The Dancers This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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   I cannot believe I have actually lost my keys! When I pulled up to the driveway, I could have sworn I had them.

I stopped the car, noticing that the brakes squeaked a little. I opened the sunroof with the little black button that worked like a seesaw. In a sigh of anxiety and frustration, I jerked my head back and looked up at the sky, ready to curse God for this misfortune. To add to the problem I faced of not being able to enter my home, the sky was churling gray, mustard-lined clouds. The air became mild and I could feel the humidity forming a film of heavy water vapor on my skin. I sat in my car ready to slap myself...

"Wait, Jane and Michael have the keys!"

I quickly pulled back the small plastic lever on the side of the door that allowed me to exit the car. I stood up on the sweating pavement and felt the cool air from the air conditioner escape through the door. As I closed the red metal door, it felt hot to the touch. I looked over to my neighbors' house between the pink rose bush and the evergreen tree. I walked toward the house on the driveway, hearing the clack of my heels with every step. I plodded through the neighbors' yard where my heels dug slightly into the soil and flattened the flourishing green grass. When I reached the front door and rang the bell by pressing the gold button under the numbers "3" and an upside-down "5," no one answered the almost muted buzzing sound. I walked around the side of the house becoming somewhat more nervous as I heard the clap of thunder which seemed to shake the sky. I came upon the French glass doors in back of the brick house and almost plastered my face and hands to the clear panes, feeling my nose press against the sticky glass.

The room was a cave of darkness, but I could hear the sweet sound of a soothing classical work through the thin glass. Debussy, I think it was. No wonder they didn't hear the dull doorbell. To my surprise, the room was dimly lighted. It seemed to have a golden glow, and through one of the doorways on the opposite side of the room, Jane leaped through and landed on one knee. She was dressed in a pale pink leotard that fit her body so well the curves of her firm muscles were clearly defined. Her blond hair was combed back and pulled tightly in a nest atop her head. Her face was skinny and her body long and toned. She waved her hand downward and Michael glided toward her as if coming from nowhere and joined hands with her. He was also dressed in a leotard of light blue that matched the color of his eyes. His muscles looked strong and brought out the shape of his masculinity. He looked down, she glanced up toward him. Their eyes met for an instant and they began a dance, keeping perfect time with the music. Each move they made was mirrored in the waxed floor that had an aura of a shallow pond. Their movements imitated graceful white doves flying in the cool winds of a summer morning. They made the music seem as if it was written for their dance and only their dance. She twirled softly making the delicate material draped on her slim waist lift gently and flow with the slight breeze made by his gentle leap to her right. They seemed more like shadows dancing from the light of a flame. For the moment I thought they were porcelain antique dolls, breakable by any wrong move, tormented by perfection and exactness. I wanted to knock on the window pane, but how could I?

She took three steps toward the left with her long feet pointing inward. He followed her with great panache. He held her by the waist and seemingly effortlessly, with his flexed muscles, elevated her above his head and sauntered with elegance across the floor. He then smoothly placed her on the floor where she crouched into a shy ball. He placed his head on her back and loosely wrapped his arms around her looking exhausted.

For the first time in thirty minutes, I felt ice drops beating down my head and shoulders. My blouse was drenched and my hair soaking wet. I felt the thin yellow material cling to my skin and adhere to my body like leeches. Any other time I would have declared this extremely uncomfortable, but this time I did not care. I could feel the droplets of hard freezing rain run slowly down the top of my head and form a stream behind my left ear. The water also washed over my face, but the rushes of warm salty tears made my cheeks sting.

Michael saw me out of the corner of his eye. They scuffled over to the doors and quickly let me in the house. Jane showed me into the kitchen and sat me down in a wooden chair under the cuckoo clock. Michael offered me a fluffy towel still warm from the dryer and a hot cup of tea that was scented with lemon, but tasted of sweet sugar.

"How long were you out there?" Jane asked.

"Only two minutes. I got caught in the storm and came around the house after neither of you answered the door," I said in a meek voice.

They went on to apologize and searched the kitchen cabinet for the keys to my house. In a matter of minutes, I was out the door apologizing for the disturbance I caused and saying "Thank you" so many times that I lost count. I ran to my house, jiggled the key into the lock, and closed the door behind me.

I caught a cold, but for some reason it really did not make a difference. n


This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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