I leaned in, kissed her cheek, and wished her a goodnight.
She dropped my hand, touched my mother’s head, and then went into the kitchen in search of her usual snack of cookies and milk before bed. “A treat to sweeten the dreams,” she would say.
Not wanting to expand on her comments, I snagged a dinner roll from the table and changed the subject. “I’m spending the weekend with Violet.”
My mother turned away from me, picking up her wine. “Have you given much thought to our conversation?”
The bread was soft, still warm, and smelled of butter. Ripping a small piece, I let the taste of it dissolve. “I’m thinking about going back to dance—full time.”
The crystal came close to her lips but stilled. “You are?” She turned to face me.
My father set his fork down and turned to me. My grandmother peeked her head out of the kitchen and into the dining room. Eunice, right behind my grandmother, raised her brows, her eyes round and curious.
“I am.”
“What about—”
“I’m still considering the rest.”
Her lips pinched and her nose turned up, as if she had smelled something sour. “You don’t have forever. This is your last chance. Your last year. If you think of nothing else this weekend, think hard on that.” She sighed, a hard, tired sound. “Your father and I are going on a trip this weekend. We will see you on Monday.”
I waved the roll at my grandmother and Eunice. When I turned back to my mother, I nodded once.
She nodded in return. “If you are going to eat the roll, Scarlett, eat it. Food is not a toy. And please, whatever you do, do not eat with your mouth open—it’s impolite and it will offend the Castellanos family. You are a famous ballerina. You are your grandmother’s granddaughter.” She finished this declaration with “act like it”in Slovenian.
I smiled with a big chunk of bread stuck to the side of my mouth, saluted her, and then left.
* * *
Violet whistled. “That skirt is highly inappropriate. And so is that navel-bearing sweater. What has brought about this sudden change in my friend? Could it be Brando Fausti? Could it be Ace Mcafee? Is it thesinfulchocolate cake? Or is it thescrumptiouscinnamon bun? I should probably change Brando’s MO to something Italian. Like gelato. Or gelato withsinfulchocolate cake.”
I looked down at my sweater. I looked even further down at my skirt—it landed way above my knees. “I just want to have some fun.”
She fell to her knees and thrust her hands toward the sky. “Thank you! Thank you!”
I laughed and helped her up. “Let’s get a drink.”
She thrust a hand to her heart. “I thought I’d never hear those words from Scarlett Poésy. Some man has ticked you off and is bringing out the wild child in you. One of them made you take the proverbial chill pill.Sandyhas chilled!” She made her voice sound goofy. “Which one was it? The Gin Blossom ticket-giver? Or—” she dropped to sotto voice “—the ‘get in my car now’ hottie?”
“Neither,” I wrapped my arm around hers.
“Liar.” She hit me with her hip. “But at this point, I don’t give a damn who it was! I just like that a wing has been set free from the tragic cage.”
We both howled at the same time, something we used to do before my life had turned dark.
I was pleasantly surprised to see that Friday’s party had tripled in size—it seemed most of the school and beyond were not as daring as I was, seeing as I had been to a party on a Wednesday too.
Violet directed me through clusters of people laughing or being obnoxious. A small group of people danced to Aerosmith. A few were making out to Aerosmith too. A guy standing against Jiggly Seller’s car whistled as we approached. Violet and I tucked our heads together, laughing.
It was no surprise that Jiggly Seller had the largest quantity of alcohol in the closest radius. He had a hat that read “Illegal Peddler” atop his head and a shirt that read “From The Prohibition” covering his scrawny chest.
“What’ll it be?” He stuck his head out of the rust-colored Ford Taurus, looking around like he was being watched before his attention settled on me. He looked me over from head to toe and then whistled. “Never mind. I know I haven’t seen you here before so this one—” he glanced at Violet “—these twoare on me.” He sat back in his car and, a moment later, handed us two red cups filled with foaming beer.
We toasted, smiling and laughing our way to a spot by the fire. I took a wooden crate and she took the one next to me. I guzzled my beer—actually liking the taste of it—while Violet watched with a knowing smile on her face.
It didn’t seem long before pleasant warmth seemed to radiate through my body. I could have easily float, float, floated up to the sky filled with bright white stars. A few guys had taken seats around us, offering us more drinks, and a few more asked us to dance.
I was having much too good of a time to dance, but I did knock back a tall can of beer in record setting time. I had never been drunk before, but I was finding thatitwas all that it was cracked up to be.
