Ethel 'n Opal

three

Big mistake. But there was no point in arguing after that.

 All the girls practice complex footwork my mind can't even begin to comprehend. 

"See, you're getting the hang of this."

All I did was hold onto her shoulders and try not to shake like a drowned rat.

Still, she manages to stand out among them all.

She springs into this back flip outside the pyramid they're in. That transitions into a handstand, which transitions into some rotation in the air, one...two...three times! I count. All to end up in a standing pose that she holds with a bright smile, chest heaving.

Holy...

The sheer athleticism and strength - my description doesn't even do her justice. So I stare, my eyes trailing from exposed tummy to soft thighs.

Allah save me from my indecent thoughts.

But man is she beautiful. Had the lighting been any better that night, I probably would've combust.

"You do this often?"

My eyes drink their fill although I probably shouldn't because it's likely that she'll catch me and murder me on the spot with a simple glare.

"You think I'm easy?"

It's funny really, the drastic change from the spontaneous, bubbly, soft person I danced with that night to the feisty, sharp-tongued, guarded person that dances a few yards from me.

"...you're not a stranger. I know you now...I know your body..."

Like a domino affect, the rest of the team mimics her actions, coming together to perform the final steps as one with a catchy chant. It isn't obvious at first glance, but when I look closer I catch when she shoves her pompoms purposefully into Tassie's face, who ironically stands right beside her. This messes Tassie up and when she turns to the culprit, the girl's already bolted, taking cover behind an angry, shouting coach G. 

I huff in amusement, witnessing the child-like glee on her face as I shake my head.

Yeah, she's rude, and I've come to terms with this based on our last encounter. In spite of the fact, that doesn't make her last comment hurt any less. But still, you'd think that people would know better than to place her anywhere near Tassie. 

"-pal?! Opal did you forget your cue?!" Flora's shrill voice surprises me and I almost drop the saxophone in my hands.

Finally my mind descends back down to earth, only to find that almost all my band mates are staring at me. Some frustrated, others sympathetic. All this attention causes me to fumble with the keys, praying that my cheeks cool before anyone notices I'm blushing.

"I-um...I was just tuning the keys. Sorry guys," The old woman taps her foot impatiently with a raised brow, and I can't help to notice how Flora's hunched figure is aged even more by this.

"Let's start again. From the top!"

Everyone groans and I flinch, guilty that I'm the reason our suffering is prolonged. Beside me, some poor freshman who I've come to know as Gerald sighs. I cringe, feeling even worse now because he's been standing out here for a good three hours like the rest of us. But worse, he's supporting a huge tuba half his small size. The sweat that drips down his puffy red cheeks is evident enough of his strain. 

And thanks to my lack of self control and inability to stop drooling, no one's going home any time soon.

So this time around I keep my eyes to myself. I listen for my cue, counting myself in as the drums start off, establishing a steady tempo. Then, its the trumpets and mellophones, harmonizing and complimenting each other with smooth bass and higher pitched notes they alternate back and forth with.