Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > .all.the.days.
Step right, step right, grab his right hand,, spin in, grab his left hand, sway left, sway right, spin out, step left, step left . . .
“This is weird,” Gerard said.
I turned around, frustrated. “Maybe it would be less weird if you’d quit stopping every other second!”
Gerard and I were taking study hall to rehearse in the empty school theater, and this was at least the tenth time he’d interrupted our practice, each time citing different reasons.
He sighed. “I’m standing on the left,” he said. “You’re on the right. Everything I’m doing with Lindsay is the exact opposite of what you’re doing.”
“It’s the same thing, backwards,” I said. “What’s so hard about it?”
“The fact that it’s reversed.” He stuck his hands in his pockets.
I folded my arms. “It’s not rocket science,” I said. “I mean, for this part, all you’re really doing is standing there. I’m the one who’s moving around.”
“And you’re grabbing my right hand when I’m used to Lindsay grabbing my left.”
“I said that we’d reverse after I was finished!”
“Well, when are you going to be finished?”
“We’ve only been doing this for five minutes!”
“It’s been longer than that.”
“No, it hasn’t — who cares.”
He folded his arms, too, and we stared at each other.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll be Lindsay.”
I walked over to the spot where Lindsay would normally be, and went over reversing the steps I usually did in my head.
“Ready?” I said.
Gerard grunted, but I felt him step into place beside me.
“Five, six, seven, eight,” I counted, then stepped.
Step left, step left, grab his left hand, spin in, grab his right hand, sway right, sway left, spin out, step right, step right . . .
“Was that so hard?” I asked, turning to him.
“Lindsay doesn’t turn in as fast as you do,” he said.
I glared at him. “What, did you stay up all night or something?”
“No.”
“Well, you really need to stop being such a pain in the ass.”
“Maybe you could do the steps right.”
“I just did them right!” I snapped. “Which is a lot more than I can say that you did for me. I’m also not whining, like SOMEONE I could mention.”
“You’re kind of whining now.”
“Shut up.” I turned away and ran my hands through my hair, completely frustrated.
Maybe the stress was just getting to both of us. Rehearsals every night, two shows to remember, practicing during the day . . . And the usual load of homework and everything . . .
“You want to go over it again?” Gerard said meekly.
I turned around. I decided to take this as an apology. “Sure,” I said, equally meekly. “As Lindsay or me?”
“You,” he said.
Clearly, he was sorry after all.
We went over the steps again.
“I think we nailed it that time,” Gerard said after I’d finished and turned back around to face him.
“I’m inclined to agree,” I said.
We went over the dance a few more times before stopping and spending the rest of the period reading lines from We Never Were.
I’m not sure if the nerves were just getting to me or what, but it felt like I couldn’t remember my lines for the life of me. Gerard didn’t seem to have that problem, though, and it was making me even more nervous.
“This is weird,” Gerard said.
I turned around, frustrated. “Maybe it would be less weird if you’d quit stopping every other second!”
Gerard and I were taking study hall to rehearse in the empty school theater, and this was at least the tenth time he’d interrupted our practice, each time citing different reasons.
He sighed. “I’m standing on the left,” he said. “You’re on the right. Everything I’m doing with Lindsay is the exact opposite of what you’re doing.”
“It’s the same thing, backwards,” I said. “What’s so hard about it?”
“The fact that it’s reversed.” He stuck his hands in his pockets.
I folded my arms. “It’s not rocket science,” I said. “I mean, for this part, all you’re really doing is standing there. I’m the one who’s moving around.”
“And you’re grabbing my right hand when I’m used to Lindsay grabbing my left.”
“I said that we’d reverse after I was finished!”
“Well, when are you going to be finished?”
“We’ve only been doing this for five minutes!”
“It’s been longer than that.”
“No, it hasn’t — who cares.”
He folded his arms, too, and we stared at each other.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll be Lindsay.”
I walked over to the spot where Lindsay would normally be, and went over reversing the steps I usually did in my head.
“Ready?” I said.
Gerard grunted, but I felt him step into place beside me.
“Five, six, seven, eight,” I counted, then stepped.
Step left, step left, grab his left hand, spin in, grab his right hand, sway right, sway left, spin out, step right, step right . . .
“Was that so hard?” I asked, turning to him.
“Lindsay doesn’t turn in as fast as you do,” he said.
I glared at him. “What, did you stay up all night or something?”
“No.”
“Well, you really need to stop being such a pain in the ass.”
“Maybe you could do the steps right.”
“I just did them right!” I snapped. “Which is a lot more than I can say that you did for me. I’m also not whining, like SOMEONE I could mention.”
“You’re kind of whining now.”
“Shut up.” I turned away and ran my hands through my hair, completely frustrated.
Maybe the stress was just getting to both of us. Rehearsals every night, two shows to remember, practicing during the day . . . And the usual load of homework and everything . . .
“You want to go over it again?” Gerard said meekly.
I turned around. I decided to take this as an apology. “Sure,” I said, equally meekly. “As Lindsay or me?”
“You,” he said.
Clearly, he was sorry after all.
We went over the steps again.
“I think we nailed it that time,” Gerard said after I’d finished and turned back around to face him.
“I’m inclined to agree,” I said.
We went over the dance a few more times before stopping and spending the rest of the period reading lines from We Never Were.
I’m not sure if the nerves were just getting to me or what, but it felt like I couldn’t remember my lines for the life of me. Gerard didn’t seem to have that problem, though, and it was making me even more nervous.
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