Crushing It

by Joanne Levy

  I stopped and looked back down the hallway toward where he’d gone. Could Tyler and I have . . . ?

  At that moment Olivia came out of the bathroom, a big wet spot on her shirt where she’d cleaned it. “Gross,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Where’s Tyler?”

  I pointed. “Off cleaning kennels.” I almost told her he was going to ask her to the dance, but maybe it was best if she heard it from him anyway.

  “Thanks for everything, Kat,” she said.

  I nodded and watched her follow down the hallway where he’d gone.

  Chapter 12

  MOM DROPPED OLIVIA OFF ON the way home from the shelter, leaving just me and Tyler in the car with her.

  I knew Tyler hadn’t asked Olivia to the dance yet, because, knowing her, she would have been bursting with the news and would have dragged me into the bathroom before we left the building to tell me immediately.

  So he hadn’t yet asked her, but he was planning to.

  I couldn’t tell if he felt weird about the conversation we’d had back at the shelter, but I sure did. Thankfully, sitting in the front seat meant I didn’t have to look at him at all. Just to make sure, I asked my mom a million questions about dinner: what were we having (chicken, potatoes, and salad) and then the ingredient listing of the salad and if she knew what was in the dressing. Then I asked her to describe how she made scalloped potatoes as though I was taking notes for a cookbook.

  She took her eyes off the road long enough to smirk at me. “Why the sudden interest in all the cooking? You starting a restaurant?”

  “No,” I said. “I’m just curious, that’s all.”

  “Your potatoes sound really delicious,” Tyler said from the back seat.

  Mom smiled in the mirror at him. “They’re my specialty. I can’t believe you’ve never had them. Want to come for dinner?”

  I was about to say that he had homework to do or something (and that of course he’d had the potatoes before, because he had, many, many times), but he spoke before I got the chance.

  “That would be great, thanks. My parents are out at a fund-raiser anyway.”

  “Oh? For what?” Mom asked him. She was sort of friends with Tyler’s mom, and his parents used to go out with my parents sometimes, but since Dad had started his practice, they almost never went out anymore.

  “The historical society,” Tyler answered. “It’s a fancy dinner and dance. They’re getting all dressed up. Dad even had to rent a tuxedo.”

  Mom nodded and then looked at the road, but I could see the sadness in her eyes and the way she gripped the steering wheel really tightly. She wanted to get dressed up too.

  “Maybe after dinner we can watch a movie,” I said, trying to make her feel better.

  “That sounds nice, Kat,” she said. “We haven’t all sat down to watch a movie in a while. You’ll join us too, Tyler?”

  “I have some homework to finish, but if I can get that done before dinner, then yeah. Thanks.”

  Great. So not only was he coming over for dinner, but I was going to have to sit with him through an entire movie, knowing he was going to ask Olivia to the dance.

  And there wasn’t one thing I could do about it.

  Five minutes after Tyler got out of Mom’s car and promised he’d return in time for dinner, I got a text from Olivia.

  Olivia: HE JUST ASKED ME!

  Kat: You don’t have to yell!

  Olivia: SORRY!

  I rolled my eyes.

  Kat: What did you say?

  Olivia: HILARIUS. OF COURSE I SAID YES.

  It was hard not to smile at her goofy texts. She was obviously crazy excited about it, and I was happy for her.

  Mostly. Sort of.

  Olivia: I mean, I will. As soon as you tell me what to say.

  Kat: What are you talking about? Just say yes.

  Olivia: shouldn’t I say it in some special way or something?

  “You’re nuts,” I said out loud, shaking my head.

  Kat: stop thinking so much. Just say yes.

  Olivia: ok. youre going to come to the dance?

  I laughed out loud at that one.

  Kat: no.

  Olivia: pleeeeeeeze

  Kat: no. I’m busy.

  Olivia: doing what?

  Not going to the dance, I thought. I dialed her instead of texting back.

  “Livvy, I’m not going to the dance. That was never part of the deal. And anyway, I’d just be in the way.”

  “No you won’t!” Her voice was panicked. “You can dance with TJ.”

  I sighed. “I told you, I don’t like him.”

  “But . . . I . . . what do I—”

  “Livvy, it’s no different than being with Tyler at school. You’ll do fine.”

  “Not if you’re not there.”

  “Just study your notes.”

  I could almost hear her pouting over the phone. I was relieved when she sighed and said, “Fine. All right.”

  “And remember, this is a dance—it’s your element.”

  “I guess . . . but don’t you think if you—”

  Not this again! “I’ve gotta go,” I said, cutting her off. “I promised Mom I’d help her make dinner.”

  Especially since I’d gone on and on about the scalloped potatoes recipe and now knew it by heart.

  “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, Kat. Seriously, I can’t thank you enough for this! I’m going to pay you back somehow. I’m so excited!”

  I was barely off the phone with her when I got another text. I thought it was going to be her again, but when I looked at the screen, my stomach fluttered.

  Tyler: she said yes.

  Sigh.

  Kat: of course she did. I told you she would.

  Tyler: J see you at dinner.

  Right. Dinner. Awesome.

  Chapter 13

  I THOUGHT THE DAYS LEADING up to the dance would be filled with awkwardness as Tyler and Olivia tried to not be weird about going to the dance together. Instead it seemed like both of them had decided to pretty much ignore each other. I thought that was weird, but Olivia was mostly concerned with her dress and how she would look and Tyler was more concerned with . . . well, I didn’t know what he was concerned with, because I barely saw him. At lunch he sat with some guys from homeroom.

  I felt bad about that, but it was kind of a relief, because while Olivia and Tyler didn’t seem to be feeling awkward, I sure was. I couldn’t wait for it all to be over. I’d had to listen to Olivia go on and on about her dress and shoes (I’d suggested that maybe wearing heels when she was already taller than Tyler wasn’t the best idea, but she said the shoes went with the dress and that was the most important thing, so whatever) and her appointments for her hair and nails. She’d asked if I wanted to come with her to the salon just for fun, but I didn’t see much point in getting myself made up when I’d just be sitting at home in front of the TV anyway. She gave me a long look, and I could tell she wanted to ask me again to come with them, but I glared at her until she looked away without saying a word.

  So by the time Friday came I was actually eager for the dance to happen. I was done hearing about her primping and was pretty over the weirdness between me and Tyler. No matter what happened, his and Olivia’s going to the dance together was going to change things forever. I just hoped it was what she really wanted.

  The second the bell rang, Olivia bolted out of the school to meet her mom so they could rush to the salon, leaving me to take my time at my locker.

  “Hey,” Tyler said, suddenly standing beside me.

  “Hi,” I said. “Shouldn’t you be running home to get ready for the dance too?”

  He looked at me funny. “It’s like four hours from now.”

  Right. Only Olivia needed hours to get ready. “So what are you wearing?”

  He snorted like it was a ridiculous question. “Pants and a shirt,” he said, and then his eyes went wide. “Wait. Why? Should I dress up more than that?”

  I slammed my locker a
nd swung my backpack over my shoulder before turning to him. “Probably. She’s glamming up.”

  “Glamming up?”

  “Come on,” I said, starting to walk toward the door, knowing he’d fall into step beside me. “She’s wearing a fancy dress and shoes and is getting her hair and nails done: glamming up.”

  “Oh.”

  “What’s wrong?” I said, looking at him, not understanding why it would be a problem that she was making herself even more beautiful. For him.

  He took a breath and pushed the door open, holding it so I could walk through. “I don’t know. I guess I’m nervous.”

  We walked down the stairs toward the sidewalk. “Why?”

  “I . . . Kat, it’s me. I don’t go to dances and glam up. I don’t even know how to dance.”

  “You don’t?” I thought back to the ridiculous quiz and how Olivia was expecting to dance every song with him. Yikes.

  He looked at me and shook his head. His face was super red, but honestly, it was the most adorable thing I’d ever seen.

  “Can you help me?” he asked. “Show me how to dance?”

  “No. I’m not exactly a gazelle. What do I know about dancing?”

  He swallowed. “I’m dead.”

  “No you’re not,” I said. “Come to my house. Maybe my mom can help. She used to be a cheerleader.”

  “That’s weird,” he said. “Getting your mom to show me how to dance.”

  “Probably,” I agreed. “But less weird than showing up to a dance without being able to dance at all.”

  He nodded. “Good point.”

  On one hand, our asking Mom to show Tyler how to dance turned out to be the highlight of her week. On the other, it was totally mortifying for me and Tyler.

  Wait, no, not totally mortifying. I mean TOTALLY MORTIFYING.

  Of course, the second I told her he needed her help, she jumped up, grabbed her iPhone, and lined up a playlist. After a couple of seconds she led us into the living room and popped her phone into the speaker dock.

  “Okay, so let’s start with fast dancing,” she said as the song began. Perfect—it was a recent 5Style song. Although it wasn’t something I would listen to, there was a good chance they’d play it at the dance, and Olivia was definitely going to want to dance to it.

  Mom started busting moves right there in the middle of the living room. We just stood there and watched. She actually wasn’t bad, moving her feet and hips. She was even smiling like she was enjoying herself, and it seemed to come naturally. Weird.

  She waved us over. “Come on, this is a participation thing.”

  “I’m not going to the dance, so I don’t need to learn,” I said, dropping onto the couch.

  “You still need to learn how to dance, missy. You’re going to start getting invited to bat mitzvahs soon,” she said. Then, when I groaned and rolled my eyes, she added in her serious I’m not taking no for an answer voice, “Let’s go, Kat. Now.”

  Tyler was already at her left side, so with a big sigh I rose and stood to her right. I suddenly hoped Tyler was focused enough on Mom and his own feet that he wouldn’t notice that I had zero idea what I was doing. Clearly, I wasn’t a gazelle. Nor did I share my mom’s dance genes.

  “So first you need to get the beat,” she said. “Just slide your feet side to side with the music.”

  I watched what she was doing. While she definitely looked like she was more from the gazelle family than the warthog one, stepping side to side didn’t seem too complicated. I copied her, though I wasn’t sure what to do with my arms, so I just left them at my sides.

  “Don’t think too hard,” Mom said after a minute. “Just feel the beat.”

  I felt like I was copying her pretty well, but then I realized maybe she wasn’t talking to me, so I peeked over at Tyler. He had this look on his face like he was in pain: His forehead was all scrunched up, and his mouth was open in a grimace. Not his best look, even with that cute piece of hair hanging in his eyes. Not to mention that he couldn’t seem to find the rhythm of the music.

  Yeah, she was definitely talking to him.

  “I . . . I . . . um . . . this is hard,” he said, seeming to struggle with talking and moving his feet (I couldn’t call what he was doing dancing).

  “Okay, hold on,” Mom said as she stopped dancing. “Let’s try this. Snap your fingers on the beat.” She started snapping along with the music. I was about to tell her that if Tyler went to the dance and just stood there snapping his fingers, he was asking to be laughed at. Then I realized she was trying to get him to find the beat in a way that was less complicated.

  Trying to be encouraging, I started snapping too. I looked at him, hoping he could manage this.

  He did. But just barely.

  “You hear the music, right?” I asked. Because I couldn’t understand how it was such a struggle for him to snap along.

  “Yeah,” he said, narrowing his eyes at me. “I’m just not good with music. Put a zombie in front of me any day, but this . . . ?” He didn’t bother finishing.

  “Come on,” Mom said, still snapping. “You can do this.”

  After another twenty minutes and seven songs, it turned out he couldn’t do it. Not well, anyway, and not for every song. He was getting more and more nervous, so after a quick glance at me, Mom stopped the music.

  “Okay, so fast dancing isn’t your strong point.”

  No kidding.

  “What about slow dancing?”

  Tyler shrugged and blushed. “Won’t that be worse?”

  Mom shook her head. “Not necessarily. It’s slower, and there’s not really a beat you have to follow.” She went over to her phone and started scrolling. “Let me just find a couple of songs. Kat, get ready.”

  “What?”

  She looked up at me. “He needs to practice with someone.”

  Huh? “Why can’t he practice with you?”

  She gave me a look that didn’t explain anything but told me she wasn’t about to dance with him, then returned to scrolling through her music. “Okay, here are a few.”

  She started up the first song and then returned to the middle of the floor and grabbed each of us by an arm, tugging us until we were facing each other. I wondered if his face felt as hot as mine did. And if mine looked as red as his was. Probably.

  “So there are two ways you can do this,” she said, seeming not to notice how horribly embarrassed the kids in front of her were. “The old-fashioned way: Kat, put your left hand on his right shoulder—go on; do this while I’m talking—and Tyler, you put your right hand on her waist. No, a bit higher. There. Now Tyler, you take Kat’s right hand with your left and hold them up sort of shoulder height. Good.”

  Tyler’s hand was a bit damp, or maybe mine was, but all I could really think about was that we were holding hands. We’d touched each other before, of course, but that was more like tripping or play punching or trying to knock each other out of the tree that grew between our houses. This was different. We’d never held hands.

  I wanted to look at him to see if he was feeling as strange and panicky about this as I was, but I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes. Too weird!

  “Okay, now you move,” Mom said, breaking into my thoughts.

  “Move how?” I asked.

  Mom seemed to consider it for a second. “You know what? You’re twelve, no need to complicate things. Just sort of go around in circles. Tiny movements with your feet.”

  “Which way?” Tyler asked.

  “It doesn’t matter. Say clockwise. Lead forward with your hand that’s holding Kat’s.”

  We didn’t move.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Mom said, stepping right up to us and getting behind Tyler. She put a hand on his upper arm and the other where his and my hands were joined and sort of nudged. “Just move slowly around. See?”

  I felt the toe of Tyler’s shoe bump mine, and he muttered, “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” I said without looking at him.

&nbs
p; “You’re doing great,” Mom said, stepping back away from us. “Now try to relax your shoulders a bit.”

  I forced my shoulders down and felt Tyler do the same under my hand.

  “Now, the most important part,” Mom said. “Look at each other and smile. Make sure the person you’re dancing with knows you’re not being tortured.”

  The way she said it made me laugh, but it was still hard to look into Tyler’s eyes. Was dancing always this awkward, or just with him?

  “Go on, you two are friends! It’s just a dance. You can surely smile at each other.”

  MOM! I wanted to yell, but I didn’t want to let on that I was feeling so weird in case it was just me. Finally, I looked up at him. He kind of did look like he was being tortured. Ugh. I gave him a weak smile that I didn’t really feel.

  “Good. Now don’t forget to keep moving,” Mom said.

  “Oops,” Tyler said, starting to move us around again.

  We did almost three turns around until the song ended, and then we let each other go, backing up. Tyler wiped his palms on his jeans, so I did the same.

  Mom snorted. “Okay, so the other way—”

  “I think he’s good,” I interrupted, not really wanting to do more even though a new song had come on.

  “Kat,” she said. “Just chill out, okay? Five more minutes.”

  It wasn’t exactly about the time, but . . . I looked at Tyler, and while he didn’t seem eager to do more dancing, he wasn’t running away. I exhaled. “Fine.”

  Mom stepped toward us and put her hand on my back, gently pushing me into Tyler. “Okay, this time, Kat, you put both of your hands on his shoulders, and Tyler, you hold her waist in the same spot, but on both sides. Movement is the same with your feet.”

  We started moving around in a circle again.

  “Good,” she said.

  This way meant we weren’t holding hands, but it felt closer with both of his warm hands on my sides and with our faces lined up more. I sort of had to look at him. Well, I looked at his nose, avoiding his eyes at all costs. Though his nose wasn’t very interesting, so I looked at his mouth. His lips were pressed together, which I knew meant he was thinking very hard. I focused on a tiny freckle just above his mouth that I’d never noticed before.