“I was hiding.”
He laughs. “Hiding from what?”
Loneliness. “You left, and then Eli left. I didn’t have anyone to talk to, so I just found my way up here.”
Trey makes a face but thankfully lets my antisocial behavior slide. “So are you and Eli cool again? I didn’t have a chance to ask him.”
“No.” I snort, then backtrack. “How much, exactly, did he tell you?”
“Not much.” He shrugs. “He said you got into a fight and stopped speaking. He didn’t go into a lot of detail, and he only brought it up once. We really just got in touch again recently, like within the past couple months.”
“Oh,” I say. “Well, yesterday was the first time I’d talked to him in over a year.” I pause, realizing I don’t feel like going into detail, either. “He’s changed a lot since you moved.”
Trey smiles softly. “Maybe go a little easier on him. He’s been going through some stuff.”
I start to ask what he means, but Trey switches topics and says, “So this dance audition is pretty big?”
I nod and tell him about Avery Johnson’s conservatory.
“What does your mom think about you going all the way to North Carolina to audition without her? I’m honestly surprised she even let you.”
I look away. “She didn’t.”
“She didn’t?”
“She’s on vacation right now. She thinks I’m staying at my best friend’s house.”
Trey starts cracking up. I wish I thought it was as funny as he does. Instead, I just feel guiltier.
“I guess that doesn’t really surprise me,” he says once he’s done laughing. “There was always something kinda fierce about you.”
“Me? Fierce?”
“Yeah,” he says easily. “I mean, only a fierce girl would kiss her friend without any warning at all.”
I groan and bury my face in my hands. “I will never live down that embarrassment.”
“It wasn’t so bad.” Trey gently peels my hands away from my face. “I’m lucky you got to be my first kiss. Honored, even. It could have happened at a random party with some sweaty boy whose mouth tasted like stale garlic bread. That was my second kiss.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Maybe I was fierce then, but I don’t know about now. I broke my ankle last year; I just feel different. Sometimes I can’t tell if I’m actually not dancing well or if it’s just all in my head. Right now, I don’t even know why I decided to go to this audition. It’s starting to feel a little impulsive and ridiculous.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s ridiculous.”
“I still have those bad nightmares,” I say, and he frowns. “I had one about my audition last night.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “You remember what I used to look like before I moved, right?” I nod. “I was skinny and awkward. You should have seen the coach’s face when I showed up at the wrestling tryouts freshman year. He almost laughed me right out of the gym, but I didn’t let him. After I made the team, there were times when I felt stupid for joining. The guys I wrestled against were a lot better than me and I doubted myself all the time, but eventually I just had to say fuck it and push those thoughts out of my head because I was never going to get better.”
He nods his head at me. “You’re having those dreams because you’re doubting yourself, and you have to stop. You’ve danced way longer than I’ve wrestled,” he says. “If I can do it, you can do it. Once fierce, always fierce.”
I smile. I don’t feel less doubtful necessarily, but I do feel better. He’s always had a way of brightening my mood. “Thanks, Trey.”
We sit in a comfortable silence. It’s like no time has passed between us at all. My life would be so different if he never moved. I wouldn’t have been upset when Eli started ninth grade and ditched me. And I would’ve had someone to show me around the high school once I started, a friendly face to teach me the ins and outs.
But then again, if Trey never moved, I wouldn’t have met Reina, because her family moved into his house, and Trey wouldn’t have met Eric. And we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.
“What do you say we rejoin the party?” Trey says.
I shrug. I’d rather not, but I let him pull me up anyway, and we head downstairs. The party has found its way into the living room, and a crowd has formed around a boy who looks like he might be dancing, but I’m not really sure because he’s just flailing his arms and spinning in a circle. Everyone is cheering him on, though, so it makes me wonder if this is what people around here consider to be good dancing skills. The boy must have been at it for a long time because his cheeks are red, and his Wilson High Wrestling T-shirt is covered in sweat stains.
Trey takes one look at his teammate and rolls his eyes. “He gets drunk and does this at every party.” He motions for me to follow him into the kitchen, but the living-room crowd is so thick, we’re quickly separated.
As I watch Trey get farther away from me, the dancing boy finally grows dizzy from all his spinning and flailing and begins to stumble. The crowd parts for him and he crashes onto the floor right in front of me. He closes his eyes and groans.
“Are you okay?” I ask, leaning down a little.
He opens his eyes. They’re bloodshot. He rolls onto his side, facing me, and groans again.
“Wow…” he says slowly, “that’s a sick scar. How’d you get it?” I realize he’s staring at my ankle. He reaches out a meaty hand and runs his fingers along my scar.
“Uh, it was an accident.” I try to pull away, but then he wraps his fingers around my ankle and holds on.
“Hey, wait. Don’t leave.” He finally looks up at me. “Do I know you?”
“No.” I tug away harder, but he still won’t let go.
He blinks a few times like he can’t see straight. “You sure? I swear I’ve seen you before.”
“No. Let go, please.”
“Come on, Ben,” another boy says, laughing. “Leave her alone.”
I frantically search for Trey, but he’s nowhere to be found. Then I spot him and Eric standing in the kitchen entryway. They’re hugging. I want them to make up, of course, but do they have to do it right now? I call Trey’s name, and he turns around. When he sees me, he and Eric immediately start pushing their way back through the crowd.
“Let go of me,” I say to the boy, who I think is named Ben.
“Can you help me up?” he slurs. Then he burps. Oh my God. Is he going to throw up on me? I’ve already thrown up on myself. Isn’t that enough? “And then can I get your number?”
Before I have a chance to tell him that will never happen, two hands grab the back of Ben’s T-shirt and yank him up, startling him into releasing my ankle. Then he’s shoved back to the ground.
I jump back in surprise. Suddenly Geezer is barking in front of me. What the heck just happened?
“That’s her bad ankle, you dumbass,” Eli says, standing over Ben.
The entire living-room crowd gathers around us and I wonder where all these people were when Ben wouldn’t let go of me.
Eli turns to me. “You all right?”
I nod and look down at my ankle. The skin is red where Ben grabbed me, but otherwise I’m fine.
Seconds later, Trey and Eric are both at my side.
“Are you okay?” Eric asks.
“I’m so sorry.” Trey spares a brief glance at his teammate who’s on the ground, moaning. “Ben’s an idiot. I didn’t even invite him.” He turns to Eric. “I swear I didn’t invite him.”
“It’s okay. I’m okay,” I say, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Trey, do you think you can give us a ride back now, please?”
“Of course, of course.”
We say good-bye to Eric, and we ignore the crowd as we follow Trey outside to his car.
“Eli!”
We all turn around. The blond with the dark roots is running down the driveway. Eli swears under his breath.
“I forgot to give you my number,�
�� she says once she’s right in front of him.
Eli takes a step backward. “I’ll, uh, get it from Trey.”
Her face falls. “But—”
“Nice meeting you.” He rushes to Trey’s Jeep, and he and Geezer quickly climb inside.
She stares, slightly shocked. Then she spins on her heel and storms back up the driveway.
Trey looks at me and raises an eyebrow.
I shrug. “That’s typical Eli for you.”
But do you know what isn’t typical Eli behavior? Him standing up for me.
“Thank you,” I say to him once I’m in the car, too.
He shrugs. Nonchalance. Typical Eli again.
* * *
I feel sad saying good-bye to Trey as we pull into the motel parking lot. He and Eli say good-bye first, and then Eli leads Geezer away toward our room.
I hug Trey tightly. I’m so happy that I got to see him, even if it was only for a little while.
“I never thanked you for keeping my secret back then,” he says.
I pull away. “You don’t have to thank me.”
“How would you feel if I asked you to make another promise?” he asks. “Let’s promise we won’t let another three years go by before we meet up again.”
We smile at each other. I hook my pinky in his.
“I promise,” I say.
“Let me know how your audition goes,” he says. “And remember what I said. Once fierce, always fierce.”
He beeps his horn as he drives out of the parking lot. I send him good vibes and hope they’ll last until the next time I see him. And I really hope that he and Eric can work things out.
Eli is standing at our room door, holding it open for me.
He watches me curiously as I slide past him, inside. “What were you guys talking about?”
I feel myself smile. “Nothing.”
Chapter 10
Self-Defense
MONDAY
I wake up gasping for breath, like I’ve just run a marathon.
I had the dream again. Just like last night, Avery Johnson asked me to do fouetté turns while wearing my Homecoming dress and heels, and my ankle snapped. I can still feel the terrifying sensation of falling. I stare up at the ceiling and remind myself that it was only a dream and try to ignore the tight knot that’s formed in my stomach. I breathe in and out slowly to the rhythm of Geezer’s snores. I sit up and rub my ankle, running my finger over the scar.
Trey told me that if I want the nightmares to stop, I have to stop doubting myself. But he didn’t say how. When I think of fierce women, I think of Beyoncé and Michelle Obama and Oprah Winfrey. I doubt before a concert or speaking engagement that they have nightmares and wake up sticky with their own sweat.
There’s only two days left until the audition. Then these nightmares will end. But knowing it’s so close doesn’t make me feel much better.
Have you left him on the side of the road yet?
That’s the text Reina sends me as we’re waiting for Jay Sanchez to pick us up and take us back to his shop.
I text back: Nope. He’s still here.
there’s still time. I’ll check in again later tonight
I almost tell her about how Eli stuck up for me last night, but it won’t make much of a difference. Reina just doesn’t like Eli. She thinks he’s too arrogant. The type of boy who knows he’s good-looking and uses it to his advantage. It doesn’t help that when she first moved into Trey’s old house, Eli tricked her into believing that Trey and his mom still owned the house and they were going to come back and kick Reina’s family out at any moment.
Mostly, though, she doesn’t like him because of the way he hurt me.
She texts me pictures of shoe options for prom and asks which ones will look best with her dress. That’s all everyone at school is talking about these days. Everyone except me, since I’m not going to prom. I haven’t had the best luck with school dances. Plus, Reina is going with a boy named Greg that she knows from theater club, and I don’t want to play third wheel.
I wonder if Eli is going. It’s his senior year after all. I bet he thinks he’s too cool for it, though.
“Did you learn self-defense in P.E. last semester?” he suddenly asks, peeking over my shoulder.
I nearly jump out of my skin. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
“Did you learn self-defense in P.E. last semester?” he repeats.
I blink. What a random question. “No.”
He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Why not?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even remember it being an option.”
“Listen, you need to know how to defend yourself. Especially if you plan on living in New York City. An innocent girl like you is the perfect victim.”
I roll my eyes. “You sound like my mom.”
“I never thought I’d have anything in common with your mom, but we’re both right.”
“I’ll carry pepper spray.”
“What if you can’t get to it fast enough?”
“I’ll kick him between the legs.”
He laughs. “Who said it was a guy?”
“I’ll … I’ll punch her in the boobs.” But no, that seems so wrong. Then again, if I’m being attacked, I guess it won’t matter what I think is right or wrong.
Eli squares his shoulders. “Let’s role-play really quick,” he says. “I’m going to try and grab you, and I want you to find a way to protect yourself.”
“What?”
“I want you to hit me.”
“No.” I back away. “I don’t want to hit you.”
“Just try, Chloe.” He looks so serious. “This is something you should know how to do.”
Knowing that he’s right is annoying. “Fine.”
“Okay,” he says, and before I have a second to prepare myself, he lunges for me. I try to twist out of his grasp, but it’s hard because his arms are so long. The last time we were this close, we were in middle school and I was wrestling him in my front yard because he unzipped my book bag and stole my Doritos. I didn’t feel butterflies then, and I hate that I feel them right now.
I elbow him in his side, and he loosens his hold a little bit, but not that much. I wriggle around in his arms until he finally lets go. Geezer trots around us, wagging his tail. He probably thinks we’re playing a game.
“That was bad,” Eli says. “Try again.”
This time when he reaches for me, I back away and punch him in his shoulder with all my might. I use so much force that I hurt my knuckles. Eli barely flinches. It only slows him down for a second until he has his arms around me again.
“You’re not playing to your strengths,” he says when he lets me go.
“What does that even mean?!” Now I’m agitated. And why haven’t those stupid butterflies gone away?
“You know your body,” he says. “Where are you the strongest?”
I think about this for a second, and … of course, my legs! All that ballet muscle.
This time when Eli comes at me, I wind my left leg back and kick him hard, right in his shin like I’m doing a grand battement. He bends over and winces. “Shit.”
“Sorry!” I gasp. “You told me to do it!”
“I know, I know.” He groans a little, rubbing his shin. “It’s fine. Good job.”
Of course this is the moment that Jay Sanchez drives up. He rolls down his window, concern written all over his face.
“Are you okay?” he says, but he’s looking at me. He probably thinks I kicked Eli for a reason, that he did something bad to me.
“I’m fine!” My voice is high and nervous. “We’re fine!”
Eli stands up and forces a smile. I can tell by the way his mouth twitches that his shin still hurts. “We were just messing around.”
Jay still looks a little skeptical. “Okay,” he says slowly.
He takes us back to his shop, and the bumper on my car is all fixed. As I’m inspecting it, Eli pays Jay with his credit card.
; “So,” he says when we’re finally in my car. “Where to now?”
It’s weird that I can go anywhere I want without having to ask Mom. Where do I want to go? How do normal people behave when they have this kind of freedom?
I search my brain for ideas but come up empty. “I honestly don’t know.”
“That motel we just stayed in was trash,” he says, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. He looks over at me. “I know a better place in D.C. It’s mad fancy. I stayed there before with my dad.”
“I’ve still never been to D.C.,” I say. “I’d be down for that.”
“D.C. it is.” Then he says, “Wait, one more thing. I want to suggest an amendment to the rule about not playing my music in your car.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”
“What if we make a combined playlist, some of the music both of us like?”
I mull this over. I don’t want to spend the next couple hours listening to commercials and Top 40 stations, either.
“I guess that’s all right,” I say.
It takes a bunch of back and forth, but when we stop to fill up the gas tank, we come up with a pretty decent playlist. Eli picks songs from Kendrick Lamar, Jay Z, and Chance the Rapper. I add some Jorja Smith, Frank Ocean, and Solange. The first song that plays is Solange’s “Losing You.” Eli cringes, and I wait for him to throw another fit, but he eventually starts to nod his head along to the beat. I guess Solange has that effect on even the most bothersome of people.
Then it’s: so long, Delaware.
Chapter 11
Our Nation’s Capital
There are lots of tourists in D.C., but I didn’t expect to see so many businesspeople. The men are dressed in sleek suits and carry briefcases, and the women brush past us in their high heels. I pull self-consciously at the hem of my Soffe shorts and wish my sneakers weren’t scuffed. I wish I were wearing one of my sundresses. I feel so out of place.
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