to the washroom or something. She disappeared in a cloud of Exclamation! perfume.
âIâm drunk. Iâm very, very drunk,â he said, sadly wagging his head. âButââhe lifted his hand, pointed a finger at Alexâânot so drunk that I canât ask âer for a dance. Okay, Alex? âKay?â Right in her face.
She wanted to escape. She wanted to leave. To hide.
A hand on her bare shoulder. She turned to see Peter, resplendent in a T-shirt emblazoned with a thunderbird, black tuxedo pants and cummerbund, a black opera cape. He opened up his arms. âDance with me, darling.â
She laughed but felt like crying. She stood, wobbling slightly in her satin heels. He led her onto the dance floor, where he promptly lost all his bravado. He put his head on her shoulder and confessed, âItâs this night. I donât know. I felt so good. And now I feel like crap. Know what I mean? Nothing feels real.â
The music man started up with âStairway to Heaven.â She swayed with Peter, in one spot, until the lights came on again.
Later, when Serena came back to her place, trailing a peach satin jacket, the morning light beginning to pierce its way past post-graduation-dance fog, they collapsed on Alexâs bed, a bag of taco chips between them and a carton of milk that Alex had hauled out of the kitchen downstairs.
âYou never tell me whatâs going on in your head. Not really,â said Serena. She had found a half-eaten package of M&Mâs at the bottom of her purse and socked back a handful, munched thoughtfully, shoved her hand back into the taco bag.
âWhy are you telling me this?â said Alex.
âI always have to guess.â Serena turned her head on the pillow. âDonât tell me you enjoyed yourself tonight.â
Alex remembered the way Peter clung to her on the dance floor. And how Serena, sitting at the table, had watched them, straight shouldered, with an excruciating unveiled longing.
She wished that he were here now, not Serena. To have his lone-wolf heart right here, beating beside her own, that would be comfort enough.
âYouâre such a good friend to me,â continued Serena sadly. âYou put up with all my crap. And I always end up disappointing you.â
Alex shivered, sank down under her quilt.
âLike Iâm looking at you dancing with Peter tonight. And Iâm thinkingâI donât know what made me think itâbut I started thinking about your grandpa. About how he was such a pal. Always around. Like the best dad. Know what I mean? Steady as a rock. You were so lucky to have himâeven if it was only for part of your life.â
âDonât letâs talk about this right now. Okay?â Hot tears began to pool in her eyes. She blinked them away. Reaching over, she took Serenaâs hand and held on tightly to this friend from her childhood days. She felt as if she were sinking. As if she could disappear altogether. And no one would be able to find her again.
âAlex,â said Serena as they both blinked up at the ceiling, âI have to say something. Iâm sorry I ran outon you. You know, with Peter. That I sort of abandoned you. Again. Like, it was all just so stupid. I donât know if I will ever forgive myself for doing that. But, you know, and this is the truth, sometimes you make people feel so lonely.â
Two nights later, she had another dream. In this one she is sitting in front of a large slate-colored rock. Itâs drum shaped, about three feet in circumference. She and Grandpa and Old Raven Man are all around it, beating it, trying to make its voice come alive. Itâs a frightening ceremony. She feels her own voice rise in song. It comes from a deep and primal place. As the song rips up toward the sky, the rock begins to pulse with life. And its life is huge, as if it is waking up from a century-long sleep. She is awestruck that a rock can be