They ended with her jumping into Stephen's arms and him carrying her offstage. The applause was immediate this time with laughter mixed in; we'd needed something light after the sadness of the last number.
"Very Gene Kelly," Micah said.
I said, "I didn't even know Stephen could tap-dance."
Vivian said, "He learned for the show."
"Wow," I said, "that's quick."
Vivian smiled and a look of quiet pride crossed her face, the most positive emotion I'd seen on her face all night. Stephen and the senior girl were taking their bows, and he had a handful of roses from her bouquet. Vivian beamed up at him and you didn't have to know a thing about them to see that she loved him.
The stage cleared, the music changed, and this was the one that had made Jason nervous. He and the last senior were about to dance a number that he'd choreographed for them. He did a lot of the choreography at Guilty Pleasures, but he'd said, "It's not the same, Anita. Customers don't really care if we dance, not really, they want to see skin. This is different." I'd never seen him nervous like that about performing in public before. It had been both endearing and a little nervous-making.
I CAUGHT J.J. smiling and running her finger over his name where it was written in the program. It was a wistful smile, as if she were thinking of things that might have been.
She and Jason were both only twenty-three, but that smile was sad like doors had been closed, choices made, and no turning back. Or maybe I was being overly romantic. Nah, not me, not romantic. Every man in my life would say that wasn't my gig.
The ballerina entered to a dim stage at a run. She was dressed in a silky white nightgown, and her face, her body, everything telegraphed fear. But like in any good horror movie the scary thing is never behind you if that's where you're looking.
Jason jumped from the ceiling. I knew he had to have been on the catwalk, but it looked like he simply jumped from the sky and landed on feet and hands in front of her. Her scream as she turned and saw him cut through the sudden silence of the audience. There was still no music, as he stood, slowly, dressed in only close-fitting tights so that the muscles in his upper body writhed and molded as he came to his feet. His hair was loose, a fall of yellow around his shoulders, half hiding his face. He stood there muscled, beautiful, feral, and as she radiated fear, he gave off waves of predator.
The girl turned and ran. Jason was a blur of movement and was just suddenly in front of her. She gave another scream, but it was almost drowned by the gasp from the audience.
Music came up slowly, as she began to run around the stage and he was always there, always ahead of her. I knew he was a werewolf. I knew he could move faster than any human, but I'd never seen him do it, not Jason.
He always seemed more human than most, but on that stage, in this moment, he stopped pretending. He was a muscled blur, hair flying around him as he moved.
The girl fell to the middle of the stage at last. Her thin chest was rising and falling so hard I could see it. She held an arm out as if to ward him off, as he stalked around her.
I heard J.J.'s breath go out in a long shudder. I looked away from the stage to her for a moment. Her face was intent and raw with some emotion that I couldn't define.
Micah touched my hand and I looked back to find that Jason and the girl were dancing. It was as if he'd watched a cat play with a mouse and choreographed it, except that this cat was thinking more sex than food.
The girl played the virgin victim, slender arms rising and falling, hiding her face, her body leaning away, only to find his arm, his chest, his body there to catch and hold her, and then as the music grew she melded into his body and they danced. They danced, they moved, and he showed what his body was capable of and she held her own. There weren't many human dancers that could have kept up, and fewer still who were seniors in high school. I didn't have to know more about dance than I did to realize I was seeing something special, someone special. Hell, two someones. It was almost hard for me to watch and think, That's Jason, that's our Jason.
The music changed, subtly at first, and then it was Jason who was pulling away, the girl who was reaching out to him. I thought it was a seduction finished until I realized that Jason was running now and the girl was just suddenly there. It wasn't superhuman speed that put her always in front of him, but him looking back, him reluctant. They turned the seducer into the victim and gradually it was Jason who projected fear, and the girl who began to stalk him.
The music built and built as they danced around each other on the stage, and then he fell. It was one of those graceful falls where he caught himself, his hair trailing down so his face was completely hidden, and his strong muscled arm reached outward as if to ward off a blow, as she crept closer.
Her hand closed on his, and it was as if the world narrowed down to their fingers interlacing. He collapsed onto the stage, his arm at a harsh angle as she held his hand and turned to look out at the audience. Her face was clear and clean, eyes defiant, so straight, so tall, so in control with him crouched at her feet. She jerked on his arm as if pulling it behind his back, and he was on his knees, spine bowed as if in pain. She let go of his hand abruptly so that he half fell, and then she began to walk offstage. Two spotlights held on them as she moved away, the lights growing dimmer as she moved proud and brave. Jason collapsed in the light and began to weep, great, silent racking sobs that made his whole body rise and fall with it as her breath had at the beginning of the dance.
The lights were almost gray, almost out, as she stopped at the very edge of the stage to look back, and he came to his knees, one leg outstretched, one arm reaching out to her, the other arm across his face as if to hide his tears. There was a moment where they froze like that and the music stopped. The girl turned and left the stage, and Jason fell into a heap in the middle of it, and the light left.
The silence this time was longer, and I swear I heard several people inhale as if they'd been holding their breaths. Jason and the girl came to the center of the stage and took each other's hands still in silence, and it was only as they moved toward the front of the stage that the audience reacted. The crowd rose in a thunderous mass, calling "Bravo," and just screaming as if they were at a rock concert instead of a dance recital.
We clapped until our hands were sore. Micah hugged J.J. and I realized she was crying. I hugged her, too. Jean-Claude's arm went around my shoulders and I turned to find a kiss waiting for me. He spoke above the dying rumble of the crowd. "They are all growing up, our young men."
I could only nod. I'd known Jason and Nathaniel since they were nineteen, and the boys I'd met were not the men I'd seen tonight. I wasn't sure if growing up was the right term, maybe more growing into themselves.
Asher was already sitting down. I looked at him and saw the shine of pinkish tears on his face. I moved past Jean-Claude to lean over him. He wiped at the tears as if he didn't want me to see, but he took the kiss I offered, though his heart wasn't in it. I asked, "Are you all right?"
"I didn't know our little wolf could be that beautiful," he said.
"Me either," I said. But looking into his face I wasn't sure I meant the same thing he had meant. It was one of those moments when the same words can mean so many things. I knew I was missing something, but I was so puzzled I couldn't even figure out what questions to ask to get past Asher's mood. Something was up, something serious and emotional, and I didn't know what that something was.
The audience started moving toward the stage. The parents of the smallest dancers apparently could get their children directly from the stage. Monica came back to us with Matthew in her arms.