Ch.17
By the time that the swing had come to an end, Sarah had managed to calm down, regain her composure and wedge herself firmly in the middle of a bunch of girls. They were all sitting down in chairs around the perimeter of the studio, waiting to be asked to dance and chatting excitedly.
She knew there was to be no real companionship there for her, but she new as well, that she now stood out too much to sit in solitude – at least if she wanted to avoid being asked. Which, being Sarah, she did.
There was, after all, safety in numbers.
Most of the boys were generally much shyer than Adam, and picked off the girls at the edges of the group, or those sitting in twos and threes, rather than risking going straight to the center of the large group and being surrounded.
Only the TAs, coerced into their Hippocratic Oath to dance with everyone, ever ventured to the center of the group, or "the Herd", as Sarah preferred to think of it.
But her fears were allayed as the lights came back on and the music was muted. Not that it was all that great to have the lights on, after everyone was used the semi-darkness. Makeup looked almost clownish, and the sweat-stains were beginning to show. Everything looked much more magical in the dark. One could almost believe that the dance was a bit surreal, a bit more romantic and powerful...
But who was she kidding, really? Valentine Evenings had no place here. Or anywhere, for that matter, she told herself firmly. And the world falling down wasn't such a great experience, when it came to it. Lots of glass and glitter, and when you got down to it, a great big stinking pile of junk. And a rotten peach to top it all off.
Besides, the only good dancer she knew was Adam, and he was definitely no fairy-tale prince. She almost snorted at the thought. Talk about kissing a frog!
She giggled to herself quietly, as the other girls paused in their gossiping and oggling to stare at her. It's not that they meant to be cruel – well, a select few did, - but they felt that she was aloof, and they didn't appreciate the different. She didn't care about her status – that, too, was inexcusable. She was taken up by Adam. That made her an object of jealousy to some and got her the label of "slut" or , at best, "future slut" by others. She was exquisitely beautiful, but not conventionally so. That made most of them feel very insecure.
Soon, however, the girls' attention was completely occupied by a lithe figure in the middle of the studio. His body was deceptively lean, but it emanated a poise and grace that could only come from a strength and power that went beyond his looks. Not that the girls could even really sense this. What they felt was the sensuality of the man before them. What they saw was a perfect specimen of a dancer. Their interest was definitely peaked. As the man turned, slowly looking at the class before him, they saw that he was dressed just like the model from the dance clothing magazine. The same ballroom pants, form-clinging along the hips and thighs and loose the rest of the way down, the same designer white button-down shirt, with large cuffs and standing collar - and a few careless rhinestones here and there.
"Listen up, everyone!" the old teacher said gruffly. "Eric was scheduled as our guest teacher today, but he couldn't make it. That's the bad news. The good news is, he sent his friend to take over for him. So, everyone better behave and pay attention! You'd better be respectful, or I'll kick your ass!"
The class smiled at the haphazard introduction. The old teacher always said stuff like that, which actually just made him that much more powerless and endearing.
"Hello, Class." the guest teacher-substitute said.
Sarah's head whipped around at the sound of that voice, and her heart jumped to her throat.