Viola in Reel Life by Adriana Trigiani Page B

take me in his arms and I would look up at him, and have to go up on tiptoe just to sort of make the waltzing work. And he would whirl me around the room effortlessly and I would follow, like a long silk scarf during an Isadora Duncan-style dance. I imagined this moment so many times that I feel a little disloyal dancing with Jared when it’s been Tag all this time. But I have to get over it. I’m in Indiana, not Brooklyn, and Tag is juggling dances with Lucy and Maxine and wouldn’t even have the time to squeeze me in anyhow.
    Jared takes my hand, which seems a little weird but mostly polite. We join my friends on the dance floor and I introduce them over the music.
    I glance around and see Mrs. Zidar standing with the GSA chaperone as they look on with approval. Our first freshman dance is already a success and so far nobody has spilled punch, spray painted the walls, or set the velvet curtains on fire.
    As we dance, I look off beyond Jared to the fringe of the dance floor. Some of my classmates look bored, and others so uncomfortable this might as well be a trip to the dentist. I feel badly for them. I almost feel guilty having a good time, as if there’s only so much happiness to go around, and it’s just luck if you get a portion.
    Marisol dances over and grabs my hand. Led by Suzanne and Romy, we make a ribbon through the crowded dance floor, almost running and laughing. Trish is chewing on a minipizza as she talks with an RA from GSA. She waves as we pass her.
    Jared stands by waiting for me, laughing with the other boys. The dance we started went by the wayside when I joined my friends in this nutty conga line. I grab Jared’s hand as we pass, and pretty soon all the guys on the dance floor have joined us. The DJ ramps up the music as we snake through the party room and out onto the terrace. I’m totally out of breath when Jared says, “Follow me. I want to show you something.”
    We go back into the party room and pick up ourcameras. I throw the camera strap over my head. It nestles around my neck comfortably. He does the same with his and I follow him outside. Normally, I might feel a little weird going off alone with someone I just met, specifically a boy, but somehow the cameras give us a purpose. We’re two filmmakers, really, like my mom and dad who work together. Even though we’ve just met, my inner voice tells me he is totally cool. So I go with it.
    Jared sits down on the low stone wall near the DJ’s stand and flips his legs over the side. He extends his hand for me and I do the same. Once on the other side of the low wall, we head down a footpath with lowlights buried into the ground, lighting the way. I look back at the main building. I can hear the music and the laughter, and for real, the GS Academy looks like a castle.
    “Check this out,” Jared says. He motions for me to follow him in a sharp turn on the path.
    Before us is a lake with an old rickety pier extending out to the center. A series of canoes lie on the shore like yellow matchsticks. The moon overhead pours silver light onto the lake, turning it a shimmering blue. The cold November wind ruffles the edges of the water. I can hear the soft shift of the moorings as the water laps against it.
    “This is beautiful,” I tell Jared. I flip the lens cap offmy camera and look through it. Just enough light to get some movement on the water. Jared slips off his lens cap and takes a different angle of what I’m filming.
    “I come down here all the time,” he says. “I was hoping the moon was bright enough for you to get some of the scenery tonight.”
    “It’s just bright enough,” I tell him. “This is really nice.”
    I focus on the light on the water, then widen out to take in more of the lake until it turns into black murk in the distance.
    Jared stops filming before me and walks down to the edge of the pier. I follow him and we sit on the end and look out over the water.
    “Milwaukee’s pretty close to Indiana. Do you go