Page 58 of Power Moves
He pokes my shoulder.
‘Ow.’
Maxy’s mouth curves up. ‘Calm down.’
‘I’m super calm.’ I give him an exaggerated glare but it fades at his sceptical expression. ‘Sorry. It’s just the mud. It’s very …’
‘Muddy?’ suggests Maxy.
I ruffle his hair. ‘And that’s why I work in communications and you do … mine-y stuff.’ (I still have no idea what he does.)
‘The trick with the mud is to stamp through it,’ explains Maxy. ‘If you’re too careful, that’s when you slip up. You’ve got to be forceful. Dance as hard as you can. Full aggression.’
‘I can be aggressive.’
‘I know.’
I smile. ‘How do you know so much about mud dancing?’
Maxy shrugs. ‘Mine-y stuff.’
I giggle and we take two paltry steps forward. ‘These guys are awesome,’ I say, inclining my head towards the distant stage where a rollicking mix of Sheryl Crow and Smash Mouth is pumping through the speakers.
Maxy nods. ‘I’ve been wanting to see them for ages.’
‘Then why aren’t you back there dancing, you winkipop?’
Maxy pokes me in the shoulder again. ‘Because my little sister needed a breather.’
‘Maxy!’ I cry. ‘Go back to Jessie and the others right now and I’ll bring you your drinks. Go! Now!’
Maxy waves his hand dismissively. ‘There’s nowhere I’d rather be, Millsy Moo-cow.’ Then he pokes me again just to be annoying.
After we finally buy our six overpriced seltzers, I try to rush us back to the stage so Maxy doesn’t miss any more of theset but he leisurely trails behind me, as if to emphasise his complete equanimity.
‘Hooray!’ cries Jessie when she spots us. Her hair is filled with sparkly butterfly clips that glint under the coloured lights. She grabs two seltzers and slides them into the pockets of her bike shorts that are half covered by her rainbow crochet dress. I briefly wonder whether she’ll stop the vigorous leg movements to minimise the drink shakeage, but nope. Within seconds she’s doing more high-knees manoeuvres.
Maxy nudges me with his shoulder.Full aggression, he mouths.
At that moment, the opening notes drop on one of our all-time favourite anthems: gloriously cringeful Blink 182. If there was ever a moment for cathartically aggressive dancing, I know with every molecule of my body that this is it. In unison, the three of us soar into the sky and splash back down into the mud, our faces all assembled in the same crazed expression we implicitly understand to mean:How fricking good?!
As the chorus picks up, the crowd roars in approval.This, I remember, is what life is all about: dancing, singing, being total dipshits with my favourite people in the universe.
‘Nailed it!’ cries Maxy, hauling us towards him when the song ends. My mouth tips open, brimming with laughter, as we stumble into the group hug, and my neck swivels to avoid a head clash. That’s when I spot him about ten metres away.
My face-wide grin falls in disbelief. I crane my neck further and blink three times to check I’m not imagining things.
I haven’t seen Archie without a suit on in years. I wriggle out of Maxy’s embrace and march over. Archie spots me whenI’m about five metres away and I watch his face contort in confusion, then disbelief, but by the time I’m next to him, his expression is one of wicked glee.
‘Why aren’t you working?’ I demand, pointing at his chest.
‘Why aren’tyouworking?’ he retorts, in a tone that indicates he is definitely playing the copying game. He grins and starts doing the robot. I pretend it’s not happening.
‘I’m going back over here to do my cool dance moves,’ I yell, turning away from him. ‘Don’t watch me.’
‘Don’t watchme,’ he calls as I stride back through the throng of bodies.
I lift my arms to get back to raising the roof but now I’ve noticed Archie, I can’t stop looking at him. I imagine this is what happens when Byron Bay locals spot a Hemsworth brother in town. It’s surprisingly difficult to play it cool.
