I watched curiously from my chair as he placed his cell phone into what looked like a small cassette player. Within a few seconds my room was filled with a steady, methodic beat. I smiled. I hated to break it to Gunner, but we had covered music the day before.
He stood in the empty space in the middle of the room and began jerking spastically with his arms and legs like he was having a seizure. For a moment I almost panicked and considered reaching for the call button on the side of my bed. Gunner’s spastic motions stopped and he began twirling slowly with his arms outstretched. Giggling slightly, I realized how stupid I was because he was just dancing, although it wasn’t like anything I had ever seen on television.
“Do I hear you laughing at my moves?” Gunner asked, gasping slightly as a fine sheen of sweat dotted his forehead. I shook my head without answering. I had no idea how to break it to him that whatever I had just witnessed didn’t look like dancing.
I clamped my hand over my mouth to stifle a chuckle, but it was too late. Laughter escaped between my fingers and filled the room. “I don’t think that was dancing,” I spit out between giggles.
“I’m hurt,” he gasped, clutching his chest. “I’ve got mad skills, girl.”
“You definitely looked mad.”
“Wow. Big talk. Let’s see you do better.”
I shook my head. “I can’t,” I answered. I may have laughed at him, but truthfully, I had no earthly idea how to dance.
“Sure you can. That’s the beauty of dancing. Anyone can do it. Some bad, some good, but it doesn’t matter,” he teased, holding out a hand. “It’s all about letting the music talk to your body.”
I dug my heels into the floor. “Gunner, I can’t,” I whispered.
He stepped toward me, closing the distance between us. “You can do this, Mia. I know it.”
“What do you mean? How do you know?”
“The way you responded yesterday. I know a fellow music lover when I’m around one. It talks to your soul. Now it’s time to let it talk to your body,” he said, pulling me to my feet. “And at least you know I won’t laugh at you,” he said, pointing to his dark glasses.
“I’m sorry I laughed at you,” I said as a new song swelled through my room.
“I’m not. You have the prettiest laugh I’ve ever heard. Even if it was at my expense. Now, stop stalling.”
He released my hand a
nd stepped back, leaving me in the middle of the room. For a moment I felt vulnerable, but slowly my body began to respond to the subtle beat of the music. My feet stepped back and forth and my arms swung from side to side as my body swayed along. I know it was silly, but I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see Gunner looking like he was watching me. With my eyes closed I felt free as the music took over my body.
I danced through one song and then another and another one after that. Eventually, I opened my eyes and Gunner joined me. We held hands, dancing together with abandon—dancing until we had nothing left to give.
22
“DO KIDS our age really act like that?” I asked Jacob, who was watching the television show I’d turned on.
We were both lying on my bed while Mom sat on one of the chairs crocheting. I had been in the hospital officially three weeks. My new life was slowly beginning to shape into a routine. I woke up, had my daily session with Dr. Marshall, and then spent the rest of the morning with Mom. After she and I ate lunch, Gunner would usually find me and he and I would spend the rest of the day together while Mom ran errands and got out of the hospital for a little while. Evenings were spent with my family as we continued trying to get to know one another.
Jacob laughed. “Hell no. Sorry, Mom,” he added when she looked up sternly from her crocheting. “School is boring compared to all the drama on this show. Plus, none of the chicks at school are anywhere near as hot. Everyone on this show is a freaking model.”
Mom chastised him again, but I was too busy gnawing on my lip to respond. A part of me was relieved that school wouldn’t be as confusing as it appeared on the show. Jacob’s declaration still didn’t help the anxiety I felt about starting school. Mom had announced earlier after my daily session with Dr. Marshall that she had stopped at the school and finished my enrollment. I spent two days taking proficiency tests that would determine exactly what I knew. I got the impression that everyone was skeptical about what kind of education I could have received while locked in a basement for ten years. It made sense, I guess. As far as they were concerned, Judy was a monster who treated me like a prisoner. They had no way of knowing what an emphasis she put on education. The proficiency tests Mom had me take for school were all easy in comparison. If I knew they would lead to me being thrown into school so soon, I would have dragged my feet in taking them or flunked them on purpose.
Now it appeared I was set to start as soon as I got settled at home. Mom’s news created butterflies the size of dragons in my stomach.
I wanted to ask Jacob more questions but didn’t want them to know I was worried. They both already hovered over me enough. It was as if they were afraid I was going to break at any moment. I didn’t want to give them yet another thing to worry about with me. Over the last few weeks, it had become obvious Dad was having issues being around me. Nobody would say it, but each meal seemed more strained than the one before.
Finally, three nights ago, he gave up the charade and hadn’t shown up since. Mom and Jacob seemed to have a harder time accepting it than me. I understood, probably better than they did. I made Dad uncomfortable. Mom and Jacob continued to make up excuses for him. When Jacob arrived alone, carrying yet another pizza for our dinner, they both tried hard to reassure me that Dad was stuck at work, but I had read the annoyance in Jacob’s eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but Mom shook her head before flashing a smile my way. I could have told them it didn’t matter. I might be having issues adjusting to life on the outside, but I wasn’t dumb. They didn’t have to hide the truth from me.
“I wouldn’t be nervous, sis. School’s a piece of cake,” Jacob said during a commercial break.
“Oh, I’m not,” I lied.
“Good. You’ll have no problem fitting in. All my friends can’t wait to meet you. Plus, even your old friend, Amber, found me during lunch today to ask about you.”
My head snapped up so abruptly at his words that it startled him. Amber? Had I heard him right? Amber wasn’t my friend. She was Mia’s friend. According to Dr. Marshall, she was a figment of my imagination. “Amber?” I asked, gripping the edge of the bed.