Page 59 of Power Moves
Archie seems to be with his footy crowd. Big dudes, slim girls, everyone very shiny and hot, despite the mud. He keeps doing stupid dance moves like the lawn mower and everyone is laughing as though he’s hilarious.
I shimmy around to face the opposite direction and try to focus on the music. This is my Zen place. Dancing. Whipping my hair. Making eye contact with Maxy’s friends and smiling at them as if I’m the cool sister. The DJ duo has finished up and now a rapper in a gold tracksuit is jumping on the stage while dancers in pink knee-high boots gyrate around him. Suddenly the rapper is yelling, ‘I want to see every homie with a lady in the air!’
Out of nowhere, a guy in a stringlet plucks me off the ground and hoists me onto his shoulders. With a hammeringheart, I strain my neck to see his face and the septum ring confirms it’s definitely not one of Maxy’s friends. I have never met this guy in my life.
‘Let me down!’ I scream, swinging my legs wildly, trying to wriggle off.
The guy is clearly off his face and hardly reacts when I kick my gumboot hard into his chest. It only takes a split-second for the fear to harden like ice in my throat. ‘Maxy!’ I gasp, but he can’t hear me. He’s too distracted by the performance, as is Jessie.
I feel anxiety rising through my chest but then suddenly an arm is around my waist and I’m being pulled off Stringlet Dude’s shoulders.
‘You okay, Millsy?’ Archie yells over the music.
I’d assumed it would have been one of Maxy’s friends rescuing me. ‘I’m fine!’ I snap, mortified.
‘This is where you say thanks!’
‘I didn’t ask to be saved!’
‘Millsy, you were about to have a panic attack!’
I feel tears welling in my eyes, which is such incredibly bad timing. I do not want Archie Cohen to see me cry, but a complete stranger just tossed me around like I was a rag doll. I have every right to cry!
‘Millsy, come here,’ he says, trying to pull me into a hug.
I feel his hands on my skin, which flares at his touch. My vision is clouding; my mind is turning to jelly.
I try to pull away but the ground is uneven—churned up by hours of rain and moshing—and I feel the momentum gather from the tips of my toes through the ball of my foot. Suddenly my leg is sliding left, gaining speed like a Formula One carexiting the pits. I pitch forward, trying to overcorrect, but the gravity-rush shocks me and I stumble backwards. I see Archie’s eyes widen as my arms start windmilling madly, and there’s just enough time for me to thinkFucking Archie!before I fall straight back into the soup of gelatinous, grey-brown mud.
‘ARGH!!!’ I scream. My two braids are immediately trampled, pulling my head in opposite directions. I try to scramble up but there are human legs everywhere, completely oblivious to the body beneath them as they stomp to the brain-rattling beat. I swerve my head to avoid a giant Air Jordan that’s heading for my face and instead cop a mouthful of mud. I choke, straining for air, but there’s too much dirt in my mouth. I can’t breathe! I’m going to suffocate in this mud. I’m going to be on the front page of theTelegraph: the girl who died at SoulFest!
The panic spurts through me. If they print my current Facebook profile pic, the one of me eating the democracy sausage, it’ll set me up for a never-ending legacy ofDeep Throatjokes. If Jessie is going to earn her stripes as a sister, she MUST give them a better photo. Oh god, I miss her already! I hope she knows how much I love her. And Maxy too! And Dad! My mind is spinning properly now; my thoughts are like a ream of A4 pages caught in a tornado. And the mud! It’s in my hair and my ears and … suddenly a pair of big bear arms are pulling me up andthank ChristArchie is such a sturdy bear of a man!
‘YOU MADE ME FALL!’ I scream. My fear has been replaced by a raging embarrassment that needs to be channelled somewhere.
‘Are you okay?’ Archie yells over the music.
‘What do you reckon?’ I yell, pushing ineffectually at his chest. He is so infuriatingly solid.
‘You’re really soaked!’ he yells back, unhelpfully.
He’s right, though. This mud is freezing and I’m pretty sure it’s seeped through to my undies. People will think I’ve shat myself.
‘Wanna go to my tent?’ Archie yells. ‘I have spare clothes! Clean ones!’
ARGHHHH.My brain performs some nanosecond calculations, which are heavily influenced by the mud that is inching alarmingly close to my vagina.
I look over at Jessie and Maxy. I can see them scanning the crowd for me. I don’t want to ruin their night too.
‘Guys!’ I call, smiling through the imminent hypothermia and death-by-sheer-embarrassment. ‘I had a fall! I’m gonna grab Archie’s spare clothes!’ I jerk my thumb behind me then turn back to Archie before they can argue. I am not letting them cut their night short for me.
‘Okay!’ I yell to Archie. ‘Fix this!’
CHAPTER 27
Archie offers his hand to lead me through the crowd and I shoot him a withering look. I am not holding hands with that buffoon. Instead, I train my eyes on his shirt—it’s the colour of his heart (black) with tiny clouds dotted across it—and start following him.
Despite my sliminess, it is proving very difficult to slide past people. Everyone’s doing the shuffly dance moves these days, and as soon as you think they’ve made space for you, they’re shuffling right back to block your path. This is chaos theory personified.
