Without love ~ phan

Chapter XVI

Dan's POV

I finally got those flowers back from Phil after a long game of tag and they're now living with the single pink daisy on a shelf, still painfully different in colorage but beautiful all the same. Never would I have thought that he would care enough about me to go out of his way and get me flowers just to make me happy. He didn't even badger me any more about what had brought me to tears the other day. And now it seems I have nothing to worry about because I'm still Phil's rather close friend and Dodie can't take him away from me. Wow, that sounds super selfish. Oh, well. Maybe I am. Sue me.

Coming back to the present, it is now the day that every girl on the Corny Collins show has anticipated from the very start. The Miss. Teenage Hairspray pageant is going to begin any minute now. At first glance one could assume that the whole shebang is just any old episode of the show. It's not a surprise considering the girls wear generally the same dresses and do their hair the same way, except it may be a tad fancier. Instead of average, everyday suits, us gentlemen are all dressed in the same white suit with a black bowtie. Futuristic light fixtures hang from the rafters, closely resembling snowflakes but not quite as intricate or as tiny. And then of course, there is the giant sign that reads, "Miss. Teenage Hairspray" in a loopy font and a scoreboard that will eventually determine everlasting happiness, and the spot as lead dancer on the show, for one skillful, hairspray hoarding chick.

But for the most part, nothing is different because every girl who has ever won has been someone ignorant who covers it up with ghost white foundation or a more powerful parent coming to the rescue. Or both, depending on if your mom is a crabby (see what I did there? ;)) station manager and your name is Amber Vontusell. Opps, said too much. And yes, she's out of Link's life now but we still see her most everyday to dance for our audience and that includes close, one-on-one touching and forced eye contact. It's a miracle she hasn't thrown a fit yet. So it would be an utter disappointment if she wins this time around but equally as expected. And let's just say, none of the other contestants are worthy of my hope.

If only Tracy hadn't been thrown in the slammer. Oh yeah, I haven't mentioned that yet, have I? I'm not going to go into too much detail but let's just say, she was off being her brave, strong, stupid self and got mad at a police officer when he disrespected her black friends. The news reporters say she assaulted him in a pretty violent way that doesn't sound like her at all. Sadly, people believe everything they see on T.V. so Amber's horrible mother is taking the opportunity of her downfall, and using it to keep Amber in the lead. That's another thing, Tracy's a popular member of the Corny Collins show crew now! Her time spent in the detention room has finally paid off and she could be the one to start a revolution by winning the pageant. It sounds made up but it turns out the human race is a little less shallow than it seems. They even want to look like her.

As I'm stark still and reminding myself to not get distracted by a black fringe in the audience, the girls have all finished flouncing. Corny Collins is standing front and center with a gold envelope in his hand. Amber is the first name on the scoreboard and the bar is practically full of votes, therefore varying reactions are limited when he starts to say her name. But then a confident voice comes from the background and I turn to come across Tracy, the one who I thought was locked up, emerging from a shiny rocket with very straight hair and a checkered dress.

It's hilarious to see her approaching Amber with such fierceness, singing and dancing as if she has the world at her fingertips. Finally someone has the nerve to stick up to Amber and it shouldn't surprise me that it's Tracy of all people. Amber however, looks more than a little offended by Tracy's show and while all eyes are following a light catching performance, she runs away in cowardice. Away and straight to Link, because who needs dignity? There isn't room for her in his heart, it's been that way for a while, so in response to her pleading eyes, he shoves her away. It seems that that's where we are now, a life in which Ambers get shoved away and away, and Tracys get cheered on and on.

After that, everything happens at once. I blink and Link is with Tracy, copying her movements as if he's reading a piece of music. My toe taps and there's a little black girl amazing the crowd with a moment she always dreamed of. My heart beats and Amber has fallen into a heap from who knows where and Corny announces the revolutionary truth and the stage is suddenly a checkerboard. And wouldn't ya know it, the happiest people in the whole world are in this room right now. But maybe that's just the twist of my hips and the swing in my step talking.

While mid-jazz hands, someone calls out that everyone is welcome to the stage so of course I don't waste a moment before pulling Phil out from the audience. I have nothing to blame the act of courage on but the unison of black and white artists and the people who have forgotten everything else. The fulfilling togetherness and Phil's clumsy attempts at keeping up with my dancing make me laugh.

More people take their turns to do the metaphorical middle finger at any hater tuning in, singing about their beautiful imperfections. And it makes me think about how imperfections, quirks if you will, are solely based on point of view. One person's bossy may be another person's leader-like, yappy can be interpreted as outgoing, if you're oblivious maybe you're just innocent. In the end we're all just the same species with brains that look exactly alike and only some people understand that.

Now Phil is looking awestruck at something past my shoulder and I turn to see my best friend giving all of his affection to a girl who deserves it. They're kissing and Phil and I are the only ones who care enough to stare, the only ones who have been through the journey. It's the first time I've been standing still for hours but I don't think I'm using it to catch my breath. I'm using it to see.

I see my childhood, the happiest years of my life coming undone before me. The bits and pieces and nuts and bolts all stuck to the back of my mind, merely a shadow of Phil, the heart of it that invited himself in and never left. I wish I could remember what we were writing to each other on that day, how messy his handwriting was or if we ever accidentally touched hands. The future seems so far away when your parents banish you because you "wouldn't understand the grown-up stuff" and maybe there are still plenty of lessons I need to learn but there is something that appears obvious to me now.

Once upon a time, I convinced myself Link needed rescuing from the clutches of the illiterate, cruel humanity that would wait for him to cast one loving glance at someone special and promptly do it's worst. But I'm not only stubborn and uneasy, I'm also selfish. The words of urgency Link listened in on were ones I've pleaded to myself, but have never truly heard. In third grade, I admitted my feelings for another boy and despite endlessly caring about what other people thought about me, I always made sure to keep him in my line of vision. Vicariously I was keeping the beast called Society happy by steering Link away from an abnormal love, meanwhile holding myself back from the endearing human beside me.

But today is different than any other day I have seen because while untying my brain, along with childhood and learning, I have uncovered change. Out of nowhere, people are saying "long time, no see" to their genuine souls, however strange they may seem to the rest of us. Cares are thrown over their shoulders and into the undertow. The lighthearted energy sweeps through me and takes my troubles with it.

Then, all the overwhelming confusion stirred up by so many new faces at once seems to move me forward and whisper, "you know what to do."

Though my eyes are closed, I see Phil as clearly as I ever could. With the connection of our lips, we become a photograph just for us and by some miracle, the world continues to turn.

The end.