The Dance
Les exhaled sharply. “I wish they didn’t. And they’re wasting their time.” She drew back and took Mo’s face in her hands. “I don’t know what to say. I had no idea, no idea at all. Probably because, to me, you are, and always have been, the cutest girl I’ve ever seen. I like the way you fit under my arm. I like kissing the top of your head. And I like your body just the way it is. If you had big breasts, you’d look funny. You’d probably fall on your face a lot.”
Mo couldn’t help but smile.
“I like that smile, too,” Les said, pinching Mo’s cheek.
They sat grinning at each other, but then Les grew serious. “You know, assuming you know what I want because you think I’m pretty is kind of ironic.” She pointed at herself. “I’m the one who was rejected because of looks, not you.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Mo said, despite thinking that the parallel was a little shaky. She’d rejected Les because she was trying to protect herself. Les wouldn’t be doing that if one of the flirty airheads managed to catch and hold her attention.
“You could try trusting me,” Les said.
“I do.”
“Then talk to me next time, okay? I hope there isn’t a next time, but if there is, talk to me. This whole thing could have been avoided if you’d just talked to me.”
“I know.”
“Don’t assume you know what I want.”
“I won’t.” But a sense of futility mocked her. She couldn’t talk to Les every time she felt insecure, or they’d never talk about anything else.
Les took one of Mo’s hands, kissed it, and curled her fingers around Mo’s. “So, you coming to the dance with me?”
“I don’t know if I should.”
Les’s face fell.
“No, no! It’s not that I don’t want to go with you,” Mo quickly said. “It’s just that I’m not really in the mood. And no matter what you say, I look terrible right now. Don’t try to deny it.”
“Well, I want to spend some time with you. Do you want to do something else?”
“Sure.”
“You owe me a visit to the lake,” Les said, wiggling her eyebrows.
The lake sounded wonderful. “I’ll change.”
“What you’re wearing is fine. I definitely have to change, though. So come on.” Les stood and pulled Mo up from the sofa.
“Mama!” Mo called when they stepped into the hall.
Mama walked down the hallway from the kitchen, three flowers in her left hand and pruning shears in her right. “What?”
“We’re going out. To sit by the lake.”
“You’re not going in those clothes, are you, Lesley?” Mama asked.
“I’m changing first.”
“Good. Say hello to your parents.”
“I will.”
“Mo, take your cloak. It might get chilly. And have a good time.”
“We will, Mama,” Mo said. “And thank you,” she added softly, reaching for her cloak.
Mama’s mouth turned up at the corners. She retraced her steps down the hallway.
As soon as Mo and Les stepped outside, Les put her arm around Mo’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “See? You fit perfectly.”
Mo slipped her arm around Les’s waist and squeezed her. If every moment was like this, she’d never doubt, never wonder, never question Les’s feelings. Maybe Mama was right. Maybe she shouldn’t worry so much about what might happen. Even if she and Les stayed loyal to each other, the Chosen Council would eventually break them up. So what was the point of worrying about how Les saw other girls, or about what other girls might do? The Chosen Council would ultimately decide who would be the most important girl in Les’s life, not Les, not her, and not other girls.
Yes, Mama was right. Mo leaned into Les and squeezed her again. She had no future with Les, so the best thing she could do was enjoy the time they did have together—at least until the next time a girl flirted with Les.