Trip the Light Fantastic

by Nicole Bea

  The words catch in Mom’s throat and she chokes them out as quickly as possible before her voice warbles.

  “My pleasure, honestly. And I’m pleased to meet you, even under these unfortunate circumstances.” Lux’s words seem to soothe Mom, and she gives him a soft smile before bringing her hands together in front of her.

  “I’ve made tea. It’s strong and still hot. I put an extra teabag in there, just the way you like it, Chelsea. Lux, do you drink tea?”

  “I’ll have some, thank you.”

  Mom nods, ushering us into the house and toward the kitchen, limping a little on her right side. “I’m so thankful you were able to get here. So, so thankful. Lux, you must be an early riser to have been ready to take Chelsea all the way out here. I appreciate a man with a caring nature. My late husband was the same kind of man.” She pulls the teapot from the top of the stove and pours the dark brown liquid into three mugs that she’s already lined up on the countertop. There’s a hesitation before she turns around, and I know somewhere deep inside that Mom’s thinking about Dad and how he used to drink his tea strong like this.

  We take our cups and follow Mom into the living room. She sits on the loveseat by the large picture window that’s open and blowing in a faint ocean and sea salt smell.

  “So, what happened?” I ask, taking a seat in the rocking chair across from her on the other side of the coffee table.

  Mom heaves in a deep breath before taking a sip of her steaming tea. “I was just about halfway pulled out of the driveway when Huxley came flying over the blind crest, chasing a little red car. The red car swerved and kept on going down the road, but Huxley crashed right into the passenger’s side of the SUV. The whole thing just… smashed. He must not have seen me until it was too late. The airbags went off though. That’s what happened to my face.”

  We stay with Mom for the better part of the morning, and she recounts the details of the accident and Huxley’s apology, and how he too was able to walk away from the crash. The police told them they were extraordinarily lucky that the only real loss was both cars. I don’t know what happens with a vehicle when it’s totaled, but Mom said she’s taking care of it through the insurance, and they’re going to give her a rental even though she doesn’t want to be driving any time soon. On top of it, there are going to be penalties for Huxley. He might have to go to court, and his license might be revoked for stunting and street racing. At the very least he’ll get a huge fine, one that his parents will probably pay for him because that’s what the Bartons are like.

  Before I leave Mom, as I’m standing at the front door with a silent Lux, I promise to answer her calls.

  “I know you have things going on, Chelsea. Don’t you worry about me. I’ll be fine. You’ve got a big day tomorrow anyway, with the first day of classes.”

  I had almost forgotten about the actual reason I was at Bedford, and how that reason would begin in less than twenty-four hours.

  “Just-” she pauses, looking over at Lux, who hasn’t said much the whole visit. “Remind her sometimes that I’m here, you know? Don’t let her get too distracted or reinvent herself too much. Let her know she’s wonderful just the way she is.”

  Lux gives my mother a smile before looking at me with his pool blue eyes. “Oh, I know. I can’t imagine what this year would have been like if I hadn’t run into her that first morning she was on campus.”

  “Remember that feeling,” Mom replies sadly, setting her teacup on the ledge of the half wall. “You don’t always get to keep it forever.”

  Lux touches my hand so subtly I almost don’t feel it, except for the warm sensation that runs through my skin when he grazes it.

  Chapter 8

  Lux drops me back off at my dorm around lunchtime, and we part after a lengthy goodbye kiss that starts to steam up the windows of the Hyundai. Walking back up to my room, I can’t help the worry that overtakes me: about mom, about classes starting tomorrow, about everything. I have all my books, so I’m technically ready, but something inside of me still doesn’t feel prepared.

  I can’t pinpoint the source of the feeling until much later at night after I’ve basked in the Lux’s scent that’s seeped into my bedsheets—I’m worried about large classes with strangers, doing presentations in a language I’m not totally fluent in, and what everyone else is going to think of me. Somehow, I manage to spend the day pondering over this, practicing dance steps, and flipping through the first three chapters of every one of my textbooks. Before I know it, it’s past supper, the cafeteria is closed, and I’m left with only a box of granola bars to eat for supper. Mom must have hidden them in my bag. I guess she was worried about me not being able to get down to the cafeteria at a quiet time that wouldn’t aggravate my nervousness.

  She was right to be concerned about my level of comfort here because my meals lately have consisted of salad, pizza, overcooked tortellini at the Oakwood, and wine at Lux’s apartment. I vow to myself to get up early and eat a proper breakfast right when the cafeteria opens so I might avoid some of the sleepy students on the first day of class. I even set my alarm for six in the morning, hoping that I’ll have time to eat, do my hair, and dress in something that doesn’t scream freshman.

  However, nothing goes as planned.

  The next morning, I shove a s’mores flavored bar in my mouth as I’m getting dressed, having waited until the last possible second to get out of bed. The six in the morning thing didn’t work because I stayed up late texting Lux, confiding in him about my anxiousness about classes starting. He was kind enough to lose out on his own sleep in order to attempt to make me more comfortable, and it worked to some degree. Other than the part where I totally slept through my alarm, wasn’t able to get to the cafeteria on time before my 8:30 am class, and regretted my past self’s decision to enroll in a course that starts before ten o’clock.

  My heart is racing by the time I get in the elevator and practically run through Harris Hall on my way to my first ever university class. Only I would be horrifically late on the first day, not following any of my own goals for the day, barely dressed in something presentable with a lopsided ponytail that’s still damp from the shower. It all weighs on me and makes me uncomfortable and sick in the pit of my stomach.

  FRE100 is located in the Ross Building on the second floor, in a classroom with long windows that overlook the quad. I arrive about half a second before the professor walks in, but thankfully there’s an empty table on one side of the room, so I don’t have to pick a seat next to anyone. Plunking my notebook and my key down on the table as quietly as possible, I get comfortable enough in the plastic chair and stare straight ahead.

  My professor is a tall man with a mustache who starts speaking in quick French almost immediately, and for the entire hour and ten minutes, I get down four lines of notes and whatever he’s written on the whiteboard as homework. Thankfully, it appears to be just reading through the first chapter of the textbook and writing a five-hundred-word essay on one of the topics at the end of the chapter to evaluate our French writing skills at the beginning of the course versus our writing at the end of the semester. I’m already embarrassed by my skills. What if everyone else writes better than I do? Did they understand the class today or am I the only one who is totally lost?

  I have a break in between my classes, and I take my anxiety-riddled self back to my dorm, pick up my phone, and text Lux. He might be in a course and unable to write back right away, but I need to get my thoughts out and if I call Mom, she’ll just have something else to worry about.

  Chelsea: Hey! It’s day one. How are you feeling about your last year at Bedford?

  Lux: I’d like today to be over already. Did you get the email about the dance club meet tonight? We’re going to try for twice a week.

  I was in such a rush this morning that I didn’t even think about checking my email, and I had left my phone in my room since I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to bring it to class. In high school, if our teacher saw our phones out du
ring class time they were taken away or we were told to put them in our bags.

  Chelsea: I hadn’t checked. Tonight?

  Lux: Yeah. It’s okay if you can’t make it. I know a couple of the other freshmen probably won’t come. The first day can be kind of overwhelming. Well, the whole first week, really. Are you doing okay? Have you had a class yet?

  Chelsea: Yeah, my FRE100 was at 8:30. Someone in the guidance office should have warned me that taking classes that early in the morning is the worst choice ever.

  Lux: Ouch. Want to meet for lunch at one?

  I look at my weekly schedule for the millionth time. It’s posted on my wall and inside all of my color-coordinated notebooks for each course.I should have it memorized by now, but I definitely don’t.

  Chelsea: I have ENG100 at one. How about 2:30?

  Lux: I’m in a seminar class then. Dinner before dance? Six at the Oakwood?

  Chelsea: Sure. Let’s do that.

  Lux sends me a winking emoji and it makes me smile in real life, so I send one back.

  Chelsea: Speaking of food, I’m going to try to run down and grab something at the cafeteria. I was running late this morning and all I had was a granola bar Mom snuck in one of my bags. It’s probably going to be busy, isn’t it?

  Lux: Maybe. Just pop in and out. I’m on campus if you want me to come with? I can keep you company while you eat. They have the best pancakes. Well, not better than my pancakes, but they’re still pretty good.

  Chelsea: This is the second time you’ve touted your cooking abilities. When are you going to make me something?

  Lux: We can talk about it when you meet me down in the pedway. Let’s get some food before I have to run to meet with the student council about the club.

  I send Lux a confirmation message and hop up from my messy bed before heading down to meet him. Even though I know he’s going to be there with me in the cafeteria, I’m certain it’s going to be busy with everyone getting ready for classes and laboratory courses. I’m a bit more comfortable having company so I don’t have to sit by myself and worry that people are staring at me, but there’s still a little piece of me that doesn’t love the idea of being in a crowd of students I don’t know while trying to walk around with a serving tray and not trip or something.

  My fears and anxiety all begin to melt when I spot him standing against the pedway railing at the bottom of Harris Hall, waiting for me. He’s dressed in dark jeans and a red, long-sleeve shirt that hugs his shoulders, and my heart skips that same beat it always does when I see him for the first time in a day or so.

  “Hey,” Lux says, adjusting his position as he spots me coming off the elevator in the crowd of students. His phone is in his hand and he shoves it in his back pocket with a residual frown. “Something came up—I have to run to meet with the council now about the club. I have like ten minutes until I need to be in the office. Would it be okay if we ran in and got pancakes and then left? Unless you eat can super fast?”

  “No, that’s fine. You can go now if you want.”

  “I said I’d get pancakes with you, so that’s totally happening. I’m not leaving you pancake-less. We’ll just have to hurry, that’s all.”

  “Sounds good.”

  The two of us walk toward the cafeteria, and I give Lux the summary of FRE100 where the professor talked so fast that I was entirely lost until we got to the homework part of class. He smiles, immediately knowing the man I’m talking about, and says that Professor Edgar often does that on the first day to get rid of the students who don’t really want to be there or who are taking the course thinking that it will be an easy elective. Apparently, it gets better going forward, and I tell Lux I sincerely hope so.

  We pop in to pick up our pancakes, which are hot and made fresh to order, getting them in a to-go box before Lux drops me off back at the elevator to Harris Hall.

  “I’m sorry I can’t stay. I’ll make it up to you for dinner though. Just, we’ve got this problem with the enrollment numbers for the club and the council won’t allow us to be an official on-campus extra-curricular which means that we won’t be able to use the space without paying for it. Kind of crappy.” Lux sighs, swapping his pancake container from one hand to the other. “Anyway, Jenn and I are thinking we might do an exhibition or something with other dancers from the area and other universities to try and get more students interested. We talked to some people the other day and we’ve got the auditorium already booked along with some people who are interested.”

  I wince a little at Jenn’s name, though I try to remind myself that Lux said everything with her was over. I don’t love the thought of them performing together, but the dance club is obviously important to the both of them and if they need to save it, well, I guess that’s what they have to do.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Lux thinks for a minute, his gaze switching from me to the ceiling’s fluorescent lights. “Well, maybe. I suppose if you wanted to practice with me a couple more times, I could dance with you in the exhibition as well? We’d just do something simple.”

  That’s not exactly what I was thinking. I thought I could make posters or send emails or something, background work that wouldn’t require me proving to experienced dancers that I have no idea what I’m doing with my feet, especially after only two classes. So when I find myself nodding without hesitation, I have no idea what’s going on between my brain and my body.

  “Yeah, I could try to do that.”

  Lux’s eyes light up and a broad smile crosses his face. “Really? That would be amazing, Chelsea. You’ll do so well. Okay, I’ve really got to run now, but I’ll see you at dinner, okay?”

  “Okay,” I squeak, my mind finally catching up with what I’ve agreed to. “I’ll see you then.”

  The rest of the school day goes by so fast it’s almost overwhelming. I call Mom to check in on her later in the afternoon and let her know that my day is going alright. Thankfully, the remainder of my courses are in English so I’m able to fully comprehend exactly what’s going on, even though I already have a pile of reading and writing for the next week. Even still, I feel accomplished when I head over to the Oakwood to meet Lux for dinner, despite the little spittles of rain that are coming down between the tree branches and green leaves. I try not to walk with too much confidence or too fast because that will give away my excitement or that I’m new—like Lux told me that first day—but I’m so excited to see him and to dance the evening away that I can’t help the spring in my step.

  That spring turns into rocks when I spot Lux sitting in the round booth we were in only a few days ago, Jenn sitting across from him. There’s something about her pouty lips and pretty hair that always makes me feel like I’m not good enough, and I wonder what Lux has told her about him and me, if anything. I suppose she has a right to know that there’s something going on between us since she’s the vice-president of their club and they appear to be friends, though I really want to hold on to our budding relationship and have it all to myself.

  “Hi,” I say as I walk into the dining area, nearly coming to a full stop before Jenn slips out of her seat and picks up her notepad. Apparently, she’s supposed to be working and not hanging around with Lux, but it looks like they were in the middle of a big conversation and I’ve interrupted. “I can, I don’t know- I can come back after if you guys are busy?”

  Lux shakes his head and so does Jenn, who looks a little annoyed at my sudden appearance. “It’s all good, Chelsea. We were just talking about the exhibition. The council’s willing to give us a little bit of time to put it together and get more students signed up, but no more than a few weeks so we’re on a short timeline. Thankfully we have the North Auditorium available, so it’s just a matter of working through our contacts and putting together an hour or so of performances.”

  Jenn shoves her order pad into her apron before sticking her pen behind her ear. “I hear that you and Lux might be performing something simple.” She sticks on the word
‘simple’ like it’s poisonous, which makes me think that Lux has definitely reminded her that things between them are over and she’s not pleased about it.

  “Yeah. Thinking about it, if I can figure out some steps.” I shrug, feeling awkward standing there in the middle of the Oakwood, while the other booth seat is empty and waiting for me. Jenn takes a step back and I slide my way in, trying to settle into the cushion while she talks to Lux.

  “Anyway, I’ll talk to Colleen and Joey and see what they can do. They’ll probably have a few dancers from Passage who might be able to help. It shouldn’t take long to put together. Plus, Joey’s in marketing so he’ll be able to get word out through socials and stuff pretty quick.” She looks over at Lux with her doe eyes, like if she glances at him the right way then he’s going to change his mind about her.

  “Sounds good. I’ll give you a wave when we’re ready to order.”

  “Perfect. Nice to see you again, Chelsea. Glad you decided to stay in dance.” Jenn’s tone doesn’t match what she’s saying, but I don’t call her out on it because it wouldn’t be the right thing to do. I should just be nice, even if part of her clearly wants to steal Lux back.

  As Jenn turns and walks away, Lux looks over at me and slides his hand across the dark tabletop. “How was the rest of your day?”

  I meet his hand, our fingers barely touching, brushing softly against one another’s skin as gentle pop-rock plays over the speakers. “I talked to Mom. She’s doing okay. Got a rental car for now, and her face doesn’t hurt as much. Huxley—the guy who hit her— came over and apologized again with his parents, and they brought her a casserole.”

  “A casserole? How’s that supposed to help?”