Chapter 12 : If You Can’d Dance, then You Won’t Live (entire)

Brandi grabbed Roger’s arm as the judges glanced in their direction, giving them nods of approval. It had been months since she had last taken a step in Mrs. Redman’s class, but here, after a few deep breaths she relaxed her shoulders and leaned into her partner. Trying her best to think about the music and the costumed people who seemed to belong more to this time period than them. Roger leaned closer too, as if trying to suppress a giggle. She gave him a furtive glance, demanding silence. Seriousness.

Shrinking into himself, he glanced nervously at his feet, while she attempted to guide them. “I take it, you’ve done this before?”

“Yes,” Brandi said, clearing her throat as his hands moved from around her neck to capture her shoulders. She stiffened. Her eyes going into the space just above his head.

He relaxed as they switched positions. “Good, then I don’t feel so stupid, about standing where you once stood,” he said, as if offering her some new joke.

Brandi frowned, wondering if he was trying to tell her something about what had happened to him, and how he had ended up being her guardian. But the distant expression on his face told her otherwise. Besides, he was the guy who read about baseball for fun. She had seen him do it during English class, when he suspected that no one else was looking. Now though, she wondered if he didn’t know anything about music. Or any of the musical greats. She shook her head, thinking briefly about Teresa, her eyes following Roger. There was no other way to explain their connection. Especially since the last trip she had taken, like this, had happened while she was sleeping. Her brow wrinkled. Was this some sort of astral projection? she thought, hearing some old 60’s music start up.

“Don’t worry. It’s only the monkey,” Roger said, making some weird gestures with his hands. “Watch me. Or follow the crowd.”

He smiled as a group of women beside them squealed, their arms going up and down as they moved from side to side. Then he grabbed Brandi’s hands. “Come on.”

For a few seconds, Brandi watched him, wondering which one was more ridiculous – the group of screaming women at their side or Roger, who was actually acting like a real monkey. She made a face, forgetting herself. Slowly, letting out the air that had collected in her lungs, she copied his movements. Her body loosening up on its own. Was this really what the 60’s had been like? she asked herself, trying to remember some of the crazy dances her mother had shown her, after her dance sessions. There had been the pony and the swim, if she remembered correctly. Her mother, she was almost certain, had been even more adept. She glanced at Roger. A guy like him would have nothing on the pony, she thought, moving closer.

Likewise, he ambled towards her, too busy doing his own routine to notice her changed expression.

So she leaned in closer and challenged him. “Can you do the pony?”

Roger’s hands stopped, as he gazed across the room. The others changed their moves to match the new music. He looked down at Brandi, becoming even more suspicious, beads of sweat dropping from his face as he became a little more serious. “No, but, can you?”

Like a dance instructor Brandi created some room and performed the steps. “Right, ball, change,” she said, making sure that his eyes were directed at her feet. “Left, ball, change.” The black dress showing the crisp exactness of her execution as Roger’s eyes moved momentarily to assess the jerky movements of the man beside him, whose number read seven.

Taking a deep breath, Roger followed her slowly, as the disco ball changed from red to blue to silver. Watching Brandi move freely across the floor, he wondered what she might have done to get them there, because she seemed to be able to control the music. Unless, she had no idea what she was doing and didn’t know that changing plaines was forbidden for seers.

He put a hand up, is self-defense and asked, “Have you figured out how to get us out of here?”

Brandi shrugged. Certain that their arrival there hadn’t been her fault. “No. This has nothing to do with me,” she said, biting her bottom lip. Looking up at him, she wondered if he knew more than he was letting on, because surely someone, at the other party, would realize that they were gone.

Teresa. She would ring the alarm.

With her free hand, Brandi tried to pull at the number that was stitched to her back. But Roger dissuaded her, because the people around them were suddenly closing in. Making their space even smaller.

“The Hitchhiker,” he said, his feet going numb, as her eyes darted towards him. “And I challenge you to do the Hitchhiker.”

Brandi eyed him cautiously, as the music changed and the other dancers became a little more erratic. Were they hailing a cab? Or trying to get a lift? she asked herself, as the woman next to her put a hand on her hips and followed the now familiar gestures.

“Oh, crap,” Roger said, as a guy backed into him. He groaned, running his hands through his hair. Brandi wanted to smile at his confused look, but she was too busy learning the moves. Could it have been any worse? she wondered, as the man next to them collapsed.

Roger turned, realizing that he wasn’t the only one who was a lousy dancer. At the left side of them, the man’s dance partner reached down to help him up.

Roger pulled back, grabbing hold of Brandi’s arm as the overhead lights became brighter. The DJ stepped up to the mike and motioned towards the odd couple. “Seems like we have our first casualty,” she said, her sequined dress, shimmering in the limelight. Her voice boomed louder than the music as Brandi peered at her, because her voice sounded familiar.

Then the DJ bowed and cheered. “Hats off to the lovely couple.” The spotlight came on, captured them as the other couples parted.

“Death by flaming shoes.”

Almost instinctively, Brandi ran towards Roger who shielded her eyes as the couples’ shoes caught on fire and then their bodies evaporated.

A warning bell sounded and Brandi looked at Roger perplexed. She had never experienced anything so tragic before, her fingers tightening around his. Color drained from Roger’s face as a man with a red baseball cap moved towards them.

Following her lead, he squeezed her hand and lifted her chin. “You’re the only one who can get us out of this.”

Brandi’s face folded. “You can’t be serious?”

He nodded. Looked at her, his face calm. “Yes, this is not a test,” he said, forcing her to take in the entire room. And then, as if reading the rules that had been on the strip he reminded her, “To the Seer of the Past, you can see the past and the present but you cannot change time.”

Brandi sighed, remembering the flaming couple as her eyes met Lucien’s. Some things it seems are just meant to be, she thought, nodding at Roger, knowing that having Lucien there wasn’t a good sign.

Around them, the other couples joined hands and Roger took Brandi’s hand. “Act as if nothing strange has just happened,” he said, feeling the temperature in the room increase. “Act as if everything is normal and can be fixed.”

Brandi nodded as her eyes met those of the woman on the stage. She flashed a smile, and Brandi wondered if what she was doing was eliminating the competition, as the DJ, Latoya waved a hand in the air, as if to say, see you on the other side.