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Series One Side Story Different People Just inside the door of a glitzy little building in the heart of downtown Neopia Central, a series of curious transformations was taking place. Outside, a fresh snowfall had covered the street; the night sky was cloudy and starless, and people and pets were trudging through the drifts bundled in scarves and jackets. Once one of them walked through that door, though, the change began. Case in point: one James Kouryunno. At first hs blue scarf, chokato-colored hat, and burnt-brown jacket were all pulled tightly around him; he walked slowly, hands stuffed under his arms, shoulders hunched, shivering. But watch! He turns and enters the door of this building. The room just inside has dull lighting, and is full of racks stuffed with coats; they've filled up, and there are boxes hastily piled around them to hold more. James peels off his hat, mittens, coat; he sits down and pries off his boots. It's so warm that he's already sweating. A silver gelert with hot pink mascara and green lipstick comes to take James' things. To the bag she carries is added two sweaters; under them, the boy has on a surprisingly tight T-shirt. Slipping off his glasses, he tucks them into a pocket in his coat and deftly replaces them with a pair of contact lenses from a case in his jean pocket. When he stands up, it becomes obvious that they're a designer label.  When James leaves the coatroom for the one behind it, a huge space full of
brightly colored lights and loud music, he isn't even recognizable as the
skinny bespectacled bundle of insulation that walked in the first door. This
kid looks cool.So he could understand why the pretty brunette with oddly-colored pigtails didn't recognize him at first. He slipped over to the DJ and made a quick request, then strolled out onto the floor and tapped her on the shoulder. "Fancy meeting you here." Zoe's new magenta tank top, it had turned out, was a little skimpier than she'd expected. Not so much that she couldn't dance, but enough that at least eight guys had tried some really insipid pickup lines with her. So when another one tapped her on the shoulder, she took in the tight clothes and started mentally preparing a good put-down. Then, instead of a cheesy line, the guy asked, "Do you dye your pigtails?" It caught her off-guard, so her response was generic: "Gee, do ya think?" "No, no - I mean, do you ever dye them in different colors. Not just purple." Maybe this wasn't the setup for a bad joke after all. "Sure. When I started, I had 'em yellow. What's it to you?" "I think I like the purple best," replied the guy without missing a beat. (Literally: he was tapping his feet along with the new beat that had just kicked in.) Then she realized what song had started. "Tell me later," she ordered. "This one needs dancing to." Half turning, she caught the rhythm and swung her hips accordingly. "Couldn't agree more," replied her interlocuter, moving back into her field of vision - and suddenly the rhythm of his feet spread to his legs, creating a pattern as intricate as that of a good tapdance.  Undaunted, Zoe spread her hands together and began moving her arms in a swirl
of real and illusory motion, like a barbershop pole.She spend up her leg work, too, as he added a few arm gestures into the mix. Then, it being a Franz Fuzinand song, the beat changed halfway through. James was sure Zelda had said she didn't care for Franz Fuzinand, but she obviously liked this song. Her movements caught the beat, the counter-beats, and every nuance of the lyrics' rhythm. She had to know this song as well as he himself did. Only his own familiarity with the song, though, kept James from losing the beat when she started doing that thing with her arms. He knew he'd only make a fool of himself if he tried to match it, so he just redoubled his footwork. His younger sister Ji had been forced into ballet classes when she was younger; in sympathy, he'd volunteered to go into tap-dancing classes. Now they were paying off. When the beat changed, he caught it effortlessly and redoubled the intricacy of his dancing to fit the new rhythm. She did the same - then leapt in the air and spun through a syncopation. Not to be outdone, James did a few spins on his own; then, on an impulse, caught her arm and spun her at a moment when her feet weren't touching the ground. To her credit, the shock only registered on her face for a split second - and she didn't stop dancing. After what seemed like a particularly slow eternity, the last chord of the song rang through the room. To Zoe it felt as though her feet were just touching the ground again. Then several uncomfortable realities hit her at once: her pounding heart, her strained lungs, and the suddenly-realized fact that she was sweating buckets. She fought to keep from reeling. Her unexpected parner was having similar trouble. Then, to her astonishment, someone thrust a cold Achyfi into her hand. A silver kougra was handing James a drink at the same time, and as his surroundings came back into focus he realized that they'd drawn a modest crowd. He thanked the kougra and gulped the drink gratefully, downing it all in one go. Just ice water. He would've liked it if somebody had dumped another glass over his head. Someone started clapping, and then, despite the loud Moehawk song that had begun, there was an audible shower of applause. Zoe was halfway through her Achyfi when a neomail landed on the top of the can. She glanced at it; the sender's username told her all she had to know. "Gotta go," she said to the admirers in general and her fellow dancer in particular. "Later!" As she headed out, he called after her: "Same time next week?" "It's a date!" she replied, without looking back. |