Daughter of Darkness (Kindred 1)

They all roared again. More young men broke off their conversations nearby and hovered behind the small group that had greeted us. I could see the envious, even angry faces of the girls to whom they had been speaking.

“So, really, where are you guys from? I haven’t seen you before. Anybody see them before?” another boy asked.

“I have,” Buddy said, looking directly at me. “Every night in my dreams.”

They all laughed.

“That’s all he ever does is dream,” the bigger young man said. “So, where are you from?”

I looked to Ava.

“Well,” she said, “we kiss, but we don’t tell.”

There were more roars. I sipped my drink. Buddy smiled at me and then asked if I wanted to dance. I looked at Ava. She gave me a short yes smile, and I nodded. When we got onto the dance floor, the music was so much louder it was nearly impossible to talk. I looked back and saw how Ava was holding court, none of the boys who had been around us leaving. I was torn between being there to hear her banter and learn and remaining here on the dance floor with Buddy, who seemed unable to take his eyes off me. Actually, I was having trouble taking my eyes off him as well. It also felt good to be out there, to dance in a crowd with other girls and young men who at times seemed to be in a frenzy.

What was it they were all celebrating with the same energy and abandon they would have on New Year’s Eve? Was it just the weekend, their freedom, or their youth? Were they celebrating or fleeing from sanity, from rules and supervision? What was it exactly that everyone was trying to prove to everyone else about himself or herself?

As I looked around, I thought many were saying, Look at me. Don’t you want to be with me more than anyone else? Here and there, I saw some shyer girls and even some shyer boys, but on the whole, everyone looked ready to cast off every restriction, every warning, every bit of advice on how to live moderately, sensibly. The room reeked of sex, bodies rubbing against bodies, lips close to lips, and hands sliding over rears and thighs. Every gyration, turn, and twist looked like a move in some mating dance.

“You’re a great dancer!” Buddy shouted. He drew closer. “You make me look good.”

“Thank you.”

“Where are you two from, really?”

“Around,” I said, and he laughed.

“What’s your name? Will you at least tell me that?”

“Diane.”

I saw Ava break away from the crowd with the young man on her right. The others watched them head to the dance floor, each one regretting he hadn’t asked first,

I imagine. She threw me a smile and went at it. The young man she was with seemed immediately overwhelmed. He waved back at his friends lingering at the bar to indicate that he was drowning. There was more laughter, and the night began.

We danced most of the time. Other boys asked us both, but I favored Buddy and was able to dance with him more than with anyone else. He never stopped asking me questions about myself. I hated not being truthful with him. Was it simply my inexperience, or was he really as honest and sweet as he appeared? My instincts told me yes, but I was afraid they made me too vulnerable. I had to keep my wits about me and not make a mistake and tell him more than Ava would want me to tell him.

She and I were constantly offered something stronger to drink and even something to take or smoke, but Ava refused.

“We don’t need anything to get high,” she told them. “We’re high on life.”

No matter how hard any of them tried to learn more about us, we avoided having to answer any questions. In between dances, Buddy asked me to step out with him on a small patio. I saw that he wasn’t drinking as much as his friends and asked him about it.

“I hate having hangovers, and most of those guys need to drink before they have any courage when it comes to women.”

“But not you?”

“I don’t have that much courage with or without a drink,” he said. “I have the nerve to say something to you, however. If I don’t, I’ll regret it all night.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re absolutely the most beautiful girl I’ve seen here, or anywhere, for that matter.”

“How do I know you don’t tell that to all the girls you meet?”

“You don’t. Tell you what,” he said. “Let me take you out next weekend and see if I say it again.”

I laughed. Maybe I wanted to see it, but what I saw in his face was the sincerity and honesty of a young boy, someone who either hadn’t learned how to deceive or couldn’t live and be comfortable with deception. He was close to me, his lips tempting mine.