Heart Condition

Chapter Twenty-One: Little Bird

We couldn’t sleep.

            Sasha and I lay in my bed, staring enormity in the face. We’d gone back inside, and danced together long enough so that everyone was staring at us. They were all so happy, with the exception of the lacrosse team. That was the only casualty.

            While we’d stood inside the warehouse, Sasha held me against his chest, protecting me from uncertain onlookers. I closed my eyes, focusing on anything but the people who treated us like a sideshow at a circus. The 1975 were playing on the sound system, and I wanted to dance.

            “Come on.” I said, grabbing his hand “Dance with me.”

            We walked out, and Sasha had me as close to him as he could. He smiled, “I don’t want you to get lost.”

            “I won’t.” I promised. He let go of my hand, turning me out and back in again, spinning me in circles.

            Resting my head on his shoulder, I glanced around. Noah’s eyes found mine, and I held on to Sasha a little tighter.

            I whispered, “Are the guys on the team still mad at you?”

            He shrugged, “I really don’t care if they are or not. I’m not on the team anymore, and there isn’t anything anyone can really do about it.”

            “But you were fifth.” I recalled, the vision of a newspaper on the kitchen table watching me, “Fifth, out of thousands.”

            He smiled, “So?” He sent me out again, and when he pulled me back in, I could hear the song ending.

            I asked, “Do you think you’ll play next year?”

            “I don’t know.” He admitted, and we kept up as the songs began to change.

            Dancing was something I always admired as a kid. I wasn’t great at it, but I loved the idea of feeling the music in my veins and giving it the power to move me. That’s how it felt when I danced now, in front of all the people who felt like they had something to say about Sasha and me. I didn’t care about what they wanted, or what they felt entitled to, or what they expected of me, or Sasha. We were here, and we were actually happy.

            Eventually, though, the people who had an opinion would undoubtedly give it. And that person would, of course, be Noah.

            He’d been brooding in the corner with Cory and James, a midfielder and the goalie, I would learn later. Noah watched us, and Sasha’s eyes wandered from mine long enough for me to notice.

            “What is it?” I asked softly, and Sasha took my hand.

            “Let’s go.” He said, walking us off the dance floor and out toward the doors. Noah caught on, cutting us off as we reached an exit. Ally was nowhere to be seen, and I wondered if I should go tell her goodbye.

            Slowly, I saw an unexpected face appear from the crowd; Jeremiah Quinton walked toward us, reaching for a handshake from his friend.

            “Hey, man.” He slapped Sasha on the back, looking over at me and smiling “Abbie, you keeping this kid in line?”

            I shrugged, “Trying to. How are you, Miah?”

            He hugged me carefully, “I’m good, I’m good.”

            Sasha looked at me curiously, “You know Miah?”