dancergirl. Carol Tanzman M.

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      Chapter 6

       Charlie calls ten minutes after the invite goes out on the net. Sonya’s having an end-of-summer party and he wants to make sure I’ll be there.

       “It’ll be on the roof,” he tells me. “The footage will be awesome!”

       City roofs are amazing. You can watch a sunset, secretly smoke or just plain hide out. When parents are on the warpath, they never think to check the roof.

       Sonya’s is better than most. The perfect party place. Unlike my building, with its two-foot lip, her roof has a five-foot wall surrounding the edge. No matter how wasted someone gets, they’d have to try really hard to fall off.

       The day of the party, Clarissa decides to play stylist. She brings over a bunch of clothes from her closet. We go with a pretty V-neck and short skirt. Makeup and hair take another hour but in the end, I’m happy with the look.

       By the time we get to Sonya’s, the party is in full swing. Word obviously got out on some site or other because I don’t even recognize half the people. They’re packed together like at the Thanksgiving parade when the Snoopy balloon floats by. Cell phones and cameras snap as people dance and clown—a last hurrah. Clarissa and I elbow our way through the crowd, searching for Charlie. When we finally meet up, he gives me the once-over.

       “Blue’s an excellent choice for the camera,” he pronounces.

       “Hi to you, too,” Clarissa says. “And thanks. I picked out the shirt.”

       I look from one to the other. I might as well be uncooked tofu for all they care. A little annoyed, I spot the cooler, grab a beer. Charlie follows. He points to an empty spot near the ledge.

       “I like the lighting over there. Very end-of-the-world sci-fi.”

       Suddenly, I’m extremely thirsty. I slug some beer. “What do you want me to do exactly?”

       “Just dance, be natural. And make sure not to look at me.”

       Before I can move, Luke Sorezzi strolls over. He’s dressed all in black and his hair has that “I don’t give a crap so I finger-comb” look.

       “Yo, Ruffino. Saw the video on Zube. You looked good.”

       He hands me a joint and I toke deeply. Even if I wasn’t worried about the video, there’s something about Luke that brings out the nerves in me.

       “Yeah, well, I didn’t know anyone was taping me,” I mumble.

       “Riiiighht.” Luke smirks.

       “I’m serious.”

       “Then it’s just natural talent. The best kind.”

       Over in the corner, Charlie’s giving me the “hurry up” sign. I hand Luke the joint. “Thanks for the hit. Umm, nice talking to you.”

       “Hold on. The school’s best dancer deserves a little extra.”

       Luke tokes deeply and pulls my head toward his. As my mouth opens in surprise, he blows smoke into me. I blink, not sure whether it’s the weed or the fact that his lips are so casually pressed into mine. Then he strolls away like he’s done that every day for a month instead of the truth—before the Zube video, he never even noticed we breathe the same sooty Brooklyn air.

       “Alicia!” Charlie has come to get me. “I’ve been waiting.”

       A final gulp of beer before we move to the chosen spot.

       “Hold on, Charlie. You want me to dance by myself? Who does that?”

       “You do. Well, not you, but the girl in my video. She’s a free spirit—think Audrey Tautou in Amelie.”

       “Never saw it.”

       Charlie waves it off. “Doesn’t matter. Don’t think you. It’s just…a dancer girl. And remember, don’t look at me.”

       He backs off so you can’t even tell what—or who—he’s shooting. Not that anyone would notice. There’s a surge over by the cooler. Someone, I take it, has managed to scam more beer and the crowd is ecstatic.

       Clarissa gives me an encouraging smile. I take a breath, about to start, when a window curtain shifts in the tall building across the alley. At least I think it does.

       “Ready when you are,” Charlie announces.

       Chills crawl down my spine. “I feel like I’m in a Macy’s window display right here. Can’t we move?”

       “Fine!”

       Charlie picks a different spot, still on the far end of the roof, but not so close to the alley. Just as I start, he yells, “Wait up.”

       He motions Josh over, placing him and Clarissa so there’s a barrier between me and the party. That’s so no one can stumble into the shot.

       I begin again. Being videotaped is like being onstage. Nerve-racking at first but then the movement, and adrenaline, of performance take over and something magical happens.

       Two songs later, Josh approaches. “Can I join you? Or does that mess with your concentration?”

       Out of the corner of my eye, I see Charlie give me the thumbs-up. “Guess not.”

       Josh’s face lights up. Did he do this on his own—or СКАЧАТЬ