spotlights dimmed, and polite clapping sounded from the audience while mothers volunteering as stage crew herded the giggling girls offstage and into the wings.