by Donna Cooner
I laughed. And then Savanna laughed.
“Let me see what I can do,” Savanna said, getting to her feet and reaching for the scissors. “I’ve been known to fix a hair disaster or two in my day.”
“Thanks,” I said as Savanna stood behind me to examine my hair. I wiped the remaining tears off my face and smiled at my sister in the mirror.
Every day brings a chance for you to draw in a breath, kick off your shoes, and dance.
—Oprah Winfrey
“Your hair!” Caitlin exclaimed when we met on the sidewalk outside the Rio. Her mouth dropped open.
“Do you like it?” I asked self-consciously, patting the back of my head. Luckily, Savanna had worked wonders on my chop job, and now I thought I might even like the new me. At least my hair.
“I love it,” Caitlin said, admiring the hairdo from all sides. “It looks so chic.”
“Thanks,” I said, grinning. For a moment, I imagined posting a selfie of my new hair to ChitChat and what the comments would be. But then I pushed the thought away. It was bad enough I’d gone back on ChitChat last night after the dinner with Miguel and his parents.
I nodded toward the unmarked door beside the restaurant and asked, “You ready for this?” Caitlin and I could both hear the music coming from the second floor.
“As ready as I’m going to get.” Caitlin opened the door to reveal steep steps leading upstairs. “After you,” she said, and followed me up the steps toward the pounding beat above our heads.
The top of the stairs opened into a large room with hardwood floors and arching windows overlooking the street below. It was a huge dance studio with a DJ set up in one corner. A few folding chairs lined the exposed brick walls, but no one was sitting in them. Instead, couples and small groups of people milled around, chatting. Caitlin immediately headed for a chair and safety.
Caitlin was not exactly the most graceful person on a dance floor. Not even close. It was surprising considering her athleticism. People naturally assumed she would be just as agile and fluid when following a beat as she was on the soccer or football field. After years of birthday-party DJs and school dances, I knew she was not. Maybe that’s why, when I picked salsa dancing as our activity, she hadn’t been thrilled. But I was determined. It’s not like I was a great dancer either—I mostly felt like a klutz at every school dance I’d ever gone to. And now I was going to embarrass myself in front of a whole new group of strangers. But maybe tonight I’d be so tired from dancing, I wouldn’t want to go online.
“I’ll just watch first,” Caitlin told me. “Good luck.”
“No way,” I said. “You need to experience this firsthand.”
A handsome man wearing a yellow shirt and jeans walked into the center of the room. He clapped his hands together three times.
“Welcome, everyone,” he said.
I grabbed Caitlin’s hand and pulled her out toward the dance floor.
“Circle up,” the man said. “My name is Javier and I’ll be your dance instructor for the night.”
Caitlin and I were by far the youngest in the room. We found ourselves standing beside a short gray-haired man. I smiled lamely toward the man, already feeling sorry that he’d have to see me dance. He beamed back, leaning in to introduce himself. “My name is Clyde and this is my wife, Tinka.”
The tiny gray-haired woman beside Clyde enthusiastically shook my hand.
“I’m Annie,” I said. “And this is my friend Caitlin.”
“Such pretty young ladies,” Tinka said with a smile. “I can tell you’re going to be naturals at this.”
Caitlin and I exchanged a glance. Glad somebody thinks so.
Javier managed to get everyone’s attention and started with the basic step. “Rock your body weight forward,” he called out. “Swing your hips as you shift your body weight. March your feet in rhythm to the beat of the music. One, two, three. Pause. One, two, three. Pause.”
Everyone practiced. I tried to move rhythmically to the beat and follow along, keeping my eyes fixed on Javier instead of my own feet. But no matter how hard I tried, it felt like I was just a second too late. I glanced at Caitlin. I could tell this was way outside her comfort zone, but her steps were surer than mine. She wasn’t totally embarrassing herself.
I looked over at Clyde. It was a mistake. Clyde was an amazing dancer, smoothly moving through the steps. It was obvious he’d done this before. Tinka didn’t seem to be having much trouble either.
But I wasn’t ready to admit defeat.
Javier glided back and forth, back and forth in the middle of the circle. He was impossibly smooth and effortless. “Now we will try it with a partner. Everyone?”
Caitlin turned to bow before me. “Would you like to dance?” she asked.
“Of course,” I said.
I felt incredibly awkward at first—out of step, just off the beat. It didn’t help that Caitlin was starting to giggle. My brows knitted together in concentration, and my lips moved as I counted the steps. I would have been laughing, too, if I wasn’t working so hard at keeping up. My breathing quickened, and I looked up from watching my feet to see Caitlin’s huge grin. I felt myself relax. We were having fun. Together.
The music was contagious—lively and upbeat with lots of percussion—and the crowd forgiving. I quickly realized I needed to stop being so hard on myself. All around us, couples were moving and smiling. People made mistakes. And it was okay. Completely swept up in the music, my breathing got faster and my smile wider. The room pulsed around me. I forgot about counting and my feet moving just the right way. Instead, it was all about letting the music help me along.
Suddenly, I felt like my friends and I should have always gone out dancing every day. I thought of all the hours I’d spent on ChitChat instead of doing other things. It was like I’d been away somewhere and missed out on everything.
Dancing took more energy than expected, and when the third song ended, I was completely out of breath. “I need a break,” I told Caitlin, and we headed toward the folding chairs along the wall.
“How’d I do?” Caitlin asked.
“Fishing for a compliment?”
“Would it kill you?”
“You’re pretty good at this,” I said finally. “Better than I expected.”
“YouTube,” she admitted, with a slight grin.
I laughed. “That’s cheating.”
She raised her hands in protest. “We didn’t make any rules about watching videos!”
“Okay, but I still think you had the advantage,” I said.
“It was definitely easier with an actual partner.” Caitlin nudged me and I laughed again.
We sat and watched Tinka and Clyde move seamlessly in perfect synchrony. It was impossible not to smile. For a moment, my hand itched to pull out a phone and record a video: #smooth #beat #happy. I looked over at Caitlin. She felt it, too.
“I’m jealous,” she said.
I pulled my hair up off my sweaty neck with one hand, fanning my face with the other. “Because they’re such good dancers and we never will be?”
“No, silly.” Caitlin fake-punched my arm, then tried to articulate her thoughts. “It’s because they have each other.” She started, then stopped. She tried again. “My dad is a really good dancer.”
“Seriously?” I was surprised. Coach Stone did not seem like the dancing type.
“I know. You wouldn’t think at his size, he’d be that graceful, but you should see him dance at wedding receptions and family events. I loved to watch him and my mom …” Her voice trailed off, and she swallowed hard, letting the music fill up the beat of silence between us. She rubbed the back of her hand against her forehead.
“They were good together,” she finally said with a shrug.
I studied her profile while Caitlin watched the dancers. She looked so young, with flushed cheeks and tendrils of brown hair around her face. In that moment, I thought Cait looked a lot like her mother. I didn’t know whether to tell her or not, if i
t would make her sad or happy.
“Can I have this dance?” I asked instead. I stood up and held out my hand. She took it without hesitation.
Later we hung out in my bedroom devouring the pepperoni pizza we picked up on the way home. Evidently dancing made us ravenous. We’d texted Luna to see if she wanted to join us, but she was hard at work on her story.
“I have a new idea for the list,” Caitlin said suddenly.
I swallowed my bite of pizza, then said, “I think we’ve already done plenty for tonight.”
She waved half a piece of pizza toward me. “No, seriously. This one is easy.”
I eyed her suspiciously. “What?”
“Build a fort,” she said. “Remember how we used to do that right here in your room?”
That actually sounded good. Comforting. Relaxing.
It took a few minutes to remember how to drape the blankets from the bed to the desk chair, but eventually we constructed a huge tentlike structure that took up most of the room. Satisfied, we reclined on pillows inside and grinned conspiratorially at each other. I crawled out to retrieve the pizza box, then pulled it back inside.
“We should tell secrets,” Caitlin said.
My mind immediately jumped to the vow. “Why?”
“That’s what you do inside forts. It’s like a rule.”
“Are you sure?” Not big secrets.
Caitlin nodded enthusiastically.
“You go first,” Caitlin said, and I desperately tried to think of some other secret besides admitting how I was still going back on ChitChat.
“I think I like dogs. Or maybe just one dog.”
“Why is that a secret?” Caitlin asked.
“Because I’ve never told anyone about it.”
“It’s not a very big secret,” Caitlin said.
I smiled. “Okay, maybe it’s more than just liking a dog. I think I like a boy, too.”
Caitlin looked confused. “Where is all this happening?”
“I started volunteering at the animal shelter, and I met this dog, Rocco, there. He’s amazing.”
Caitlin narrowed her eyes at me. “Get to the part about the boy.”
“Isco works at the shelter and we’ve been talking …” My voice trailed off.
Caitlin snapped her fingers. “I knew there was something strange about him popping up everywhere.”
“I think he’s nice. And funny. And …”
“And?”
My heart thumped. I closed my eyes and put my head down on my crossed arms. “We almost kissed.”
There. I said it. There was silence. I lifted my head and looked at Caitlin.
“Wow.” Caitlin blinked, then grinned. “That is a big secret.”
“Now you,” I said.
Caitlin said it as quick as possible. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. “I think I like Milo.”
I sat up straight. “You what?”
Caitlin tried to explain. “I didn’t plan it.”
I crawled out of the fort, and Caitlin followed slowly. The fun was over. She’d ruined it. I sat on my bed, jaw clenched.
“I’m sorry. Please, Annie, listen,” Caitlin pleaded. “I know I should have told you sooner. It just—just kind of happened over the past few days.”
“So now you’ve told me. You don’t have to sneak around anymore.”
“We haven’t even gone out or anything! But I like him and I think he likes me, too.” She sat down beside me. “He’s been really supportive of my being on the team. Which has been a surprise.”
I balled my hands into fists. “Have you told Luna?”
Beside me, Caitlin nodded, and I felt a stab of pain.
“I know you don’t like him,” Caitlin said.
“Of course I don’t,” I snapped. “He ruined my life.”
Caitlin looked down. “I mean, yeah, the video sucked. But Milo really feels terrible about posting it now. He asked me what he can do to make it up to you.”
“He can leave me alone,” I said icily. I stared at Caitlin, then turned around to face the wall. “And so can you.”
“Seriously?” Caitlin said.
I didn’t answer. I felt her stand up but didn’t turn to look.
“Okay, I’m gonna go now,” Caitlin said, waiting for a beat. I didn’t move. She headed for the door, but I stayed put—back rigid and unyielding, even as tears filled my eyes.
And even worse than our fight? I knew that once Caitlin was gone, nothing would stop me from going back on ChitChat.
Facts
★ 5OO million tweets sent every day
★ 7O million images uploaded on ChitChat every day
★ 2 billion worldwide social network users
★ 3OO hours of video uploaded per minute on YouTube
★ Average person checks their phone 15O times a day.
95% of teens have access to a smartphone, and 45% say they are online “almost constantly.”
On any given day, teens in the United States spend about nine hours using social media.
Nine hours.
That’s more time than we spend sleeping, eating, or going to school.
Links between social media and anxiety and depression??? Check facts …
Social media is the biggest game teenagers engage in on a daily basis.
That’s it—my headline.
Luna
The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don’t have any.
—Alice Walker
I sat on the stool at the coffee bar beside Luna, waiting to lie.
Her laptop was open, and her hands poised over the keyboard. We were about to start our interview for her story, and I could feel how excited Luna was.
#OfflineOctober seemed to only be growing. The list of signatures had more students committed to the vow than we’d ever dreamed. In the cafeteria, you could see the change—people talked to each other and didn’t stare at their phones. People were participating in the offline activities, going on hikes and reading more books. And it was all thanks to Luna, really.
“Are you ready?” Luna asked me.
A cliff face of fear loomed in front of me. It was one thing to be dishonest with your closest friends, but now, in the article, I’d be going public. I waited for the first question, a hollow smile plastered to my face.
“How has being offline changed you?”
Think. Think. Think, I chanted inside my brain.
“I just notice things more,” I finally said. “I’m more in the moment. It feels like I’m experiencing things for myself, not just watching other people do things.” Which, I realized, was true. In the times when I was able to step away from my phone, I did feel that way. So maybe I wasn’t lying quite so much.
Luna typed quickly and smiled at the screen.
“If you wanted to give someone younger advice about social media before they started using it, what would you say?” she asked.
“People post their best moments online, so don’t compare your life to what you see. Real life isn’t going to be as perfect as all the posed shots you see on social media.” As I spoke, I wished I could really and truly follow my own advice.
Luna nodded solemnly. “Great advice.”
“Just ask yourself, did that ChitChat scroll make you feel better or worse?” I added, as if I were some expert.
“Perfect. Can I quote you on that?” Luna asked, typing hard.
I nodded, feeling like a fraud.
I looked down at my cup. If I could access ChitChat now, I would take a picture of the perfect foam heart on top of the cappuccino. It looked so delicious in the bright yellow cup set against the green-tiled counter. I even knew what to tag it on the post. #cappuccinoart #baristagram #lifeisgood #cupofperfection
Luna wrinkled her brow. “What’s wrong?”
I slumped on the stool, rubbing my palms against my forehead. “Nothing. I had a fight with Caitlin.”
“I heard.”
I stared at her. “And you think th
is thing with Milo is okay?”
“I didn’t say that,” Luna said, holding up her hands in surrender. “I don’t want to get caught in the middle.”
I picked up the coffee cup, then set it back down without taking a sip. My fear peaked and then leveled out. My heart rate slowed. Now was the time to come clean and tell Luna I wasn’t being honest about the vow. I took a deep breath.
“Luna,” I began, “I have something I want to—”
The door to the coffee shop opened, and the two freshman fashionistas, Kiyana and Lizzie, arrived with a burst of cold air. Kiyana wore a cherry-red turtleneck with a denim miniskirt, her curly brown hair clipped back with silver barrettes. Lizzie had a completely different look, with a slate-blue slip dress and a long, cozy cardigan. I wondered if they felt their efforts were completely in vain without ChitChat to capture the looks.
“Hi!” Luna called, waving them over. “I’m almost done interviewing Annie.”
“What are they doing here?” I whispered to her as the two girls approached.
“They volunteered to help with some ideas for the Fall Festival,” Luna said, her eyes bright. “Remember how we’re planning to give certificates to the #OfflineOctober participants?”
Oh right. My stomach sank. I’d forgotten about that. And hadn’t Luna wanted me and Caitlin to make some sort of speech onstage? This was getting more and more complicated.
Lizzie and Kiyana sat down at the coffee bar, grinning at me and Luna.
“Go, Team SO.” Lizzie shook her fists in the air like she was shaking pom-poms.
“We took a hike this morning,” Kiyana announced triumphantly. “No phones!”
“That’s awesome, guys,” Luna said, giving both the girls high fives. I just smiled weakly.
Luna turned back to me. “Annie, you were about to say something? For the article?” She raised her eyebrows at me, her fingers back on her laptop keyboard, ready to type.
I swallowed hard. I’d been ready to confess to Luna that I hadn’t been keeping the vow. But I couldn’t tell her now, not in front of Lizzie and Kiyana, who were so sweet and eager about #OfflineOctober.
“No, it was nothing,” I said quickly. “Nothing important.”