Page 52 of Pride High

“How can anyone believe this junk actually works?” he asked with a grin.

“For real!” she said, putting the deck of cards down before they left.

They went to a music store next. It didn’t take long for Silvia and Anthony to lose themselves in a coded conversation, naming bands and musicians that sounded like absolute nonsense to her. She watched with concern, reminded of all the times that boys had flirted with them at the pool or the mall. Without fail, the guys would fixate on Silvia, making Mindy feel like she was invisible. Or worse.

She kept trying to find a way to contribute to the conversation that Anthony and Silvia were having, but she really had no clue about the bands they talked about. That’s when she noticed posters on the other side of the store and went to browse them. She regretted this a few minutes later when Omar came to join her.

“Hey,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of their friends. “We’ll need to get some tranquilizer darts from the zoo. It’s the only way we’re leaving here before sundown.”

Mindy snorted. “No kidding.” She resumed flipping through the posters, which were in plastic frames and attached to the wall, like some sort of strange book.

“Looking to spice up your room?” Omar asked.

The current posters were made for blacklights and featured psychedelic imagery, like mushrooms and hookah-smoking caterpillars. “Uh… No.” She turned to the next set, hoping that would end the conversation.

“He’s kinda cute!” Omar said, referring to a Grateful Dead poster that had a walking bear on it.

“Not my style,” Mindy said curtly.

“Dude!” Omar exclaimed suddenly. “I love this song.Aaaah-Aaaaaahhh!”

He was singing along to the building chorus. She stared at his tonsils while he did so, even more surprised when the song shifted to a funky beat and Omar started shaking his hips. “You know this one?” he asked while grinning.

“I don’t think so.”

“You’ll recognize it,” he said. “Just wait for the chorus.”

He was right. David Bowie began singing and it clicked.

“You’ve got it,” Omar said, reading her face. “‘Let’s dance!’” He said this perfectly timed with the chorus. Omar was moving his arms now, and his feet soon followed. “So do you wanna?”

“Dance?” she asked incredulously.

“That’s what I’m doing. And what you said you wanted. The nightclub. Remember?”

She made a face. “You’re not my date.”

Omar glanced over his shoulder briefly while still moving to the rhythm. “Anthony? You’ll never get him on the dance floor. Not in a million years. Doesn’t matter how much he claims to like music. He doesn’t get this part of it.”

“And you do?”

“These moves don’t lie,” Omar said. “C’mon!”

He backed up, making room for her. Mindy watched him shimmy and felt herself beginning to sway.

“That’s right,” Omar said, tossing his shopping bag aside. “You’re feeling it!”

The truth was, Mindy loved to dance. Usually with the bedroom door shut and locked, but only because she didn’t like to be interrupted.

David Bowie stopped singing, replaced by Madonna’s “Into the Groove,” and she couldn’t resist any longer. She had a soft spot for eighties music.

“Damn!” Omar exclaimed as Mindy raised her arms above her head and spun in a circle.

Soon they were both laughing while shaking their bodies. Omar could really dance too! He wasn’t acting up or flailing around. He had moves! They grinned at each other as the musicfaded. Then a slow song by Crowded House began playing.

“No thanks!” Mindy said when he offered his hand, but she was laughing. “How’d you learn to dance like that?”

“My parents,” Omar explained while fetching his shopping bag. “They love to dance, and not just at weddings or whatever. They always dragged me and my sister to this weird restaurant downtown that had a dance floor. I think it’s closed now, but yeah, we’d eat and then shake our butts.” He grimaced. “Which means I was always stuck dancing with my sister. We tried to make it fun instead of gross.”

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