So whatever you must do
Do it now
So he decided to drive. All I can say is that if he gets into a wreck I have no sympathy. No one who hit their head that hard against the pavement should be driving. I decide not to go to my last four classes. There’s not point. All it’s going to be is boring introduction shit anyway. Climbing into my black BMW convertible, a birthday present from the Bryar’s, I just sit there. The family is loaded. I couldn’t have asked for a better adoptive family. The Bryar’s are the sweetest people I’ve ever come across.
Too bad my life sucks. I’ll only get to enjoy my family for a few more weeks.
My car clock says I still have five hours until I can head to the far side of town and participate in the one activity that actually makes me happy. I wonder how Mikey is doing. He just comes off as so miserable. I wish there was a way for me to tell him that things will get better. Then again that would be a lie. Shit never gets better; you either get stronger or give up.
I turn up my Green Day CD as a few preppy kids walk by. They give me dirty look but I ignore them. Those judgmental assholes can go to hell. This is who I am. I refuse to hide it.
I wish Frank was here. We could sit in my car; smoke blunts and complain about life. He really is my best friend. We tell each other everything. I’m actually glad he’s found other friends though. That will make everything so much easier on him. Frank is really the only person I will feel bad about doing this to…Frank and Bob. Those two have been there for me through everything. Perhaps I’ll change my plans just for them, then again probably not.
Around four-thirty I start my car and head towards Newark. Once I arrive at the small dance studio I cut the engine, remove the distributor cap and head inside. I remove my school uniform and change into a pair of black sweats that stop at my knee, a lime green tank top and a black zip up hoodie. My shoes are left in the bag, I dance best in socks.
Our instructor, a woman barely over thirty, stands in front of a wall of mirrors. After we’ve all stretched out the music is turned on, all the dancers flying into the dance. This is the one place where I can just be. One looks at you weird because of your hair or piercings or tattoos. We belong to the music for two hours. After that we retreat back into the people the world wants us to be until the next day.
“And again,” the instructor yells other the music that is on repeat, “Five, six, seven, eight!”
I breathe to the beat of the music, feeling it rushing around in my veins. Nothing can touch me right now. My foot makes impact with the hand of a muscled guy, the tiniest push, a flip and a nearly perfect landing on the balls of my feet.
This is real.