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Show Why We Cry Butch and Fenn Stories 153 But mostly it has been couples dancing, doing the Twist and the Hop and a little of the Pony and once Linda and Carol led four other girls in the Stroll, which looked real smooth and ancient, like a dance they'd known forever. I thought: how do they know how to do these things? And now, I stand with Linda Aikens, one arm on her hip, the other in her hand, as the next record drops. I look over at Keith and he smiles at me. He's a kid just happy to be playing records. He hasn't had to drop any pamphlets in the river or have his friends ask if he jacks off. The song is "Earth Angel" and as it starts, I commence the two-step as taught by Mr. Donaldson, but instead of it becoming the stepping and steering activity I'd known last year, this dance changes. First, Linda's head collapses against my chin. For a minute I think I might have to carry her to a chair. But no, she's moving, she's all right, she's just moving slowly in microscopic shuffle steps. I can do this. I can do this. I think: I can do this. For a while I concentrate hard on not kicking her over as I stare out on the lawn where my half bottle of creme soda stands alone. Then, without trying, I've got it. Linda's forehead, the very start of her part, is against the corner of my mouth, and though I try to stand up straight, I soon find my head against her head that way as we dance. It is the easiest thing I have ever done. As the song ends, I peel my face from Linda's forehead; sweat has stuck us together. Linda says, "Just a minute," to me and goes over to give Keith some help. While I'm standing |