The Dance
“You’re as bad as she is,” Patty shrieked. She jabbed a finger at Lesley. “You and Mo, acting like you’re Chosens. What will you do next, show up at the Reproductive Technology Centre and tell them you want to have a baby? You’re both crazy. Grow up! Stop clinging to each other!”
“You said the same thing to Mo, didn’t you?”
“What if I did? It’s pathetic, watching the two of you pretend you’re Joined.”
“Though I guess if it was me and you rather than me and Mo, that would be okay.”
Patty stared at her, open-mouthed. Then she found her tongue. “Don’t flatter yourself! Going to the dance with you would have been a bit of fun, nothing more.” She stood and cupped Lesley’s chin in her right hand. “Because you’re such a pretty thing, aren’t you, Lesley?” she cooed. “And a bit of fun is all pretty things are good for.” Smirking, she ran her finger along Lesley’s cheek, then dropped her hand and walked away.
Lesley grimaced. Next time she went to the bathroom, she’d give her face a good wash. If she wanted to be snotty, she could go to the office and report a violation of Article 442, but the resulting stink would outweigh the benefits, and the accusation would be difficult to support. It would be her word against Patty’s. She glanced around the immediate area. Nobody else had witnessed—
A familiar figure caught her eye: Mo, standing outside the nearest entrance to the academy. Lesley grabbed her lunchbox and scrambled to get her long legs out from under the picnic table. “Mo!” she called.
Mo wheeled and pulled open the academy door.
“Mo!” Lesley shouted, wincing when the corner of the table jabbed into her thigh in her haste to get around it. “Wait! I want to talk to you.”
Mo disappeared into the academy. Lesley ran to the entrance and yanked the door open. Mo was already at the other end of the corridor.
“Mo!” She ran after her, almost barreling into a passing student. “Excuse me,” she murmured, her eyes on Mo.
“Lesley Thompson!” a woman’s voice cracked behind her.
She inwardly groaned and turned around.
Instructor Carter strode toward her. “I must have missed the announcement that running is now acceptable within the academy.”
“I’m sorry.”
“As you should be. What’s your next class?”
“Literature of the Law.”
“Which I believe is that way.” Carter pointed in the direction opposite the one Mo had taken. “You can use the remaining ten minutes of your lunch period to review your notes from yesterday’s class. Now go.”
“I’ll have to go to the common room first to pick up my notes.”
Carter glared at her. “Lesley, you’re testing my patience.”
“I’m just asking permission to go to the common room before I go to the classroom.”
Carter rolled her eyes. “Do I have to spell everything out? Go to the common room, pick up your notes, then go to your Literature of the Law classroom, which, I’ll point out, is right next to the common room. Sit at a desk, open your notebook, and review your notes from yesterday’s class. Breathing, swallowing, and blinking are permitted. Clear?”
Lesley nodded.
Carter pointed down the corridor again. “Then go. Now!”
Since lunch period wasn’t over, the common room was empty when Lesley entered. She slid her lunchbox into an empty slot and bent down to open her satchel, stored on a shelf near the floor. Mo’s knapsack sat next to it. Perhaps she should scribble a quick note, suggest that they meet in their usual spot at the end of the day to talk things out? No, Mo might not find the note until it was too late. More importantly, handling someone’s personal items without permission would be a violation of Article 366. That had never stopped them from slipping notes into each other’s bags before, since they had each other’s permission, but with the mood Mo was in, Lesley didn’t want to risk it. She pulled her notes from her satchel and left.
Lesley took her usual spot in the front row of the empty classroom and opened her notebook, but all she could think about was Mo. They needed to talk, but when? They had a class together later, but they’d had a class together that morning and Mo had treated her like a stranger, nodding curtly to her as she sat down and collecting her things without a word when class finished. Lesley would likely receive the same treatment, or worse, later. Maybe the academy wasn’t the best place to have the conversation, anyway. Carter may have done them a favour.
She could beep Mo later, after supper. No, that wouldn’t work. Thursdays were discuss an article night, which meant supper wouldn’t really be over until about nine, and then she’d have to do her homework. Normally she wouldn’t mind; she enjoyed listening to her parents expound on the finer points of a selected article, especially one for which they’d successfully advocated an amendment. Having two advocates to consult when doing her Advanced Law homework didn’t hurt, either. But tonight she’d find it hard to concentrate. She’d have to try, though. She wouldn’t want to upset Mama.
There was no way around it. Talking to Mo would have to wait. She’d go over to Mo’s tomorrow night; after all, neither of them would be going to the dance. If Mo refused to see her, she’d keep trying until Mo gave in.
Lesley had to understand why Mo had changed the rules of their relationship based on one conversation with Patty. There had to be something she didn’t know, something that had made Mo receptive to Patty’s poison, and she was determined to find out what it was before it destroyed their relationship. She rubbed her forehead. If it hasn’t already.
Mo threw herself onto her bed and tried to clear her mind, but it was no use—the same terrible images monopolized her consciousness. Les and Patty at the picnic table; Patty reaching out and caressing Les’s face; Les staring up at Patty, entranced. And, had she imagined it, or had Patty’s fingers lingered on Les’s face as they’d said good-bye? Mo rolled onto her back and buried her face in her hands. Before her spot at the table had even been cold, Les had moved in another girl, and not just any girl—Patty. Okay, she’d figured Les would find someone else, because that’s what Les wanted. But within twenty-four hours? That was all their relationship had been worth? Twenty-four flaming hours? Well, good riddance! Les could have Patty. Mo hoped they’d be very happy together.