fingers and it changes into a penny. He covers a shot glass with his handkerchief, removes the handkerchiefâthe shot glass has evaporated into thin air! The partyers watch him, mocking smiles on their faces, skeptical. They only half believe what heâs doing is magic. Theyâve seen his tricksbefore. They know heâs an imposter and a con man. But at least for tonight, they want to believe. And they love him anyway! Dean is entertainment.
He finishes his act. People start dancing again, laughing and flirting in the shadows of the room. They go in and out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind them, busy in there.
Two figures drift together across my line of sight and block my vision. For a moment, I canât find either Dean or Melanie.
Then, thereâs a shriek of laughter from somewhere. The bodies in front of me part. And next thing I know, Dean is sitting on the futon, right up close to Melanie.
Heâs leaning in toward Melanie, saying something to her, and making her laugh. And Melanieâs bending her head down, listening intently to him, the side of her face hidden by her fine hair. And I can see Brian standing against the wall across from them pretending not to look, but knowing everything, seeing everything they do.
PART III
M Y P ROFOUND H EART
C HAPTER 14
MELANIE
At Chrissie Peckâs place that night, the new boy didnât even say hello to me. He just looked deep into my eyes. Didnât even introduce himself. As if heâd been waiting for me all along. âYou are beautiful,â he said, as if confirming something, as if he already knew all about me. So direct. So frank. He had oval eyes, I could see the light shining through the moist green lens, long, dark blond lashes with the pale tips curling on the high cheekbone. White teeth, ridges on them gleaming like white coral. I saw a soft brown mole above his upper lip, like a tiny patch of velvet.
âYou are beautiful,â he said again, as if satisfying himself. That was all.
And then, just as suddenly as heâd sat down beside me, he stood up from the futon, and he walked away.
And now there was a gap of air, a sudden, cool space. I felt weird. I wasnât used to being left at parties. There was always someone trying to talk to me.
The music beat through the crowded room. This wild heart . . . it beats for you . . . my wild heart . . . it weeps for you . . .
I tried to follow him with my eyes through the fumy red air, through the crowd of partyers. I tried to keep my eye on his thin, small frame in the loose jeans, the little tail of hair in the tender groove of his neck, the clunky cowboy boots. I always thought that magic tricks were hokey; you know the magic isnât real. Buthe was so fastâthe way his long, tapered fingers moved and you couldnât keep track of them. Everyone around here was such a bunch of dufuses, never did anything but drink and play computer games and watch TV and smoke dope. At least he could do something!
Chrissie Peckâs place was packed. No room hardly to dance or sit down. The green canvas blinds were drawn over the windows so no one could see in. People were standing on the landing in the hallway. Someone had brushed up against Chrissieâs Mariah Carey poster and torn it. Now it hung down from the wall at a weird angle, Mariah Careyâs face cut in half, one of her big eyes lopsided and staring out.
The smoky air stung my eyes. I glanced up and suddenly, Brian was standing right above me, very close. I hadnât seen him approach. He was leaning back against the wall, his eyes focused across the room, pretending he didnât even know I was there. And Jimmy was lounging next to him. As always, waiting for Brian to tell him what to do, attuned to Brianâs every need.
Brian pretended he just wanted to be my friend, just wanted to hang out. Heâd discovered there was a party at Chrissieâs place,
He finishes his act. People start dancing again, laughing and flirting in the shadows of the room. They go in and out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind them, busy in there.
Two figures drift together across my line of sight and block my vision. For a moment, I canât find either Dean or Melanie.
Then, thereâs a shriek of laughter from somewhere. The bodies in front of me part. And next thing I know, Dean is sitting on the futon, right up close to Melanie.
Heâs leaning in toward Melanie, saying something to her, and making her laugh. And Melanieâs bending her head down, listening intently to him, the side of her face hidden by her fine hair. And I can see Brian standing against the wall across from them pretending not to look, but knowing everything, seeing everything they do.
PART III
M Y P ROFOUND H EART
C HAPTER 14
MELANIE
At Chrissie Peckâs place that night, the new boy didnât even say hello to me. He just looked deep into my eyes. Didnât even introduce himself. As if heâd been waiting for me all along. âYou are beautiful,â he said, as if confirming something, as if he already knew all about me. So direct. So frank. He had oval eyes, I could see the light shining through the moist green lens, long, dark blond lashes with the pale tips curling on the high cheekbone. White teeth, ridges on them gleaming like white coral. I saw a soft brown mole above his upper lip, like a tiny patch of velvet.
âYou are beautiful,â he said again, as if satisfying himself. That was all.
And then, just as suddenly as heâd sat down beside me, he stood up from the futon, and he walked away.
And now there was a gap of air, a sudden, cool space. I felt weird. I wasnât used to being left at parties. There was always someone trying to talk to me.
The music beat through the crowded room. This wild heart . . . it beats for you . . . my wild heart . . . it weeps for you . . .
I tried to follow him with my eyes through the fumy red air, through the crowd of partyers. I tried to keep my eye on his thin, small frame in the loose jeans, the little tail of hair in the tender groove of his neck, the clunky cowboy boots. I always thought that magic tricks were hokey; you know the magic isnât real. Buthe was so fastâthe way his long, tapered fingers moved and you couldnât keep track of them. Everyone around here was such a bunch of dufuses, never did anything but drink and play computer games and watch TV and smoke dope. At least he could do something!
Chrissie Peckâs place was packed. No room hardly to dance or sit down. The green canvas blinds were drawn over the windows so no one could see in. People were standing on the landing in the hallway. Someone had brushed up against Chrissieâs Mariah Carey poster and torn it. Now it hung down from the wall at a weird angle, Mariah Careyâs face cut in half, one of her big eyes lopsided and staring out.
The smoky air stung my eyes. I glanced up and suddenly, Brian was standing right above me, very close. I hadnât seen him approach. He was leaning back against the wall, his eyes focused across the room, pretending he didnât even know I was there. And Jimmy was lounging next to him. As always, waiting for Brian to tell him what to do, attuned to Brianâs every need.
Brian pretended he just wanted to be my friend, just wanted to hang out. Heâd discovered there was a party at Chrissieâs place,
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