performance before he told her goodbye. He was in a rush; time with Lisette had become an urgent thing, and the ring was all he could think of lately. Like money, it was burning a hole in his pocket. I told him he was a fool in love. But what the hell did I know? He was certain they were meant to be because their names ended the same, which made me laugh soundlessly, the heat from my breath producing a cloud of smoke in the sharp night air.
Elliott turned and left, eager to get back to his car. He was the designated driver for the night. Scarlett went up on her toes, about to pick up her dance again, but as soon as she did, she came down abruptly, in a way that seemed almost painful. The gift fell from her hand, bouncing away from her for such a solid package. Her face went pale.
I took a step closer to the window just as Elliott came out of the dance studio. He knocked me on the shoulder, motioning to his car. Nick, another one of our friends, had been waiting in the passenger seat, the music steadily bumping while he howled out the window. Elliott smiled, motioning for me to get in the car again. So fucking eager. There was no rush. He had all night. He had the rest of his life.
I looked in at Scarlett again. She stood solid, not moving. The girls around her had started to clump together, whispering. Her dance teacher had moved to the opposite side of the room, talking to another woman, who I assumed to be another teacher.
There were times when I would forget the signs to communicate with Elliott. In those times, I usually pointed and spoke to make my point. Elliott understood me because we had been at it since we were kids, and he was an excellent lip reader, so we had a good relationship despite my lack. I never forgot the meaning of the signs, though, only how to use my fingers.
I pointed to my feet and mouthed, “Go on without me, Maestro.” I called him Maestro because of his obsessive love of music. He enjoyed the beat of it.
He narrowed his eyes as a puff of breath came out of his mouth. He lifted his fingers and moved them quickly. You’re not coming?
I shook my head, “Nah.” The words came despite the fact that he couldn’t hear them. He was excellent with nuances of the face and body.
“Come on, Fausti!” Nick called. “It’s freezing out.”
“Nah, dude, ya’ll go ahead.” I turned just before Scarlett came flying out of the dance studio.
“Elliott!” Scarlett gasped, propelling herself at him. She hit him with such an intensity that he rocketed backward, almost bringing them both to the cement. She clawed at his jacket, sobbing.
He motioned as fast as his fingers would allow, begging her to tell him what had happened. “Is it mom?” he managed to get out. “Dad?”
“No, no, no!” she sobbed, close to screaming. “It’s you!” She shook his jacket, pulling him forward. “Don’t leave! Stay here with me! Please!”
Nick stuck his head out again, went to say something else, but stopped when he took notice of the scene. “Shit.” He blew out a puff of cold air and rolled up the window.
Elliott patted his little sister on the head, bringer her closer. She kept a death grip on his jacket, her knuckles turning white, while the rest of her trembled. She had rushed out without a coat, without anything but her dance clothes: a thin, long-sleeve top, a frilly bottom, stockings, and ballet slippers.
One thing in her favor, though—she was damn good at holding on, despite the chill.
Snow came down in earnest now, sticking to grass and cement. The wind picked up speed, and for a moment, they seemed lost in the embrace. I didn’t realize Elliott had turned his gaze on me until I felt the weight of his stare. His eyes were wide, and his hands came up behind her back in a “help me” gesture.
I shrugged, settling my hands deeper into my jacket. I doubted Scarlett had even noticed me. Hidden deep in the shadows, I had become just another part of the night.
Scarlett pushed back from his chest, keeping a tight grip on his collar. “Listen to me, Elliott.” She shook him a bit. “You have to listen to me! You have to stay here with me until mom picks me up.”