Frizzy haired and overweight, sixteen year old Elizabeth Summers hears ghosts. She also reads people's auras often seeing when something bad is headed their way. Unfortunately, she can't choose which ghosts visit her psychic hotline or when her para...
Union High's September Homecoming dance theme this year is famous couples in Hollywood. With that in mind, Dylan and I still have to decide who we want to dress as for the dance. I want to go as Rose and Jack from the Titanic, but Dylan wants to go as James Dean and Marilyn Monroe. In my opinion those two were too tragic to emulate. I shudder thinking how young they died. It's Thursday, two days before Homecoming, but I'm not worried about what I'm going to wear. I know I'm a terrible dancer, so I'm home getting a crash course on dancing from Julia.
Waltzing around the living room, Donna jumps into my mind seconds before I see her emerge from the cream colored wall. I hear her moans in my head. "I can't take this anymore!" Her throaty anguished voice reverberates in my mind.
"What?" I mentally ask her.
Your dancing. It's too painful to watch!
The music flips to another song as an invisible hand switches the player to a sensuous, grinding beat.
Julia, who's surprisingly into the pulsing, erotic music thinks I'm the one who switched the player. "That's a nice rhythmic beat, Lizzy."
She's oblivious to Donna's presence. I'm almost embarrassed as I watch Donna's ghost grind up against her with some playful pelvic thrusts. At that moment, I'm eternally thankful Julia's not psychic.
With Donna guiding my feet and limbs, I grow more relaxed with the dance moves. In fact, I start to feel as sure and light footed as a showgirl. Concentrating hard, I try to memorize the feel of the movements. At least now I feel I can move about the dance floor without tripping over my own feet. With my new confidence, I start to feel excited about the dance.
I bet Dylan's an awesome dancer. I can't wait for Saturday.
------------------------------------------------------- Meanwhile over at Connor's house....
"What's going on in here you two?"
Mr. Trent stands in the doorway observing Dylan and his son locked together in a slow dance. The low, crooning music in the background is setting the mood for them to make out. The two immediately break apart from their tangled dance stance. Fidgeting, they avoid looking at Connor's father.
"Hey dad. We were .." Connor starts mumbling an explanation, but his father has seen enough, and starts retreating from the man cave.
"Never mind." He grabs a beer out of the basement cooler. On his way out the door, he holds up his hand dismissing any proffered explanation. "I don't need to know, Connie!" He playfully exaggerates the feminine version of his son's name, his laughter trailing after him out the door. Connor looks so uncomfortable Dylan can barely contain his own mirth. After Mr. Trent retreats upstairs, Dylan breaks out into some lewd, awkward strip dance moves from Magic Mike.
"Yeah, that will definitely cause all the guys to trample Lizzy on their way to your dance card. Stop fooling around and come back over here. You're still stepping all over my feet! Now put your arms around me." Connor pulls Dylan's hips tight to his.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
As Dylan and Connor resume the dance lesson, gliding gracefully around the floor, Connor decides to share some friendly advice with his best friend. "Dylan, I think you should tell Lizzy about your desire to enter the police academy. If you really want to share your lives together, you need to be able to share your dreams."
Dylan dips his band mate, exclaiming in a high feminine voice, "Yes, fairy godmother."
