The Balcony

Music from the Night World

At the prom...

The new guy held her very lightly. Jenny floated in his arms and let her mind drift back to junior prom. She had worn ivory lace, soft and romantic and old-fashioned, the kind Tom liked. Audrey had worn a different classic black dress. Summer had been in pale aquamarine, with fringe all over, like a flapper. Tom had looked wonderful in severe black and white. Afterward, they'd all gone to McDonald's in their fancy clothes, laughing and fooling around. It had been a wonderful night because they'd been together.

Now here she was in fairyland, surrounded by strangers.

That thought was a little disturbing.

She and the new guy had swayed a little away from the other dancers. He actually seemed to know something about dancing, or at least he was semi-mobile. It was darker here near the balcony. Jenny felt strangely isolated.

And -- it was curious, but everything seemed to have slowed. The music had changed. The band seemed to have segued into another slow dance, a haunting melody by some female vocalist Jenny knew but couldn't quite put her finger on at the moment. Otherworldly. Weird of them to do that without giving people a chance to change partners.

Weird melody, too, but beautiful. It was music that got into your blood, that made you feel strange.

Jenny was feeling very strange.

Time seemed to be stretching.

She didn't want to look up, because that was bad manners unless you wanted to be kissed. And Jenny didn't, whatever kind of music it was. Safer just to keep her head down.

They were on the threshold of the balcony now, and Jenny could look out over the ocean. It was even darker here, so you could see the ocean below. Spotlights reflected off the water, looking like a handful of moons.

Oddly, there was no one on the balcony. Jenny would have thought it would have been crammed body-to-body, but there was nobody here--or at least nobody she could see in the dark. Her partner was leading toward the darkest corner.

I shouldn't go -- Oh, God I'm going to have to say Vada via, cretino again...

But she couldn't seem to resist.

Here on the balcony she could feel the night air, just faintly cool on her arms and the back of her neck. The music seemed distant. She could no longer make out words, only single notes, pure and clear as drops of water falling into a still pool. Falling slowly. Jenny had the queer feeling that she herself was falling...

--from The Forbidden Game: The Chase by L.J. Smith

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