long French doors. It was beginning to be daylight, finally. But I didn’t have time to think about that. I didn’t have that kind of time.
Because here they came, the three of them roaring around the room on roller skates. They saw me and screamed, and the screams bounced and bounced off the walls and echoed across the ripply floor. They were speed-skating right at me, gripping each other, touching the floor for balance, practically falling but never quite. When had any of us been roller-skating?
But they were. Here they came in their Fabian’s prom outfits. Tanya’s billowing skirts. Natalie’s peekaboo black bra and red satin dress. Makenzie in lace and leg warmers. But now, of course, they’d lost their stilty, strappy, stiletto heels and were wearing skates. Old-fashioned, lace-up skates. Dirty white leather.
It was great—fabulous. Tanya looked the most like a skater in her leotard under the skirts. But they were gray in this light. Even Natalie’s dress was grayish. I dropped my backpack, and they were practically running me down, dragging toes to stop, throwing sparks. They had their ways of stopping. Makenzie tripped on my backpack. They were all totally out of breath. Their hands came out for me to steady them. I felt their hands all over my bare arms, and their warmth.
“Where have you been? ” Tanya said, squeezing my hand. They all wondered. “You’ve been, like, ages. Eons. Lifetimes.”
“I looked for you there,” I said, trying to explain. “I looked all over and along the whole bar before I—”
“Whatever. You’re here now.” They were catching their breath. Tanya had already caught hers. “And honestly, what are you doing in those ridiculous shoes? Get out of them. Makenzie, go find Kerry’s skates.
“They used to have skating parties,” Tanya said, “when Aunt Lily was a girl. There are skates all over her apartment, all sizes. Makenzie brought up a pair for you.”
Skidding and rolling back and forth, they aimed me at a little gold chair. Now I was supposed to get out of the torture shoes and put on these skates. My job was to get these skates on, not to think. Natalie stood back, still breathing hard, waiting for me, hooking her hair behind her ears. She stood there like a picture of a ballet dancer, resting. A painting.
“Do you have room in the toes?” Makenzie wondered. I did. She’d found the right size, but then, Makenzie had always been the best at finding things.
Tanya was on her knees, lacing up my skates for me, tight over my black stockings. Tanya . . . waiting on me? Tanya on her knees before me? I didn’t even believe it, but I felt her hands, like birds with rushing wings.
The skittery little chair went over backward when they pulled me to my feet. The skates went in all directions. My legs were trying to do the splits. But they wouldn’t let me fall. We moved together now, out onto the ballroom floor like a many-legged thing. All our sequins and satins in a flounce of skirts and peekaboo bra and lace. The glass jewels in our ears and hair flashed the room. And we were on wheels—rattle-trap old unoiled wheels with minds of their own.
“You know what we’re like, don’t you?” Tanya was saying. “We’re like Shannon’s cheerleaders.” And we were, all trying to make the same coordinated moves and never quite managing it.
Then we started with our scissor-strides, getting up speed. Our skirts strained over our knees. Now we were like elementary school kids at a skating party, playing dress-up. It was that last kids’ party of elementary school with all the games that will never work again.
We were the thunder, all around the room, and I felt their hands holding me, overlapping against my back. I didn’t have to be clingy, and I was keeping up. They held me. It was the four of us, and who could tell where one of us stopped and the others began? We skated in our clump, getting better at it, swooping with screams around the room, around and
Because here they came, the three of them roaring around the room on roller skates. They saw me and screamed, and the screams bounced and bounced off the walls and echoed across the ripply floor. They were speed-skating right at me, gripping each other, touching the floor for balance, practically falling but never quite. When had any of us been roller-skating?
But they were. Here they came in their Fabian’s prom outfits. Tanya’s billowing skirts. Natalie’s peekaboo black bra and red satin dress. Makenzie in lace and leg warmers. But now, of course, they’d lost their stilty, strappy, stiletto heels and were wearing skates. Old-fashioned, lace-up skates. Dirty white leather.
It was great—fabulous. Tanya looked the most like a skater in her leotard under the skirts. But they were gray in this light. Even Natalie’s dress was grayish. I dropped my backpack, and they were practically running me down, dragging toes to stop, throwing sparks. They had their ways of stopping. Makenzie tripped on my backpack. They were all totally out of breath. Their hands came out for me to steady them. I felt their hands all over my bare arms, and their warmth.
“Where have you been? ” Tanya said, squeezing my hand. They all wondered. “You’ve been, like, ages. Eons. Lifetimes.”
“I looked for you there,” I said, trying to explain. “I looked all over and along the whole bar before I—”
“Whatever. You’re here now.” They were catching their breath. Tanya had already caught hers. “And honestly, what are you doing in those ridiculous shoes? Get out of them. Makenzie, go find Kerry’s skates.
“They used to have skating parties,” Tanya said, “when Aunt Lily was a girl. There are skates all over her apartment, all sizes. Makenzie brought up a pair for you.”
Skidding and rolling back and forth, they aimed me at a little gold chair. Now I was supposed to get out of the torture shoes and put on these skates. My job was to get these skates on, not to think. Natalie stood back, still breathing hard, waiting for me, hooking her hair behind her ears. She stood there like a picture of a ballet dancer, resting. A painting.
“Do you have room in the toes?” Makenzie wondered. I did. She’d found the right size, but then, Makenzie had always been the best at finding things.
Tanya was on her knees, lacing up my skates for me, tight over my black stockings. Tanya . . . waiting on me? Tanya on her knees before me? I didn’t even believe it, but I felt her hands, like birds with rushing wings.
The skittery little chair went over backward when they pulled me to my feet. The skates went in all directions. My legs were trying to do the splits. But they wouldn’t let me fall. We moved together now, out onto the ballroom floor like a many-legged thing. All our sequins and satins in a flounce of skirts and peekaboo bra and lace. The glass jewels in our ears and hair flashed the room. And we were on wheels—rattle-trap old unoiled wheels with minds of their own.
“You know what we’re like, don’t you?” Tanya was saying. “We’re like Shannon’s cheerleaders.” And we were, all trying to make the same coordinated moves and never quite managing it.
Then we started with our scissor-strides, getting up speed. Our skirts strained over our knees. Now we were like elementary school kids at a skating party, playing dress-up. It was that last kids’ party of elementary school with all the games that will never work again.
We were the thunder, all around the room, and I felt their hands holding me, overlapping against my back. I didn’t have to be clingy, and I was keeping up. They held me. It was the four of us, and who could tell where one of us stopped and the others began? We skated in our clump, getting better at it, swooping with screams around the room, around and
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