DANCE MACABRE
Cameron stood in her underwear in front of her closet, her usual blank look thrown slightly offset by the delicate pursing of her lips. Mechanically, she selected a little black dress and slipped into it with silent precision; then she appraised herself in the full-length mirror, her large brown eyes ticking over her features until she was thoroughly satisfied she would not stand out.
She did not announce to John that she was ready. Instead, she walked the short distance down the hall from her room to his, and unceremoniously opened the door. John, handsome and dashing in black, was sitting very close to Riley on his bed. He was holding her hand, and Cameron registered that Riley's free hand was placed comfortably on his knee.
As both faces turned to look at her she immediately registered her mistake, and after a lapse of awkward silence, Cameron flashed a dazzling smile to try and compensate for the interruption.
"Knock much?" Riley inquired.
John covered smoothly. "Ready to go?" He asked with a hint of annoyance, but before the Terminator could open her mouth, he had already collected Riley and slipped wordlessly past.
"Yes, I'm ready to go." She confirmed to no one in particular.
Neither had commented on her combat boots.
00101101
Cameron ducked out of the backseat of the car to find Morris anxiously awaiting her. "Damn," he said after a long, appreciative look. She stiffened as he let out a low-pitched, two-toned whistle of admiration.
Cameron stood motionless in front of him, looking at him in a way people rarely look at each other in a civilized society, her head tilted slightly to the side as she assessed him without either animosity or liking. She made no attempt to disguise the look, and eventually John cleared his throat.
She held her coat unabashedly open. "The salesperson said this dress was sexy. Is it not sexy?" She turned first to John, then rotated toward Riley, and finally faced Morris.
"Oh no, it's sexy." Morris grinned at her. "Very sexy." Cameron stared back at him, her brown eyes unwavering, and then slowly a smile spread across her face. She laughed and Morris joined in. "Damn!" he exclaimed again, rocking back on his heels.
".. uh, Morris - Riley, could you give us a minute?" John asked.
Morris, still reeling for Cameron's evolution from Biker Babe to Prom Date, bobbed his head up and down in stunned consent and stumbled backwards a few steps, unable to pry his eyes away from her. Riley hesitated, but followed reluctantly along behind him, pausing at the door of the gymnasium to watch them.
"You look fine, Cameron. Just try to act… normal."
"He said 'damn,'" she recited tonelessly. "Am I unfit?" John's eyebrows furrowed in momentary confusion at her question.
"Damn: to declare something to be bad, unfit, invalid, or illegal."
"He didn't mean it in that way. He meant it in a good way."
"So the dress is sexy?" she repeated.
"Yes, Cameron. The dress is sexy," he reassured her. He quickly dropped his eyes to the pavement as his cheeks blushed. "It's also cold," he said pointedly.
Cameron slowly closed her jacket. "Thank you for explaining."
00101101
Cameron stepped in from the cold, the last to enter. John instinctively moved to help Riley out of her coat and Morris quickly fumbled to follow suit. Cameron ignored his shy movements, silently examining the gymnasium, taking note of the two exits as well as the upper balcony.
"Be good," John said. In the next breath he was gone.
The movements of the humans surrounding her, as they danced to the music that blasted rhythmically from the stereos, was slightly distracting. As she scanned the crowd, she noticed that many of her female classmates wore high-heels. "Are my boots inappropriate?" she asked.
"No man, it's hot." Morris answered. "I like it."
Cameron simply nodded, her eyes locked on the retreating figure of John as he weaved through the bouncing bodies, determined not to lose sight of him. Morris shuffled his feet beside her, "Do you want to dance?"
"No," she stated plainly. She caught the fleeting look of hurt on Morris's face. "I'm thirsty."
Morris relaxed a fraction, letting out a breath. "Right. Good idea. Let's get drinks first." He motioned towards the refreshment stand, watching mutely as Cameron pivoted expertly on her heel and led the way.
"You and your brother are really close, aren't you?" He held a flimsy plastic cup of punch out in her direction, which she gingerly accepted, eyes still trailing John and Riley across the room as they swayed to the music; which had changed from fast to slow.
"Yes," she answered evenly. She glanced up at the balcony and then back to Morris. "I want to sit down," she declared.
"Sure, yeah." He agreed, nearly spilling his punch as he hurried to deposit the cup back on the table. He held his arm out, settling his hand on the small of her back, and climbed the stairs after her.
From this vantage point, she could see the entire dance floor. She let out a convincing sigh. "That's better. Thank you." He fidgeted beside her, and she consciously mirrored the females standing nearby, leaning casually over the railing.
"I thought you wanted to sit down," he said, gesturing towards the bleachers behind them.
"I'm comfortable now. Thank you," she repeated.
He edged the slightest bit closer to her, his fingers moving softly against the inside of her wrist as he slid his hand into hers. Cameron flashed Morris a smile, confirmed that her actions were sufficient, and then shifted her attention back to the dance floor below.
00101101
Something about the chaperone in the corner made John nervous - that - combined with the fact he couldn't hear himself think. Riley was oblivious to his discomfort for the first time since he'd met her, pressed close to him, her arms curled up around his neck.
As the adult advanced, John lifted his head, leveling his eyes on the approaching threat. He stood his ground, his mind racing to find an escape. Without looking for her, alert as ever, Cameron appeared at his side.
How ironic that any slight sense of safety he possessed resided in his nearness to her. He had seen the length in which she would go to keep him from harm. They had a history--and it was simple-- she was his protector.
"Hey! You--" The man addressed John. He reached out as if to grab John's arm and Cameron stepped forward to meet him, planting one hand on the mans shoulder. The man flinched away, causing her to tighten her grasp, squeezing so hard the man gasped in pain.
"Cameron!" John shouted.
Cameron's vice-like grip was almost unbearable. She dug her thumb into a point in the back of the mans neck. That was all it took, he sank helplessly to the floor under the pressure.
"Cameron!" John shouted again. "Stop it."
The chaperon nodded his silent surrender and Cameron lessened her grasp on him, taking a calculated step back to watch the man push himself to his feet. Embarrassed, Riley pushed angrily away from John, and stalked past an awe-struck Morris.
"Time to go," John sighed. He dashed forward to grab Cameron's hand and then whirled quickly around, pulling her behind him, through the crowd of curious students that had circled to watch the bizarre scene.
"Get back here, kid!" The chaperone shouted as he blundered after them.
"Is the prom over?" Cameron asked.
"It is for us," John answered.
"I had a nice time," Cameron recited as they passed Morris on their way out the door. She was sure to smile again. John had told her what to say when the prom was over.
00101101
John could feel her eyes burning into him as he drove. He sighed and flicked his eyes toward her, not surprised to find her twisted in her seat staring back at him. "What?"
"You haven't spoken since we left the prom. Did I do something wrong?"
"Yes." He quickly corrected himself, "No. Cameron. That guy was just going to tell me that I was dancing too close. To Riley."
"Why would he do that?"
"Because he was a chaperone. That's his job," he explained.
Something about him, perhaps the deliberate way he avoided looking her, perhaps even tried to ignore her presence; told her that he was uncomfortable and fighting to hide it from her.
The rest of the car ride home passed in silence.
"I'm sorry," she apologized blandly after they had pulled into the driveway and John had cut the ignition.
"Don't be sorry." He opened his car door, hopped out, and trudged around the front of the jeep; burying his hands deep in his pockets. "It's your job."
Sarah lowered her coffee mug to the table when she heard the front door open, and offered them both a small, perplexed frown when she caught sight of John's solemn face. "That bad, huh?"
"Cameron got a little over-protective," John said wryly.
"What happened?" She spoke softly, but there was a core of iron in her tone. "Riley?"
"No," John cut her off before she could finish her question. "A chaperone. She nearly broke his collar bone."
"Why's that?"
"He was approaching John in a threatening manner," Cameron replied matter-of-factly. John shrugged. "John was dancing too close," Cameron added.
"Are we going to have problems with this in the morning?" Sarah asked.
"I don't think so. He wasn't staff. Just some parent. I don't think anyone is going to tell him who we were. They were too impressed by the fact a 5'6 girl could bring him to his knees using her thumb. Cameron just become the most popular chick in school," he concluded dryly.
"I told you not to go," Sarah said dispassionately.
"It's fine, mom." He exchanged a secret look with Cameron and then absently ran his hand over his close-cropped hair. "I'm going to bed."
Sarah and Cameron watched as he padded down the hall.
"Did anything else happen at the prom, Cameron?"
"I had a nice time."
00101101
"When did you see her? Did she say anything to you?"
Cameron's voice sounded hollow and full of echoes as she tilted her head to the side, her eyes distant. "Three minutes and twenty-seven seconds ago. No, she did not say anything to me." They were standing together in the hallway beside John's locker, watching a continuous stream of their peers swarm past. A few stopped to congratulate Cameron, and as John had instructed, she merely smiled and laughed at their remarks.
John shook his head and slumped back against the locker, resigned to the fact that Riley was not going to talk to him anytime soon. "Some things just don't change," he admitted mildly to himself. He dropped his backpack on the floor and crossed his arms over his chest.
"What do you mean?" She moved familiarly to his side to lean against him, standing so that their bodies touched lightly. A comforting closeness that they had both become accustomed to.
"I mean, I can't have a normal life, because I'm John Connor." He shifted away from her. "Future leader of the world." He turned to slam his locker shut, causing Morris to jump back in surprise.
"Dude. You wish. You're too anti-social to ever be elected President."
"Heh. Hey Morris. Sorry about last night." John leaned down to collect his backpack off the ground again. "It's just that Cameron kind of has a record so…"
"No problem, man. It was totally worth it to see your sister kick that guys ass. How'd she do that anyway?"
".. uh… our mom made us take self defense classes when we were little."
Morris looked at the two of them, unconvinced.
"It only takes 8 pounds to break a human collarbone," Cameron added.
"What did you get arrested for?"
"Shoplifting," John blurted out spontaneously.
"Oh," Morris took the opportunity to slide his arm nonchalantly around Cameron's waist; who simply glanced at him, her expression benign, betraying nothing of her thoughts. A sudden rush of possessiveness washed over John.
When she lifted her eyes back to him, something in his posture had changed. His body was rigid, taut as wire, the anticipation strong in him, as if some primal force inside of him was fighting to break through. "Riley's pissed," Morris continued, unaware of the silent transformation that had taken place in front of him.
John nodded, his face stern. "Yeah, I know." He said a little sharply. He yanked on the strap of his backpack to tighten it around his shoulder.
Morris held up his free hand in mock surrender. "Not with you, bro. She's pissed at your sister. Been talking a whole bunch of shit all morning."
"What shit?" Cameron asked.
"After what I saw last night. I'm not repeating it. The messenger always gets killed."
Before Cameron could form the question he knew she was going to ask, John ghosted behind her and grabbed her shoulders as if to steer her away. "We're going to be late," he prompted. "Later." Cameron complied, allowing herself to be drawn away towards Chem.
00101101
He waited for her to sit before gratefully collapsing onto his own barstool. "You have to dump Morris."
"Yes," she replied instinctively. "Where?"
"No, I meant you have to break up with him." She continued to regard him with patient curiosity. He sighed and straightened his back a little, allowing his gaze to drift over her shoulder toward the old-fashioned chalk board as he searched for a way to word his request. "You can't have a boyfriend, Cameron."
"I can't," she echoed.
"You're different."
A measure of understanding came to her. "Yes, I'm different John." She said with quiet certainty.
"I know," he said with equal conviction. "That's why you can't date anybody. Promise?"
She could see from his face that he was serious, that he expected her to respond, and that he was watching her closely enough to discern the truth were she to attempt to dissemble in any way. "Promise."
He smiled and retrieved his notebook, tossing it out on the counter. Cameron surveyed the room of students and, after a few small adjustments, was leaning naturally back against the counter, propped up by her elbows.
"John. In the hallway. Should he not have touched me without my permission?" She ventured.
John glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, pretending that he hadn't her. He had little doubt about the nature of her question. He licked his lips to moisten them, his mouth having gone unaccountably dry. She scanned the class with her sharp eyes, gaze stopping to rest upon Riley.
"John."
"Hmm?" He forced himself to look at her then, prepared to answer her question truthfully. I was jealous, Cameron. I couldn't stand him touching you. He was distracted from the memories of his earlier murderous fantasy by the sound of her voice.
"You're different too," she opined thoughtfully. "You shouldn't date either."
"I don't think you have to worry about that anymore."
THE END