The Distance Between Us

take a deep breath.
    Two doors down from our doll store is a dance studio, and I’m surprised to see the lights all on this late at night. Wide-open windows on a dark night make everything inside as clear as on a movie screen. There is a girl inside, probably my age, dancing in front of a wall of mirrors. The graceful movements of her body prove she’s been studying for years. I wonder why some people seem to be born knowing what they want to do with their lives and others—mostly me—have no idea. I sigh and continue my walk to the club.
    Scream Shout is packed with locals tonight. I recognize some people from school and nod hello. The stage can barely be called that. It’s more like a rickety platform. Mismatched tables fill the area around it and a bar lines one wall. There are so many people I actually have to search out Skye.
    “Hey,” she says when I join her. Her hair is extra pink tonight, and I feel drab standing next to her.
    “Hi. It’s crowded tonight.”
    “I know. So cool. You must’ve made a good impression on Tic because he was just asking if I thought you’d show up.” She nods her head to a door off the side of the stage where I assume the band is getting ready.
    “Must we call him that?” I haven’t decided what my impression of Mason is. But it must’ve been something or I wouldn’t be standing here, giving up sleep.
    “Yes, we must, Caveman.”
    “Please. Not you, too, Die.”
    She laughs. “I know, they’re pretty awful, aren’t they? It makes me laugh when you call Henry Toad, though.”
    “How’s it going with Toad anyway?”
    “Pretty good.” Skye is extremely loyal. Henry would have to do something blatantly horrible for her to break up with him at this point. Not that he would. Aside from his heinous abuse of nicknames, Henry is decent.
    I look back at the stage, waiting for its occupants. “I’m guessing tonight you’re going to be madly in love with him because he’s about to go all rock star on you.”
    “For sure.” She smiles. “And you are about to fall madly in love with Tic because his voice is like honey.”
    She’s right. About the honey part at least. As he starts to sing I can’t take my eyes off him. His voice has a soft, raspy quality to it that makes me want to sway with the beat. When I hear Skye giggling beside me I’m finally pulled from the trance.
    “I told you,” she says when I look at her.
    “What? I was just listening. It’s rude not to listen.”
    She laughs again.
    When the last song is over Mason jumps off the stage and disappears into the back with the other guys. Henry comes out first, and he and Skye make out for a while right in front of me. Gross. Why do I suddenly wish I had someone to make out with? I’m good at being alone. I’ve pretty much mastered it. So what’s changed? Xander’s lip-biting smile flashes through my mind. No. I shake the image away.
    Just when I’m sure that if I take a saliva sample from Skye’s mouth it will come back with Henry’s DNA, I say, “Okay, enough.”
    Skye pulls away laughing and Henry pretends like he just realized I was standing there. Right.
    “S’up?” he says, then leans over to the bar and asks for some ice water. He takes it and we search for a table. There are no open ones so we just stand in the corner talking.
    Eventually Mason comes out and throws one arm around my neck. His T-shirt is sticky with sweat and almost reverses the effect his singing had on me. “Hey, Caymen, you came.”
    “Here I am.”
    “How’d we do tonight?”
    “Really good.”
    “Did you bring any old ladies with you?” He looks around like this is a valid possibility.
    “Almost, but she canceled on me last-minute. I guess some metal-head band was playing downtown tonight.”
    “Which band?” Henry asks, and Mason starts laughing.
    “It was a joke, idiot,” he says.
    “Don’t call me an idiot.”
    “Then don’t act like one.”
    Henry pouts, and Skye says, “You’re not an idiot, babe.” Then they start making out again. Ugh. Seriously.
    “Do you want something to drink?” Mason asks, leading me toward an abandoned table.
    “Yes, please.”
    I sit down and he comes back with two bottles of beer. He holds one out for me.
    I put up my hands. “Oh, I don’t drink. I’m seventeen.”
    “So? I’m nineteen.”
    “My mom says before I turn eighteen she still has the right to murder me.” My mom always tells me to blame it on her if I am ever in an uncomfortable