Wynezra and I proceeded to move like we belonged to the light and thunder—jumping up and down, headbanging like Andrew W.K., taking turns clumsily twirling each other, etc. Our general strategy was to “move a lot”—to expend every ounce of energy afforded to our mortal vessels. To move until we died, or Pat Benatar stopped singing—whichever came first.

When the crowd around us realized the staggering extent of our dancing inability—surpassed only by the deficit of fucks we had to give—the circle broke apart, disinterested and slightly annoyed.

But we kept dancing. Coalescing.

For three minutes and forty seconds, at least, until the song ended in a fade-out. We barely had a moment to stop when Wynonna leaned forward and hugged me. It wasn’t a brief hug. She just hugged me and didn’t let go.

She didn’t say anything. I didn’t say anything. We didn’t need to.

We both just knew.

THIRTY

AFTER MY DANCE WITH Wynonna, Holden gave me a high five and praised me for my “sick moves,” which was such a lie. Wynonna hugged me again. And then the next slow song started, and they were pulled into its current, lulled away.

I wandered off as well, in a sort of dreamlike haze. Out of the gymnasium. Out of the building. I sat on the curb, leaned back, and looked at the stars—crystalline, sparkling against the black tarp of the sky.

I wondered how much of me was up there. How many times I had disintegrated, dissolved into that infinite sea, become one with something so much bigger than myself.

How many times had it saved me?

“Hey,” said a voice.

I arched my head back all the way. Imogen was looking down on me, upside down, but otherwise perfect.

Then the blood started rushing to my head, and things got a little woozy.

“Ugh,” I said, lurching forward. I mumbled a feeble “Sorry. Hey.”

Imogen sat down beside me on the curb. Her long legs curled to the side, knees pointing at me, toes pointing away.

“You kinda left me in there,” she said.

“Sorry,” I said, again. “I just didn’t wanna crowd you and Kimiko.”

“You do realize,” she said, “that I asked you to prom. Not Kimiko.”

“I know, I just… I saw the way you were looking at her, and—”

“Ezra…”

“And I want you to have what you want, not what I want, because you deserve that, and I don’t want to just guilt you into dating me, just because everyone knows I’ve had a crush on you since the dawn of time—”

“Ezra—”