1.17 pm. I sit in my St. Eoins G.A.A shorts, watching Dirty Dancing for the third time this morning. I watch Patrick Swazey as Johnny, and the way he moves, his every turn is bold, confident, cool. I find myself skipping to the part of the film where Johnny and Baby perform "Time of My Life" and I watch the scene repeatedly, and intently. I pause the movie after the dance ends and I open my laptop and click into YouTube for the dance routine, my fingers tapping in "'Time of My Life'-Dirty Dancing choreography" on the keyboard.
I click on the first video that comes up, but the quality isn't all that great, so I can't see it. I move on to the next video. This time, the quality is great, and the dance is explained; step-by-step by a tanned, brunette girl with an English accent.
She takes me through flicks, turns, jumps, twists, lifts, the whole shebang, and by four o' clock that afternoon, all I need is a partner.
I sit down and grab my phone. Typing in the password, I send a text message to Zoë: hey Zoë :) I was just wondering if you're free on Monday afternoon to start rehearsing? -Adrian
I stretch my arms up above my head and wait for a reply. Sure enough, about six minutes later, my phone buzzes with a text from Zoë: hi Adrian, Monday sounds great :p how's 4.15?
A small smile creeps onto my face, and I find myself typing: perfect, see you then, gorgeous ;) I then wonder if it's too much, but eventually I just send it.
God, I can't wait for Monday.... never thought I'd say that!
YOU ARE READING
AGE
General FictionZoë is thirteen. She doesn't have many friends, but she is wise beyond her years. She longs to act, and she joins the school drama group where she meets a boy. Adrian is sixteen. He is studying for his Leaving Cert next year- an aspiring musician...
