Diary of a Teenage Jewel Thief(19)
“Get what you needed?” he asks, and his eyes search mine like he’s trying to read my secrets.
I break eye contact quickly and head away from the store. “Yep. My shadow looked neat over the jewelry back there.” Never mind the deeper hidden meaning behind my choice of subject matter. If I play it smart, no one will ever make the connection. Except my mother—she’ll get a kick out of it when I show her the picture later while I’m getting ready for teen night.
“You look great. Quit fidgeting!” Trin smacks my hand when I try to tug at the hem of my too-short skirt for the gazillionth time.
I’m not sure why I let her talk me into wearing the snow-white mini, or the shimmery silver halter, or the matching strappy heels. I even let her do my hair instead of wearing my customary ponytail, and I’ve covered it all up with a peacoat. The look on Trin’s face as we left my apartment for the club made it clear she allowed me the coat only because it’s February and underneath it, I’m sorely underdressed for the weather. And as we approach the club, I’m certain these are my last few moments with my coat.
There’s no line outside the club like TV has led me to believe there would be, but the pounding bass reverberates up into my legs through the sidewalk. Trin goes first, smiling at the bouncer like they’re best friends. He doesn’t even check her ID, just produces a permanent marker from one of his pockets and marks her right hand with a black X. I have my ID in hand when I get to the door, but I’m slow passing it over to the bouncer. He checks it, then marks my hand with an X as well.
Berry-scented air and the smell of sweaty bodies hits me the second we walk in. But inside, the club is darker than outside, and I stop for a minute just through the doors, needing time for my eyes to adjust.
Eventually, I can make out tables a few feet away, bordering the dance floor, and Trin already weaving her way through the crowd. I don’t know what I expected for my first time in a nightclub, but I certainly didn’t expect it to be so crowded. It seems like my entire school and then some are clumped out there in front of the DJ, wriggling and undulating to the beat under the multicolored lights. It’s a sensory overload, the loud music, the smells, the crush of too many bodies packed into tight quarters. I’m already itching for the quiet sanctuary of my bedroom, and it’s only seven thirty p.m.
Dancing at home, alone in my room, is okay—even a bit of a stress reliever at the end of a long day—but I’m struggling to understand the appeal of dancing in such crowded confines, brushing up against sweaty bodies, limited to the small amount of space I would take up just standing still. Maybe coming here was a mistake.
I’ll just ease into it. I move toward the tables and walk between them, looking for Trin, whom I’ve lost sight of, or Lacey because she’s supposed to already be here waiting for us. I circle almost halfway around the dance floor before I spot them at a table in the back.
“Hey, you made it!” Lacey yells.
“Isn’t this place great?” Trin dances up next to me and bumps her hip into mine. “Come dance with me.”
I bite my lip like I’m considering it, and then I shake my head. I sit, content to watch as Lacey and Trin shimmy their way onto the dance floor. Some of the faces out there look familiar, maybe from the halls at school, but I don’t see anyone else I know by name. At least most of the people in the club appear to be in their own worlds or focused solely on whoever they’re with, which means I must not be as conspicuous as I feel.
Someone taps my shoulder from behind, and I turn on my stool to look.
“Marisol! I didn’t expect to see you here!” Jamie shouts over the music, then motions to the chair next to me. “May I?”
I nod and wave him toward the chair. “A friend made me come.”
He says something I can’t make out, then leans in close to repeat himself. “Not really your scene, huh?”
I shake my head.
“Do you dance?”
“Only alone in my bedroom,” I half joke.
Jamie looks skeptical. “Come on, I bet you’re a great dancer. Come dance with me?” He holds out his hand and flashes me a smile that could outshine the sun.
The longer I sit here, the more I feel the pull of the music. Dancing with Jamie might be kind of fun. Psyching myself up to get out there and join my friends only takes a few seconds. I inch off my stool and step tentatively away from the table, place my hand in Jamie’s, and let him lead me out onto the dance floor.
The wall of writhing bodies opens just enough for us to slip into its midst, then closes around us, enveloping us with the movement, the unified rhythm. Lacey dances toward me, moves in unison with Jamie and me for a moment. Then she winks at me and turns to dance with a boy. I close my eyes and let everything else slip away, and in that moment, nothing else exists except the beat and me. I breathe in time to the music, move in sync with the heavy, percussive bass notes and synth melody.
My back brushes hard against another body, and I stumble. Strong hands grab my arms, holding me upright until I catch my balance. At first I think it’s Jamie, but when my eyes snap open, he’s standing a few feet in front of me, arms outstretched like he was planning to catch me but missed. As soon as I’m steady on my feet, I turn to face whoever has kept me from falling, ready to lay into him for getting so handsy. “Hey, watch the hands!”