Chaos Choreography
Page 94
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Malena sidled up to me as the cars pulled up to the curb. She was wearing more makeup than I was, and her lips were painted a bright, bloody red that lent her the air of a ticked-off warrior goddess, ready to bite the heads off anyone who annoyed her. She pushed herself between me and Anders, forcing him to let me go. I decided she was my favorite.
“I hate everyone,” she announced, sans preamble. “Can I ride with you? If I have to listen to Emily and Troy handicapping the remaining dancers for one more minute, I’m going to get myself disqualified.”
“There are only three people in your car now,” said Lyra, with all the tact and delicacy of a charging rhino. It made sense, after this morning. It was still a complication I didn’t need. “Why do you need to cram yourself into ours?”
“Because I asked nicely, and because I’d rather ride with my friends than with a bunch of jerks who insist on plotting out how, exactly, they can win their way to the finals,” Malena said. “It doesn’t help that Troy’s my partner, but cares more about exploring the magical promised land of Emily’s pants than about noticing when he’s making me uncomfortable. I’m riding with you guys.”
Lyra looked like she was going to protest again. All that was going to do was slow us down, and so I made an executive decision, stepping forward, pulling open the car door, and gesturing for Malena to get inside.
“I’ll ride in the middle,” I said, with more perkiness than I actually felt. “I needed a nap anyway, and I always fall asleep when I’m squished between two people in the backseat.”
“Middle child syndrome,” said Malena, and winked as she scooted into the car.
Lyra frowned. I grimaced apologetically and got in. Maybe this wasn’t the safest thing I could have done when she was already jealous of how much time I was spending with Malena, but I didn’t have time to screw around. I needed to get to the theater.
The theater. The more I woke up, the more I understood that Dominic and the mice had been there alone, all night long. There were no texts on my phone, and there had been no calls; they were probably fine. They were probably fine.
Maybe if I told myself that a sufficiently large number of times, I’d start believing it.
Lyra sulked for the whole drive, while Anders chattered at Pax about the surfing in Hawaii and whether or not Pax was hoping to be home in time for the big waves. Pax gave mild, noncommittal answers. I wondered whether either of them realized the other had effectively no interest in surfing. I didn’t feel like pointing it out. I was too busy resting my head on Malena’s shoulder—something she endured with stoic amusement—closing my eyes, and trying not to dwell on the worst-case scenarios at hand. There were so many ways things could have gone wrong once Dominic and the mice were alone. Maybe he hadn’t texted because he wasn’t there anymore. Maybe he and my grandmother had found the same shallow grave. Maybe—
“Val, I’m sorry to interrupt you while you’re drooling on my shoulder, but we’re here.” Malena’s words were accompanied by a hard poke in the arm before she brought her lips close to my ear and hissed, “Open your eyes, there’s something you need to see.”
I opened my eyes.
We’d pulled up to the back door of the theater, which was open and clogged with bodies as the remaining dancers forced their way inside. Pax was already out of the car, with Anders and Lyra close behind him. Apparently, remaining crammed in the car was not on their agenda for the day. I barely registered their absence. All my attention was on the dark-haired, exhausted-looking man standing off to one side and trying to look unobtrusive.
Dominic had acquired a clipboard and badge somewhere, which made my heart leap with something between pride and delight. He’d been paying attention when I talked about the way to integrate yourself into a setting. He looked like a stagehand, and unless he was giving orders or handing out coffee, none of the dancers were going to look at him twice.
“Don’t dawdle,” said Malena, holding the door for me as I got out of the car. “I can’t stop the assignments for you, and you know Adrian will notice if you’re late.”
“I got it,” I said, and launched myself at Dominic, wrapping my arms around him and hugging him as hard as I could. I didn’t care who saw us. Dancers loved to gossip, and if they wanted to add “is sleeping with a stagehand” to their collection of rumors about me, I had dealt with worse. Sometimes the worse had even been true.
Dominic waited until I let him go and pushed myself back before he said, in a soft voice, “We found many things, but nothing which will lead us immediately to our goal. The map is behind the wardrobe rack in the women’s dressing room. I’ve annotated it as best I could. The mice can tell you what was found in each area. They’re still searching, and may need you to help them update the map. There is one mouse in your makeup drawer. It has promised not to jump out and frighten anyone who doesn’t really, really deserve it.”
“I hate everyone,” she announced, sans preamble. “Can I ride with you? If I have to listen to Emily and Troy handicapping the remaining dancers for one more minute, I’m going to get myself disqualified.”
“There are only three people in your car now,” said Lyra, with all the tact and delicacy of a charging rhino. It made sense, after this morning. It was still a complication I didn’t need. “Why do you need to cram yourself into ours?”
“Because I asked nicely, and because I’d rather ride with my friends than with a bunch of jerks who insist on plotting out how, exactly, they can win their way to the finals,” Malena said. “It doesn’t help that Troy’s my partner, but cares more about exploring the magical promised land of Emily’s pants than about noticing when he’s making me uncomfortable. I’m riding with you guys.”
Lyra looked like she was going to protest again. All that was going to do was slow us down, and so I made an executive decision, stepping forward, pulling open the car door, and gesturing for Malena to get inside.
“I’ll ride in the middle,” I said, with more perkiness than I actually felt. “I needed a nap anyway, and I always fall asleep when I’m squished between two people in the backseat.”
“Middle child syndrome,” said Malena, and winked as she scooted into the car.
Lyra frowned. I grimaced apologetically and got in. Maybe this wasn’t the safest thing I could have done when she was already jealous of how much time I was spending with Malena, but I didn’t have time to screw around. I needed to get to the theater.
The theater. The more I woke up, the more I understood that Dominic and the mice had been there alone, all night long. There were no texts on my phone, and there had been no calls; they were probably fine. They were probably fine.
Maybe if I told myself that a sufficiently large number of times, I’d start believing it.
Lyra sulked for the whole drive, while Anders chattered at Pax about the surfing in Hawaii and whether or not Pax was hoping to be home in time for the big waves. Pax gave mild, noncommittal answers. I wondered whether either of them realized the other had effectively no interest in surfing. I didn’t feel like pointing it out. I was too busy resting my head on Malena’s shoulder—something she endured with stoic amusement—closing my eyes, and trying not to dwell on the worst-case scenarios at hand. There were so many ways things could have gone wrong once Dominic and the mice were alone. Maybe he hadn’t texted because he wasn’t there anymore. Maybe he and my grandmother had found the same shallow grave. Maybe—
“Val, I’m sorry to interrupt you while you’re drooling on my shoulder, but we’re here.” Malena’s words were accompanied by a hard poke in the arm before she brought her lips close to my ear and hissed, “Open your eyes, there’s something you need to see.”
I opened my eyes.
We’d pulled up to the back door of the theater, which was open and clogged with bodies as the remaining dancers forced their way inside. Pax was already out of the car, with Anders and Lyra close behind him. Apparently, remaining crammed in the car was not on their agenda for the day. I barely registered their absence. All my attention was on the dark-haired, exhausted-looking man standing off to one side and trying to look unobtrusive.
Dominic had acquired a clipboard and badge somewhere, which made my heart leap with something between pride and delight. He’d been paying attention when I talked about the way to integrate yourself into a setting. He looked like a stagehand, and unless he was giving orders or handing out coffee, none of the dancers were going to look at him twice.
“Don’t dawdle,” said Malena, holding the door for me as I got out of the car. “I can’t stop the assignments for you, and you know Adrian will notice if you’re late.”
“I got it,” I said, and launched myself at Dominic, wrapping my arms around him and hugging him as hard as I could. I didn’t care who saw us. Dancers loved to gossip, and if they wanted to add “is sleeping with a stagehand” to their collection of rumors about me, I had dealt with worse. Sometimes the worse had even been true.
Dominic waited until I let him go and pushed myself back before he said, in a soft voice, “We found many things, but nothing which will lead us immediately to our goal. The map is behind the wardrobe rack in the women’s dressing room. I’ve annotated it as best I could. The mice can tell you what was found in each area. They’re still searching, and may need you to help them update the map. There is one mouse in your makeup drawer. It has promised not to jump out and frighten anyone who doesn’t really, really deserve it.”
