Author's Notes: Hey all! This chapter is really Amy heavy in the beginning (sorry, sigh), but features pretty much everyone later on. It's spastic, but my life has been spastic recently, so it's not a big surprise! XD Anyway, please enjoy.
Woes and Shows
They were on their way to a group dinner, and Amy was bringing up the rear, staring dreamily into the sky. The sun was setting, throwing shadows on the brick buildings they passed, filling the sky with dripping oranges that pooled into reds near the horizon.
Tai, as always, was at the head of the pack, talking over Matt, likely engaged in a friendly disagreement. Sora followed, shaking her head as Tai's volume increased. Joe was leaning towards Mimi, and her high, chirping tones floated over the other voices. Hana and Izzy moved slowly behind them, heads bent together, staring into the pages of a book held open between them. Izzy's nasal drone, slowly gaining pitch with what might have been frustration, was pleasant, at least to Amy.
The mess of words flowed over her, and Amy heard it all, but processed nothing. The sounds of the voices were what mattered in the midst of her waking dream. Her ears heard music in the rise and fall of vocal registers, in the blending of beloved tones into a secret harmony.
A foreign pitch knocked Amy out of her haze, and she blinked rapidly as her eyes focused on a newcomer. It was a girl with a deep, husky voice belying her small stature. Amy's first impression was the shock of her neon green hair. It reminded her of the color used to depict acid in cartoons and movies, although every acid she had worked with in real life was clear.
Upon closer inspection, she realized that the green hair was a fake insert, attached to the girl's thick, ropey braids. These were piled intricately on top of her head. "Hana," the girl cried, grasping her bony shoulder, "am I finally meeting your boyfriend? You look so cuuuute together!"
Amy staggered, and her foot turned beneath her. She focused her watering eyes on Hana and Izzy. He twitched away from her, pulling his book from her hands.
"Rochelle-" Hana started, but the girl spoke over top of her.
"Dating a ballerina... Smart. We're probably the only hope you have of finding someone shorter than you." Rochelle's smile dimpled her round face, and her teeth were white and gleaming against her dark skin.
In an instant, Amy went from flustered to cold. Rochelle was right; Izzy had about three inches on Hana, which was quite the feat, given his small stature. She always knew that she was bigger than Izzy, and that this wasn't ideal. But, for the first time, it occurred to Amy that she must really look like a giant next to him, and that this was a possible source of embarrassment for Izzy.
Does that bother him? Is it weird? Would he rather date someone smaller than him? Amy tried to dismiss these thoughts as superficial and unimportant, but they lingered, like an echo that faded, but could still be vaguely heard.
The truth was that they did look cute together, and Amy couldn't recall anyone saying anything like that about herself and Izzy.
"Rochelle!" Hana cried, holding her hands out. "We're not dating."
"No?" she said skeptically, falling into stride with the two of them. Her smile went absolutely wicked, and Amy would have admired it in different circumstances.
"Definitely not." Izzy delivered the denial tartly enough that Hana flicked his ear. He rubbed at it and sighed.
"Oh, weird, coz... I could have sworn you said you were dating a redhead."
"I said I dated a redhead," Hana returned impatiently. Rochelle shrugged, then shifted the conversation to dancing. Izzy watched them for a moment, until he judged it safe to withdrawal and give his attention to his book.
Heat blazed over Amy's face when she realized that no one had addressed her, even to point out that she was the person Izzy was dating, or to bestow a commiserating glance. Her feet stopped moving, partly because of shock, and partly because the turned ankle was still smarting. The group walked on, and Amy watched, standing stupidly in the middle of the sidewalk, until they moved beyond a building and passed from view.
Her appetite vanished, her foot stinging, and her feelings hurt, Amy turned around and moved towards the campus mall, where she sat beneath a tree and tried to sort herself out. She gave the group enough time to reach the cafeteria before texting Tai, who might have freaked out otherwise when he realized that she was gone.
Not hungry. Also, twisted my ankle a little (it's fine, though). Heading back.
She stared at the message and frowned, knowing that it sounded fishy. But she didn't have the concentration to fix it, so she hit send, then put the phone in her purse.
Sighing, she rested her back against a tree and closed her eyes. Her mind began to wander again, but this trip was not so pleasant as the last.
Another Day
"Amy! What are you doing, eating dinner all by yourself?"
A tray slid onto the table, and the thud of plastic on laminate had Amy twitching. She was in the cafeteria, trying to find some space in a large room filled with chattering youths. There wasn't a spare table to be found, so, no matter how far she shoved her nose into the Iliad, she still couldn't escape the crowd.
She tried not to sigh when she registered Hana's face. Amy wasn't interested in company of any sort at the moment, especially not that of strangers, and there was someone new standing beside the dancer. He was tall, red-headed, and blue-eyed, and Amy forced a smile when their glances met.
"I hope you don't mind our joining you," he said quietly. "There aren't any available spaces, and Hana insisted that you would be happy to share."
Amy memorized her page number, then lowered the book, focusing on the boy. He was vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place him. Something about his mild, too-innocent tone caught her interest.
"After all of those French lessons, I think I've earned it," Hana returned, taking a seat.
The boy ignored her. He reached out to Amy, and she shook his hand. "My name is Ryo Hiraki. I'm an old friend of Hana's."
"Amy Donahue. Nice to meet you." She didn't know how to explain her relationship with Hana, so she didn't comment. Amy knew from Hana that Ryo was a psychology major two years their senior, and that he was well-traveled. She was considering telling him that Hana spoke well of him when Hana began speaking.
"Where are the others?" she asked. Ryo took the metal folding seat beside her, then pulled it closer to the table. The high, grating sound that followed had him grimacing.
Amy shrugged. "I don't know. Band practice, soccer practice, fashion show stuff… I told Joe I'd bring him back something." She didn't mention Izzy, whose office hours had magically extended an extra hour and a half. There was no reason to upset herself, not if she could help it.
Ryo was shifting through a pile of vegetables with a plastic fork. He didn't look enthusiastic about the meal, and Amy couldn't blame him. Personally, she was looking forward to next year, when she could spend half as much money to feed herself with food that tasted better… Provided she could talk Matt into cooking with her, or at least taking turns.
He finally took a bite, frowned, then sampled a different vegetable, and then another. "Are these all boiled in the same pot?" he demanded of Hana. "They taste identical. Vaguely vegetable-ish pulp, essentially."
Hana's fork dug into her salad with sudden violence. "My school doesn't have a cafeteria like a four star restaurant. Deal."
Amy sensed a conflict brewing, and she hastened to intervene. "You don't go to this school, Ryo?"
Ryo laughed, but the tightening of the muscles around his mouth suggested displeasure. "Ah, no. I'm visiting some friends."
Hana offered the name of his school, a prestigious private institution. Amy had applied there, but the admissions office didn't offer nearly enough financial aid. She was paying her own way, so she had to be frugal, even with her loans, financial aid, grants, and scholarships.
"Well, our cafeteria is pretty awful," she said with forced cheer. "What can you do? But hey, I've lost some weight, so at least there's that!"
Ryo didn't comment, which was charitable, given the awkwardness of her outburst. Try as she might, Amy couldn't get a read on him. He seemed aloof, maybe a bit pretentious, but not exactly rude. And his eyes were picking up on every minute motion around them, especially with regards to Hana. Amy might have missed that cue before she met Izzy, but now it caught her attention.
He's hyper aware of his surroundings, and probably smart, too. But, at the same time, if he knows when he's bugging Hana, why does he do it? Amy was aware that people had different ways of interacting; after all, Matt and Tai affectionately referred to one another as "asshole." She and TK liked to swap sharp-tongued witticisms, as well, but always with an undercurrent of delighted good humor that seemed absent between Ryo and Hana. But no two people were alike, so she shrugged it off.
Amy was on the verge of talking at random, just to end the silence around the table, when a petite girl stepped up to Hana. They began to discuss the choreography in one of their dance classes, and, like magic, Hana's often spastic attentions were focused on her with incredible intensity. When the girl moved towards another table, lined with more petite girls, Hana followed her, apparently heedless of the people and the food she was leaving behind. Stunned, Amy turned in her chair, to better observe Hana's relocation. She was left in the company of a stranger, with no apology or backwards glance.
Her expression shifted towards reproach, and Ryo sighed and shook his head. "She doesn't mean to be rude. Hana can't resist anything related to her art. In her mind, we've ceased to exist, and won't be restored to life again until their conversation topic shifts from ballet." Amy didn't find this excuse sufficient, and Ryo smiled, as if to allow her unspoken point. "I'm only trying to explain that she's not intentionally shunning you."
A faint mm was the strongest approbation Amy could manage. It didn't bother her that Hana preferred the company of someone else. The problem was that Hana had left her alone with someone she didn't know. Something in Amy always urged her to be exceptionally gracious to people in one-on-one conversations, at least if they weren't her particular friends. Their enjoyment seemed her responsibility, as if she were their hostess, even in neutral territory like the cafeteria. The weight of entertaining Ryo pushed down on her, and her irritation was rising along with her anxiety.
"Um- so-" the words fell out in a halting, awkward fashion, until she fell into stride. "Hana tells me that you're a psych major."
The movement was subtle, but Amy thought she detected a shift in Ryo's body language. His shoulders squared, but simultaneously relaxed, creating an authoritative mixture of self-assurance and ease. "I'm surprised you'd remember something like that. Hana is friendly, and often forgets that the people around her aren't interested in the minutiae of the lives of her friends."
Amy felt an eyebrow rising, much against her wishes. Hana had called Ryo her best friend in past conversations, but he seemed oddly at ease with offering up her foibles. And, was it her imagination, or was Ryo implying that he had heard more than he wanted to about her through Hana?
"You're so… clinical," she observed, before she could think better of it.
Color swept over her skin at her slip, but Ryo only smiled, or at least did something like it. His thin lips twisted upwards at the corners, yes, but no additional animation touched his expression. "And you have something you need to say. Generally, my remaining aloof- and, as you say, clinical- aids in drawing out words that need to be said."
Amy leaned back in her chair, away from Ryo. "I- So- So you sit around and try to lull people into talking to you about their problems?" Her thoughts immediately turned to TK, and his unfortunate habit of creating mischief for the sole purpose of eliciting reactions. Even with years of exposure to this kind of perverse behavior, she was having trouble absorbing Ryo's hobby.
A faint, red eyebrow rose, crinkling his forehead. This time, he smiled in truth. "Are you familiar with the term 'ennui'?"
Amy snorted. This lack of confidence in the scope of her language abilities had her miffed. "Is Oscar Wilde a witty bastard?"
He blinked, then stared, then laughed, a sound like wind rustling boughs. The vocalization was almost humorless, and, if not for the clear amusement on his face, Amy would have thought he was mocking her. "Oh, you're more fun than I gave you credit for!"
Amy lifted a hand to her forehead, trying and failing to get her bearings in this crazy conversation. Her perception of Ryo revolved faster than hubcaps on a sport car, and the effort to keep up was dizzying. "I- oh? Isn't this our first conversation?"
Ryo shrugged. "Reading people is my business. Or, at least, it will be." And, perhaps to give credit to his assertion, he turned his attention to his food, giving her time to sort her thoughts and calm down.
A few silent minutes passed, and then Ryo began to speak. "Your surname is very Irish."
"Yours is very Japanese," she returned. His intent was a mystery to her, so she had no idea how to give an actual reply.
"Fair enough. I just wondered if you've been to Ireland?" She admitted that she had never left the states, and some trace of mixed sadness and desire must have passed her face, because he began to speak of his visits to Ireland.
Although she was initially reluctant, Amy found herself hanging on every word, hungry for his detailed descriptions of a place she wanted to see. There was an ease to his manner and voice that seemed to say, Talk, or don't talk. And, despite her own warnings, Amy began to trust him by degrees. This method was so different from Tai's, who demanded information, and Matt's, who tried to pull it out of her slowly, piece by painful piece. She felt like a sparrow who flew away from running children, and those who whispered entreaties, and landed beside a figure lying still upon the grass.
There was a lull in the conversation, and Amy's eyes flicked to Ryo's. What do I have to lose? I might not even see him again. And, if he really is going to be a psychologist, then he's going to hear a lot worse. Right?
"Have you learned much about fear in your classes?" she asked, as calmly as she could. Ryo's glance remained passive, but focused on her face. He smiled, a soothing muscle action that didn't communicate actual emotion.
"Of course. Fear is arguably the most instinctive, primal emotion. Every living creature with sufficient neural functioning experiences fear."
Amy pushed her tray aside and parked her elbows on the table. "As a way to promote survival," she mused, balancing her chin in her palms.
Ryo nodded. "Yes. Prey animals fear predators; they flee; they survive." He turned his attention to his food, cutting an unidentifiable lump of meat with zero enthusiasm. "But humans, having much broader experiences than the next animal, have much more to fear than physical harm."
Oh, subtle. Amy couldn't help but smile at how neatly Ryo had turned the conversation from theory, to animals, to people. Although he hadn't made any inquiries, the question was floating between them, almost as visibly as subtitles.
Amy's fingertips drummed against the laminate. "I'm leaving for the summer. I got a research job in another state."
"I see." Ryo lifted a forkful of mystery meat, frowned, and put it back down. "It's not uncommon to feel anxious about being away from home for a significant amount of time, especially if you haven't done it before."
"I'm not…" Amy's teeth dug into her lower lip. Suddenly, she was upset with herself for having opened up this discussion, but what could she do now? There was no clear way out at this point. "I'm not attached to the physical place."
Ryo abandoned his lunch and leaned back in his seat, his posture professional, but not intimidating. "You live on campus, right?" Amy nodded. "Hmm. Since you've chosen to live here, it follows that whatever you want to be with is also here. A friend, then?"
Amy was hesitating over her answer when Ryo suddenly leaned forward. "Ah- a significant other." A self-satisfied smirk overtook his face, the strongest emotion he had shown thus far, and Amy had no idea how to explain it.
"Uh- ah-" She cleared her throat. "Yes? Both, I mean."
"Is there a particular reason why a season's separation from them makes you anxious? It's not a short interval, per se, but it's not an incredibly long one, either."
Why am I doing, talking about this? Ryo's reasonable words, spoken so evenly, made her feel like a fool. What was she supposed to say? She couldn't think of anything that wouldn't make her sound neurotic and needy. After much hesitation, she cut off her defensive explanations and delivered the truth, as simply and concisely as possible. "I've never been alone before."
There was no change to Ryo's expression, but he didn't answer immediately. "These friends of yours, who I presume have prevented you from feeling alone for so long… Do you really think you'll be apart from them if you're in a different physical place?"
An embarrassing mewl of surprise popped out of Amy. Of course she knew that Tai and the others wouldn't forget about her the moment she stepped onto her train to Ohio. They would take her calls and offer advice and support. But they won't be there.
"What if something happens?" she heard herself say, as if from a great distance. "What if I can't handle it? What if there's an emergency or an accident, or something?"
She was flinching before Ryo even reacted. The voice of her mother filled her mind, fretting over her safety, so certain that wolves would descend on her the moment she left the house. The booming tones of her father followed, reminding her that she couldn't handle anything without Jesse, Jerry, Tai, or Matt chaperoning. Her hands scuttled towards her body, then clasped in front of her chest, as if to shield it.
Ryo's eyes bore into hers, and she looked back helplessly. In that moment, she was convinced that he could read her mind, that he knew every detail of the childhood that she kept trying to walk away from.
"Are those your fears," he said quietly, "or someone else's?" Amy didn't answer; she couldn't find her voice, or enough clarity of mind to form a reply. Ryo turned away, and her relief at being freed from his gaze had her sliding down in her chair. "It would seem that Hana's conversation is dying down." He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and removed a card, then offered it to her. Amy was so frazzled that she reached for it without thought.
It was an embossed business card, printed on thick paper that delighted all of Amy's writing instincts. In a lighter atmosphere, Amy might have joked about Ryo carrying something so formal and expensive when he wasn't a working adult yet, but staring at it was the best she could manage.
"If it's helpful to you, please feel free to call me." Amy ripped her attention away from the card and shifted it to Ryo.
"Why… Why are you being so kind to me?" In her overwrought state, Amy was insensible to any rudeness or strangeness in her question.
Ryo looked over at Hana, who was just starting to leave the other table. "Hmm? You're a friend of Hana's, of course. Now, put that away."
The answer startled her, and Amy had the sense that he wouldn't have said something like that if he wasn't distracted by Hana's return. Ryo reverted to their conversation about Ireland, and, when Hana slipped back into her seat, there was nothing to suggest that they had spoken of anything less commonplace than travel.
Some time later, Amy left the cafeteria with a reinforced sense that the world houses some strange and interesting individuals.
Another Day
As planned, Sora let Matt into her dorm room, then slipped out, leaving him alone with Amy. She was bent over a textbook and wearing headphones, and she didn't notice him until he was standing right beside her chair.
A wave caught her eye without startling her, a maneuver Matt had perfected over the years. He braced for signs of discomfort when she turned towards him, and was relieved to find her smiling.
"Hi, Matt!" she said, rolling her chair closer. He watched her gaze run over him from head to toe. "I like what you did with your hair. And this is a new shirt, right?" Her fingers closed around the hem, gently testing the fabric. "Hmm... You know, Matt, if these shirts get any thinner, they'll be see-through."
Matt tried to pass his snort off as a dismissive sound, instead of a swallowed laugh. Hopefully, his astonishment wasn't all over his face. Given Amy's behavior over the last few days, he had expected her to awkwardly flee the room.
She backed her chair up and stood, and Matt shifted until he was between her and the door. But Amy removed her headphones, took a seat on her bed, and patted the spot beside her. Matt obeyed, somewhat warily, and tried to keep the book he was carrying out of sight.
Amy sighed, then leaned against his side, resting her head on his shoulder. Matt waited, watching her foot bounce against the floor.
"I'm really sorry, Matt," she said at last, her voice subdued, but earnest.
Matt frowned down at her and gripped her far shoulder. He had come here expecting to apologize, not hear an apology, but he knew better than to interrupt when Amy opened a tricky subject on her own.
"I know you've been trying to encourage me to do what you think will be good for me. I should have known better than to think that you just wanted to get rid of me."
"You thought what?" Matt demanded, then bit back a curse. Amy flinched back at the violence of his outburst. "Sorry," he said quickly, pausing for a deep breath. "Sorry. I just... I thought you just didn't like being pressured to do something you weren't sure you wanted to do. I had no idea you thought that I wanted-" He broke off and frowned, unable to finish such a stupid thought.
He sighed, then ran his fingers through his hair, ruining half an hour of careful styling. Was it really that strange for Amy to think that he didn't want her around? He recalled admitting to Izzy that he was eager for space from Amy in high school, and Amy had always been perceptive.
"I really wish you'd tell me what you're thinking." Matt pulled her back in and rested his head against hers. "I'm sorry it came off as pushing you away. You know I'm a loner, and I like my space, but let me tell you right now... We're friends. We're family. Even if I want to be left alone every now and then, I never want you gone. Not for three months, not for three weeks, not for three..." Amy laughed, and Matt grinned, allowing her point. "Okay, so three days, yeah, not a big deal. Sometimes necessary."
"Thanks, Matt." Amy hugged him, then batted him away. "You're rubbing hair gel on me, gross!"
Matt opened his mouth to protest, but she was right; their was a shiny patch in her hair where they had touched. "I'll be damned," he said, frowning. "Maybe I should use less...?"
"Talk to Sora," Amy replied, grinning. "She's the one who's always stroking it."
"What can I say," Matt returned, slipping into his easy arrogance. "The ladies love it."
Her eyes rolled, but her smile only grew. "Careful, Narcissus."
Matt grimaced, then grabbed the book from the far side of the bed, desperate to distract her from a mythology lesson. "Here," he said, holding it out to her. "I brought you a peace offering."
"Oh!" Amy gawked at the book before accepting it. Her eyes and hands roamed over it, and she sighed unconsciously a few times. Matt shook his head and smiled. Just looking at her, he would have assumed that she had just received an expensive piece of jewelry, or perhaps a painting.
"It's so pretty," she breathed. "And look at the weight and grain of the paper! It's so high quality... I've been wanting this exact copy of Emma for a long time, how did you-"
She broke off, then looked from Matt to the book. "Wait- Emma-" He tried to produce an easy, suave grin, but he could feel the stiffness in his facial muscles.
Amy chuckled, patted the cover of the book, then breathed TK's name, the whole thing. Matt snorted, and so did Amy, and then they were laughing like idiots.
"God," Matt said when they calmed down, "God, am I glad my father named me."
"You should be. If your mom gave you a name like TK's, you wouldn't be able to put it on your CDs, now would you?"
Matt gave her a push, a very dilute version of the shoves he and Tai bestowed on each other. "So, we're good, then, Gorgeous?"
Amy's expression softened, and she leaned in, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek. "Of course. Thank you for this, I'll be sure to take it with me when I leave."
Matt's body jerked straighter, and Amy lifted a hand to her mouth. "Ah- Well- I meant to tell you and Tai at the same time-"
"You're going?" he blurted, taking hold of her shoulder. "Amy- that's great! I'll call you, and you can call me whenever you feel homesick. I may be in band practice, but I'll call back when I see the missed call-"
Amy cut him off with a wave. "I know. Thank you." Her lips trembled when she smiled, and Matt was tempted to make sure that she was alright, but he decided to observe, instead. "Do me a favor and look surprised when I tell you and Tai. I don't want him to feel left out."
Shouldn't be hard. I think I'll still be shocked. "No problem."
A few beats of silence passed, and Amy stood and walked fretfully around her desk. "Um- I'm really sorry about this, Matt, but I have a test tomorrow, and-"
"Seriously? There's a test tomorrow, and you let me in the room?" The interjection was only half meant in jest.
"Technically, Sora let you in." He snorted, shook his head, and stood, pausing as he passed her.
He took hold of her shoulder and tried to squash the uncomfortable feelings that rose whenever he broached a sentimental subject. "I'm proud of you," he said at last, hoping that it didn't sound condescending.
Amy placed Emma on her desk, then caught him in a hug that had his ribs creaking. "Thank you," she whispered. When she released him, Matt left the room directly, unwilling to stick around in a gooey atmosphere.
It felt a little unfair to Tai, and even to Amy, since she might want to tell him herself, but Matt was on the phone with his brother in less than a minute.
Another Day
"Sora- where do you want these?"
Tai's arms were supporting two stacked cases of water bottles. Normally, he would have been okay with the weight, but after running all over the place carting crap around, he was feeling the strain.
Sora glanced at him, then turned away when one of her models popped up to ask a question. Tai felt his jaw clench as his arms trembled. Couldn't the girl wait ten seconds?
"Sora," he broke in when the girl turned away, but her eyes were already on her clipboard. She looked up, then tilted her head.
"No thanks, I'm fine," she muttered, flipping a page over.
Sweat dripped down his forehead, stinging his eyes, and he fought to swallow a curse. "Sora," he said through gritted teeth, trying to keep his voice level, "you asked me to get water for the girls. Where do you want it?"
Her fingers went to her hair, clipping behind her ear. "God, Tai," she said, and the words seem to bust right out of her. Tai had a fleeting vision of that scene from Alien where the baby alien pops out of the guy's chest. "The show- I'm up in like half an hour- what do I do?!"
The cases slipped down an inch in his arms, and he swallowed a grunt. Oh, no, he thought, tipping his head over his shoulder. Full on freak-outs are boyfriend territory. "Matt," he shouted, not without some measure of desperation.
The bassist peeked out from behind a curtain shielding a changing booth. The dressing area behind the stage and cat walk was nothing like the one in Amy's high school drama club. Those were large, open, harshly it rooms, equipped with mirrors spanning entire walls and lots of counter space on the perimeters. Apparently, damaging the clothing was too great a concern in this situation, and the girls were changing behind curtains forming square partitions, and doing their hair and makeup elsewhere.
Tai followed Matt's glance to the water, then over his shoulder to Sora. His brow furrowed, and he slipped out of the changing area. He lifted the top crate, and Tai sighed with relief. "Just set it down," Matt muttered. "I'll get Sora sorted out and try to get the water on ice or something." He tipped his head towards the changing booth he had come from. "Take care of that for me."
Sweet, Tai thought, fighting down a grin. He edged up to the curtain, then hesitated. There was no door to knock on, so he shook the fabric a little. "Hey, uh, did you need some help in there?"
"Yeah," a muffled voice called. She said something about a zipper, but Tai was already slipping inside.
The space beyond the curtain was hardly big enough to turn around in, and Tai found himself almost pressed against a slim, half-bare back. The girl tipped her head over her shoulder, and Tai stepped back into the curtain when he recognized her.
"Hana!" he cried. "Geez, you keep turning up everywhere."
She lifted her upturned nose in a vain gesture, and Tai couldn't tell whether she was joking or not. "Sora asked me to be in her fashion show, because I'm so graceful."
Tai stared at her, then began to laugh. "Damn!" he cried, ignoring the narrowing of Hana's eyes. "I didn't expect Sora to go flattering people into doing what she wants."
The dancer scowled at him. "She meant it, Tai. Just zip me up and leave, if you're going to be a jerk."
"Okay, okay." Still grinning, Tai grabbed the sides of her dress, pulled them together, and lifted the zipper in an easy motion.
Hana blinked and shifted her upper body, as if to ensure that she was safely zipped. "Wow. Matt struggled with it for like three minutes."
Tai shrugged. "My bedroom's right next to my sister's. She just puts the dress on like you did, then calls me over. Guess I got good at it. Didn't think it was so hard."
"Hmm…" Hana ran her palms up and down the sides of the dress, as if to test the fit. "Most guys I know would be squeamish in that situation."
"Why? It's just her back," Tai said, scowling. "Anyway, if my sister needs me, then whatever, I'll do it."
Hana backed away enough to take a good look at him. "You know, you look like a dumb jock… But you're actually pretty sweet, aren't you?"
Tai bristled, unhappy with both the insult and the praise. Granted, he did see himself as a jock, but not in the sense of being stupid, and he was resistant to being called sweet, as well. That was just too mushy, and he was not mushy, thank you very much. He opened his mouth to argue before his comeback was even formed.
"'Scuse me? Could I get some help in here? Tai?"
"Mimi?" Tai asked, turning towards the booth to the right. "Uh- yeah, just a sec. See ya, Hana. You should go to where the makeup and hair people are." He pointed vaguely to the left, completely useless directions from inside the booth. Being bossy was the only revenge he could have at the moment, since he was needed elsewhere.
"I know what to do, thanks," she said, looking a little grumpy. Tai was about to back out of the booth, so that she could leave, when she put a hand on his chest, nudging him aside. With the space half-cleared, she turned sideways, then slipped past, leaning into him for balance as she went.
The contact was brief, but still quite appreciated, at least on his end. Tai flicked back the curtain and watched her walk away with an expression of mixed male pride and surprise.
"Tai? Come on, I have like a thousand things to do!"
"Geez, Mimi," Tai muttered. He tore his gaze away from Hana's backside and slipped into her booth.
Soon After
"Um... why do I have to wear this?"
Mimi smiled at Amy, but there was some tightness beneath the expression. While helping Sora out with some of the details surrounding the fashion show had been an act of friendship, the actual flurry of activity behind the scenes was giving her a rush that she couldn't quite explain. Everything was coming together, piece by piece, and, before her eyes, the girls she had gotten to know over the past few weeks were transforming into goddesses, wearing outfits designed just for their bodies, and makeup and hair styles chosen to compliment their features. Mimi couldn't believe how fulfilling it was to make happen.
She wanted to be out there, helping the makeup artists and supporting Sora, who was seriously starting to freak out under the pressure. As much as she loved Amy, she didn't have time to argue this.
Mimi lifted the tiny, clinging number that Sora had made for Amy. "Sweetheart, this dress is going to show every curve you've got," she said, waggling it enticingly. "And every girl has some curves on her that are better off being smoothed out. That's what this is for."
Amy frowned at the body form in her hands. "It's... How do I get it on? It's teeny and stiff."
"Yeah, they can be tough," Mimi admitted. "Do you want me to send Izzy back? I told him and Joe to stand by, in case we need more help."
"Oh- No, no, I got it. Thanks, Mimi." Amy turned around and began to strip, and Mimi left, trying not to fret over the explosion of panic and discomfort that had overtaken her friend's features.
I don't have time to wonder about that now, she told herself forcefully. They need help over in makeup.
She spent the last quarter hour before the show darting around in a hazy cloud of hair spray, touching up makeup, slipping stray hairs into place, and smoothing out folds in dresses. Although she wanted to watch the girls work the runway, she was needed here, and she helped until it was her turn to strut.
Immediately After
Izzy was leaning heavily against the chair's armrest. Despite the loud music, clicking of cameras, rotating spot lights, and the vocalizations of the crowd, he was close to nodding off. To his surprise, there were plenty of men in the fashion show audience. Given Joe's rapt attention, Izzy began to realize that most of his peers were glad to watch the girls flounce in front of them, often in scanty outfits.
He sighed and closed his eyes, and Joe didn't shake him off when his head bumped into his upper arm. For a few minutes, he was spared the assaulting flurry of visual activity.
But Joe eventually shook him, knocking him out of his half-doze. "Izzy- look-"
Blinking, then squinting as a spotlight swung past his face, Izzy straightened in his chair. Mimi was walking down the runway, and her grace and ease suggested long familiarity with modeling. A low murmur formed beneath the cheering, and Izzy heard a few whispered profanities, uttered oddly like prayers.
She was beautiful, yes, with an expression of self-command and disinterest typical of models. And Izzy had no idea how she was doing that gliding, graceful movement that called attention to her slim legs and waist. But really, she was just a woman strutting in a dress. There was no need for the men around him to stare, slack jawed and blank-faced, the way they were. Since Joe was right beside him, he watched politely, then privately congratulated himself for being immune to such surface attractions.
Then, Mimi slipped off of the stage, and there was a collective breath as the male viewers remembered to breathe. Shaking his head, Izzy leaned back against the arm rest, only to be jerked upright again by Joe's elbow. "Uh, I think you'll want to see this," he muttered, and the tightness of his tone put Izzy at attention.
Amy had started down the runway, but froze when the flashes from cameras overwhelmed her. Wide eyed, and making jerky, fretful movements, she truly resembled the proverbial deer in headlights. She looked back over her shoulder, as if someone had called her, and then she shook off her panic and started to walk.
Izzy saw all of that, but hardly registered it. It felt like someone had kicked him in the stomach, and he leaned over, covering the imaginary wound with his hands.
"I will pay whatever Sora asks for that dress," he muttered, and Joe shook his head wordlessly. It was low cut and incredibly clingy, except for the loose skirt, which bounced with the swaying of her hips. Even the color, a deep, warm shade of plum, appealed to him, and he usually wasn't interested in such things.
Amy turned robotically at the end of the catwalk, and an obscene hand motion a few rows ahead caught Izzy's attention. The boy followed it by pantomiming an hourglass shape with his hands and jeering.
"You're into her?" the boy beside him half shouted.
"Hell yeah," he replied, laughing. "Just my type- dem curves!"
His companion ogled at him. "Waaay too much meat for me, man. Kinda plain, too- she looks terrified. Not like that last girl, fuck, she was hot."
"More for me, asshole."
Izzy forced himself not to hear the rest, and not to be upset by their vulgarities. "I suddenly feel very little affection for my sex," he said to Joe.
"Ignore them," Joe advised. "Hey, look, isn't that the girl you tutor sometimes?"
"Hana." Somehow, Izzy wasn't surprised to see her. At this point, her random appearances seemed normal.
Izzy did his best to pay attention to the rest of the show, as if in homage to Sora. Besides, he thought, having a few meaningful comments prepared about the show might aid me in convincing Sora to part with that dress.
Later
The last girl to take the cat walk was returning backstage, and Sora watched her, wide-eyed and disbelieving. Somehow, it was over. After weeks of planning, drafting patterns, sewing, talking, and sewing some more, weeks of fretting and being overrun by her own perfectionist tendencies, it was over.
A manic laugh bubbled out of Sora as the model passed, and the girl gave her a startled look. Hands thumped her shoulders, then latched to them, and Sora leaned into the body behind her. She tipped her head back and smiled, then fought not to twitch when she saw Tai.
"I guess that's it!" he said, patting her shoulders some more. "You did great, Sora."
She shifted forward, trying to separate her back from his front. Sora had it from Amy that Tai was too hands-on for his own good, but this was a bit much, especially by the restricted sense of body contact she had grown up with in Japan.
"Hey, you should let us treat you to dinner," he continued. Sora melted a little at the grin that passed his face. He reminded her of a child who had just made a selfless offer, and wanted to be praised for it. Somehow, it was oddly endearing.
"I've got that covered, Tai."
Although Sora hadn't done anything wrong, an odd jolt of nerves shook her when she saw Matt approaching. His hands were in his jeans pockets, and his walk was loose and liquid. Sora recognized a predator's limber stride from Amy's nature documentary on wolves.
"I should be the one treating all of you," Sora said, trying to slip free from Tai's grip. Although his hands had been merely resting on her shoulders before Matt showed up, they were curled around them now.
Sora was an only child, and she had little experience with male posturing. But she was sensing some kind of a contest taking place between the two boys now, one that she couldn't quite explain.
"Tai? Can you help me with my zipper?"
Sora could vaguely feel the tugging on Tai's arm as he jerked slightly to the side. Amy was pawing at him, looking haggard and cranky, like a little girl who had missed her nap.
"Uh, sure." Tai released Sora, and she stepped forward automatically, reestablishing her personal space. She watched the two of them move to the changing area with a sense of gratitude.
Did Amy step in on purpose, or is she just eager to get out of the body form? Sora was never quite sure how much credit to give her roommate in these situations, but she shrugged off the question as Matt wrapped his arms around her. She sighed and slipped into his embrace as one might sink into a bubble bath.
"Don't mind Tai. He's just an idiot when it comes to personal space. Anyway… Show's over. You okay?" he whispered. His hand ran over the back of her head, lightly pressing her face into his shoulder. Sora could sense the activity around them, the people passing by. And she knew that the next designer needed them to clear out as soon as possible. But she was so tired, and an odd disconnect was surrounding her, distorting her perception. It reminded her of the feeling she had last semester when she walked out of her last final exam, but magnified.
She had survived the flurry of activity all these weeks by riding a wave of nerves, frantic energy, and single-minded intensity, and, now that it was over, she felt the accumulative drain all at once. Just lifting her head felt like fighting to break the surface of water. "Matt," she sighed, turning her eyes towards his. "People might want to celebrate. I'm grateful. That's so nice. But please, I want to sleep."
"I'll tell them," he murmured. His lips pressed against her temple, and then he swung her outward, pinning an arm around her shoulder. Sora propped herself against his side, leaning into him with every step. "Tell me what you need done. Tai, Amy, Mimi, and I will take care of the rest."
Sora nearly cried with gratitude as Matt pulled a chair away from one of the makeup tables and helped her into it. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I have a list of what needs to be done before the next designer takes over." Sora motioned with her hands, but realized that her clip board was gone. Panic spiked, then faded as Mimi pranced over, with the clip board tucked under her arm.
"You left this by the runway," she said, beaming down at her. "God, I don't know if I've ever had this much fun. You were amazing!"
Sora had to fight to keep her eyes on Mimi's face. It was oddly like staring into the sun, and Sora couldn't digest that much excitement and enthusiasm at the moment.
"Thanks," she murmured, but Matt was taking hold of the clipboard and making a request of Mimi. It occurred to Sora that taking care of the aftermath of the show was still a part of the show, and she tried to summon up some energy and interest, but she couldn't even stand.
Matt placed a hand on her shoulder and pushed, keeping her in the seat. "Rest. We'll take care of this."
Sora wanted to push back. Everything had to be done to the letter, and she had to see it happen. Matt squatted, so that he was beside her, and Sora realized that he was frowning. "I know how important this is to you. Trust me. You've done more than enough. I'll take care of the rest."
Her vision blurred, and Sora was unsure whether to attribute it to tears or fatigue. She nodded, then settled into the chair.
For a while, the sounds of Matt giving instructions and her friends asking questions filled her ears. Her head drooped as the minutes passed, and the voices became murmurs, then fell away.
Author's Notes:
The next chapter picks up directly with Matt helping Sora back to her dorm after the show. I was going to include it here, but this chapter is already too dang long, so… Yay for Sorato next chapter, and such XD
Now, have some notes that are far too influenced by reading Penguin classics with excellent notes sections!
No one mentioned that Amy and Izzy are dating: If my understanding of her character is correct, Hana normally would have pointed Amy out and introduced her to Rochelle as Izzy's girlfriend, but Rochelle distracted her by bringing up their dancing classes.
Jesse: Amy's older brother (he's only been mentioned once or twice, so I figured people might have forgotten).
Ennui and Oscar Wilde: Irish writer Oscar Wilde is strongly associated with the concept of ennui, mostly because of the dialog and habits of Lord Henry Wotton in The Picture of Dorian Gray.
Isn't this our first conversation?: Amy's wrong; she spoke to Ryo in chapter Chapter 22, but it was a brief, simple exchange, and she was drunk.
You're a friend of Hana's: My favorite trait of Ryo's is that, on rare occasions, he says cute stuff like this without realizing it.
Okay, thanks for reading! Growing Up with You will be updated next.
