DEAD WINTER: A CRYPTIC Anthology

Scream and Cheer • Claudia Witter

Niko Grimm was the embodiment of the Lady Gaga song Applause. He got high off screams and cheers—only if they were for him, of course. Not for anyone else. Never for anyone else. As he zipped up his tracksuit jacket to hide the figure skater costume underneath, twenty-four-year-old Niko felt nerves dance through his body, which would soon be dancing for an enormous crowd.

Humming nonsense to himself, he danced down the corridor, his movements as graceful as they were seductive. His chin tilted toward the artificial lights that hung on the ceiling. A hand dragged up his chest. Fingers ran through his dark violet hair, brushed across his hip as he spun into a serpentine step sequence. The silver piercings that lined his ears winked as they caught the light, and his tongue flicked out to touch the one on his bottom lip.

Soon, he would have them. The cheers. The screams. The cheers always came first. Always first. Alwaysalwaysalways.

"Niko, the show will start soon. Are you ready?"

"I can barely contain my excitement, Koda," Niko replied without stopping his dance. He knew who stood behind him just from the voice and the words. Koda Kyoun was a soft-spoken young man that tended to speak more polished and pretty than most.

Niko paused and turned to face him. Koda was Korean, and good God, did he give Niko butterflies in the belly. Looking shyly at the floor, he stood in his figure skater outfit—he too would partake in the New Year's performance—his black hair framing his face like crow feathers, his arms hanging at his sides. As the performance was about the four seasons, he was clothed in a delicate orange-and-red costume embroidered with gold leaves.

Koda's older sister, Kayla, came down the corridor toward them. She too was in costume and, like her brother, she made Niko's heart beat a little faster than it should. She was spring, and the simpleness of her glittery green dress and pantyhose brought out the perfection of her round face and angular eyes. Her long black hair was secured in a ponytail that fell past her shoulders. At twenty-six, she was three years older than her brother.

"Let's go, Koda," said Kayla, jerking her head toward the door at the end of the corridor. She put a hand on her brother's arm. "Niko can find his way to the rink, I'm sure. He can't, looks like the year is out a season." Clicking her tongue, Kayla shot Niko her trademark "Killing Look," which only made the applause-obsessed man all the more eager for the events that would soon take place.

Koda blinked up at Kayla, his cheeks flushed. "Oh . . . all right," he murmured. Stealing one last shy glance at Niko, he allowed his big sister to lead him off down the corridor.

Niko watched them, index finger pressed against his chin and thumb tucked underneath it, as if his head needed propping. He couldn't stop himself from smirking. Soon, he thought. Soon I'll give everyone a holiday to remember.

The rink was cold. Niko had removed his tracksuit, and in his figure skater costume, he knew he looked more beautiful than the hundreds of people around him. Everything was he wore was white—his iceskates, his trousers, his tailcoat, the veil that covered the right half of his face. He was meant to be winter, and also half-bride, half-groom; his own way of poking fun at his androgynous Slavic features.

He looked toward the Kyoun siblings, who stood to his left, then at Marlo Tanner, who stood to his right. The nineteen-year-old was summer, clad in a dress made to look likes dark blue waves, and her fiery corkscrew curls tumbled down her back. She was grinning hugely and swinging her arms back and forth, as if she couldn't wait to start moving.

The stadium was an enormous domed space, with blazing lights aimed at the rink. A great screen showed the four performers, and there were rows and rows of long, curving benches in which the crowd sat. It was only one minute until midnight. Once it was midnight, the performance would begin, as well as the new year.