When Our Worlds Collide Read online

  Since I was old enough to realize how nerve wracking performing in front of people can be, I have my own routine before I stepped onto the stage.

  “Make sure to kick some ass out there,” she winks retreating out of the dressing room grinning at me. The doors barely closed before she pokes her head back in. “Oh and have some fun while you’re at it.”

  Once I’m alone, I climb on top of the vanity popping my ear buds in scanning through my playlist until I come across what I am looking for. It changes almost every time I perform. I was ten when I started this. Back then I was listening to N’Sync on my Discman. I turn the volume up until it hurts. 30 Seconds to Mars ‘Attack’ sings through my headphones and instinctively I start to relax. In these few moments before I hit the stage that’s exactly what I’m in great need of.

  Closing my eyes and listening to the music makes my muscles slink down. I know that I was born to dance. It’s a feeling I get deep down in my bones right before I hear the music start. I let every fear, insecurity fall to the side pushing back the butterflies that loom behind threatening to come forward. Meditation is the best way to describe it. I will continue to climb onto countertops and vanities until I can’t dance any longer.

  “Kennedy, you’re up,” William knocks thunderously, shouting his command through the door.

  I drop my iPod in my bag to swing open the door. He’s standing against the wall waiting. He’s clearly annoyed by how slow I’m moving. “I got sidetracked. Sorry.”

  “You’re fine. It’s a full house.” William ushers me towards the stage.

  Violet is right. William is adorable in that nerdy sort of way. He will more than likely go to college to become oddly good looking like most of the guys before him. They peek late, making up for it by the time they walk across the stage at college graduation.

  I stand between two curtains waiting for them to be drawn before I can take my place on the stage. The mahogany floor creaks as I step out from my hiding spot trying my best not to throw up as I see the lights darken above me. Standing in the dark I can hear the hushed whispers of the crowd. It only intensifies the butterflies that I thought had disappeared. The curtains begin to move and for a split second I think about bolting back to the dressing room to hide. Running off the stage seems like a better option than humiliation. The lights spiral on above me leaving me in a soft yellow glow.

  That’s when I see him.

  Without understanding why, my eyes are drawn to him. He is the only person in the room as I wait for the music to fade in. Graham’s sitting with the same guys that always seem to surround him in hopes of becoming a fraction of who he is. I don’t know any of their names. I don’t want to know their names. Right beside him is Amanda, his “girlfriend”. Well at least his girlfriend for the time being.

  Everyone knows his “relationships” don’t have a chance in H-E-double hockey sticks of surviving. At least none of his previous ones that I’ve had the pleasure of seeing in the hallway deteriorate for us all to see. It’s always in some public display of angst and teenage heartbreak. The girls cry begging him to not do “it”--whatever “it” is. Graham always seems distant and unaffected by their tears. He is cold and callous, unattached from everything around him.

  I suddenly feel vulnerable standing on the stage. I notice Graham looking up at me and that feeling intensifies only to disappear as quickly as it came. It just…fluttered away and now I can’t break my eyes away from him. He knows it too.

  Did he just wink at me?

  My body betrays me along with the heat that creeps up on my cheeks. The pink can be seen from outer space, I’m positive it’s to an embarrassing color by now. Just as the music starts to play through the auditorium I almost think I catch Graham leaning forward in his seat with a fascination in his eyes. There’s intrigue on his lips as they part watching me do what I love.

  Chapter Four

  -Graham-

  “I can’t believe we have to sit through a second act of this bullshit,” I yell down to Mark who is sitting on the opposite end of the aisle from me.

  Amanda convinced him to trade her seats. I was annoyed at first, but you don’t bite the hand that feeds you. Mark knew that the last thing I wanted was to have to entertain Amanda. That explains the shit eating grin he’s sporting. He knew the whole time what he was doing when he agreed to her commands. He figured better me than him. Asshole.

  Amanda smacks me on the arm. “It hasn’t been that bad,” she says defensively. I don’t know why she wanted to come in the first place. She usually hates these things. If she isn’t the center of attention that meant that she had zero interest.

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” I close my eyes slumping down in my seat. The lights in the auditorium lowered signaling that the second half was about to begin and hopefully would be over quicker than the first half.

  Mark wrinkled up the program that he was holding and threw it at me. “Kennedy Conrad’s up next. Don’t we have government with her?” he leans forward whispering. I sit up a little bit straighter at hearing her name. That’s confusing.

  “What’s she doing?” I asked to no one in particular before opening up the crinkled program and scanning down the list to find her name.

  Dance? Interesting.

  The red velvet curtains part and standing there in the dark I can see the silhouette of who I assume is Kennedy. She looks nervous even from where I am sitting. Somehow out of all of the people in the crowd she catches eyes with me once the lights slowly illuminate the stage.

  At first I think I am seeing things, maybe her parents are sitting directly behind me but recognition scans over her face. She is definitely looking at me. Her eyes are wide with surprise as if she is trying to work something out in her own head. I wink at her and I could have sworn I saw her blush from where I am sitting. Could she be anymore sweet and innocent?

  The music fades in throughout the room and the lights shine down brightly bathing her in a soft yellow glow. She’s wearing those black pants that I consider to be God’s gift to man. A black tank top that is covered in sequins allowing the top to stand out amongst the blackness of the rest of her outfit. Her feet are bare and her hair is in a loose braid with a few pieces coming free. Katy Perry’s E.T. plays through the sound system. A little more provocative than I would expect from someone like her, but a nice choice. It does its job and peaks my interest.

  Kennedy takes a deep breath in and exhales. I sit forward in my seat trying to get a better glance into what is about to happen on the stage in front of me. I find myself feeling intrigued by her once again as she begins to move her body across the stage. For a split second, I actually think it is someone else dancing in front of me.

  The way Kennedy is moving her body is intoxicating. With every move she makes, you can see everything she is feeling spilling out onto the stage. She leaves herself exposed. I know I am not the only one to notice. The entire room falls silent as she dances. There is a beauty in the way her body moves that you can’t look away from in fear of missing a single second.

  I am beginning to think that maybe I’ve been misjudging the type of person she is. Why doesn’t she walk through the hallways with the confidence that she bleeds out onto the stage? I have a feeling that she likes it that way. She likes going unnoticed. By the look on everyone’s face gazing up at her as she finishes and the music faded out, the shy girl isn’t going to be able to hide any longer. She officially has been labeled “noticed” by everyone, even me.

  Kennedy stands in the middle of the stage looking out at the audience that she has just left awestruck. Everyone stands up in appreciation. Her cheeks redden as she bends down to bow then exits off the side of the stage as quickly as possible not taking a second glance my way. I don’t understand why I feel disappointment to see her go. That’s a box I’m not willing to open.

  Mark catches my attention mouthing, “Damn”.

  “No shit,” I say a little too loud. Amanda catches on to our exchange.r />
  “It wasn’t that great,” Amanda rolls her eyes before grabbing for my hand to hold onto. The gesture feels territorial. I’ve never really been one to pepper my steak before I eat it, but if it makes it better for her then so-be it. I’ll play along for now. “We going to Craig’s after this?” she asks with her usual sex filled glint in her eye.

  “Yeah, but I’m not staying that long. I have some things to do tomorrow,” I lie. I don’t have anything planned for tomorrow. I’m just not in the mood to party all night again. More times than not it gets out of hand and I’m not in the mood to deal with all that bullshit tonight.

  “What do you have to do tomorrow?” Amanda is obviously annoyed that I have no intention of inviting her over to stay. That is our normal routine. She doesn’t like to feel rejected which is exactly where this is heading.

  “Just things with my mom…not that big of a deal,” I pull my hand away from hers. I don’t understand a girls need to hold hands. One or both hands end up sweaty. It’s gross and pointless.

  “Whatever,” she concedes slumping down in her chair like a child folding her arms over her chest. What am I even doing with this girl? Amanda annoys the shit out of me most of the time. On the other hand she’s always a sure thing. There’s no arguing with that logic.

  Amanda doesn’t speak to me through the rest of the talent show. Her silence is more of a gift than a punishment. The rest of the acts were mediocre at best. No one held a torch to Kennedy. There was something about her that’s hard to dismiss, difficult to forget.

  What the hell is wrong with me? I don’t even know this girl.

  Chapter Five

  -Kennedy-

  I walk off the stage trying to catch my breath. Shaking the thoughts from my head as I make my way back to my dressing room to gather up my clothes, I have no intentions of staying for the rest of the talent show. The last thing I want to deal with is everyone’s eyes on me. After all, they stood up and clapped. It’s the most attention any of them have given me since starting school freshman year. I start walking towards the back entrance that connects to the farthest parking lot. Against my better judgment, something stops me and I turn back around heading towards the auditorium.

  I quietly shut the door behind me not to interrupt the act that is on the stage performing. I instantly regret coming back in here as I make my way slowly down the aisle trying to blend in to the darkness as much as possible. Violet must have been waiting for me to come in. She waves me down to where she is seated. Although I love her, she is way too overzealous when it comes to things that embarrass me.

  I can’t just ignore her, so I close the gap between us in hopes of stopping her flailing arms. She sat in the middle aisle which means I will have no option but to walk right past Graham and his army of followers.

  “Kennedy, you did amazing. See, it wasn’t that bad,” Violet says loudly catching everyone’s attention which is exactly what I’m trying to avoid by my original plan to sit in the back unnoticed.

  “Thank you, but you don’t need to shout,” I force a smile at her as I slouch down in the worn out fabric covered seat.

  I don’t know why I do it. Something against my own will has me to look back over to where Graham is sitting. He is pulling his hand away from Amanda’s grasp. A part of me desperately wants him to notice me. He never did bother to turn towards me. I’m still going unnoticed. I’m not even sure why I care.

  The rest of the talent show doesn’t last much longer, thankfully. I’m ready to get out of here before anyone says anything to me.

  “You want to go to Craig’s with me tonight? Please, please, please,” Violet begs elbowing me in the side to grab my attention as I make my way up the aisle. I hate when she puts me on the spot like this.

  Amanda is directly behind us and overhears Violet’s question as we are making small steps to getting out of the crowded auditorium. “Kennedy’s not going to Craig’s. Why do you even bother asking? We all know it’s not her scene,” she snarls in my direction. Her voice is sharp as if she can’t be bothered with the idea of me showing up at someplace she intends on being. “Just because you can dance like a stripper doesn’t mean you’ll gain the attention of the guys around here.”

  It works for her. I don’t have the audacity to say that out loud, but it’s a thrilling thought.

  Graham slides past us trying to get to his friends when he stops dead in his tracks causing me to nearly collide into his back. He turns to face the three of us. I suck in my breath in surprise practically bouncing backwards to put some distance between us.

  “If they danced like you then I’d be spending my weekends at the strip clubs,” Graham winks at me (Again!) then turns to catch up with his friends. I can feel the heat creeping up my neck. Amanda groans under her breath in irritation at her boyfriend’s comment.

  I look over at Amanda wanting to say something, to stand up for myself. I choose not to. Graham handled it for me. She is right about me not fitting in with the rest of them. Drunk and stoned teenagers aren’t and will never be my scene. I am proud of that. I have nothing against people who think it is the only way to spend a Saturday night. It’s just not something that has ever intrigued me and Violet knows that. It doesn’t stop her from asking me every weekend. The answer is always the same.

  “Don’t listen to her. She’s a bitch and you don’t dance like a stripper. As for Graham’s comment, holy shit,” Violet squeals linking her arm through mine as we walk the rest of the way to our cars in the parking lot. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

  “Just be safe tonight and call me if you need a ride,” I remind her. I hate to think that Violet would be dumb enough to drink and drive, but things happen. Life happens.

  “That’s why I love you. Always taking care of my ass,” she says in her sweetest voice prancing off to her car.

  “I love you too.” I call out. With that, I am on my way back home to spend my weekend how I usually do when I’m not with Violet. Alone, and yes I know how pathetic it actually sounds to admit. I pull out of the parking lot and roll down my windows letting the cool wind run circles through my car.

  I turn my music up loud and for the first time tonight I feel relaxed. I had gotten through dancing in front of everyone from school without making a complete idiot of myself. That was my one and only goal for the night.

  It isn’t long until I am pulling into my driveway. We live only three miles down the road in a development that is fairly new, a few cul-de-sacs linked together by a few smaller streets. Outside of the neighborhood there are a few larger homes that look out of place amongst the rest of ours. I pull in to find both of my parent’s cars sitting in the driveway. They shouldn’t be home already. I nearly had to push them out the door earlier convincing them that they didn’t need to come watch me. It’s the anniversary for crying out loud and they’ve seen me dance almost every day since I was three. I think they could miss this one performance.

  As I stepped in the front door, I immediately understood why they were home before ten. They’re arguing. Shocker.

  It’s been the same argument for a while now. How are they going to continue to help my brother with school while sending me to Columbia at the same time? The odd thing about this argument is that I haven’t even been accepted yet, and they still insist on having this pointless fight. I’ve explained that I’m not against taking out student loans. They counter with the same argument every time--“We aren’t making your brother and we aren’t going to make you.” My hope is to go on scholarship, if I even get accepted.

  I went straight to my room. I don’t even think my parents noticed me sneaking by them. I pull on a pair of my most embarrassingly comfortable sweatpants and a hoodie after getting out of the shower and grab my book from the nightstand. I begin to read and before I know it, it’s already past midnight. My parents are now at the lower level of the argument, but no matter which way you turn it’s still an argument. I hate when they argue especially about something that is still out
of mine or anyone’s control.

  I try to continue to read, but it becomes impossible to drown out their words. I walk over to my window and slide it open just as I have for the past two years since we moved in. Whenever my parent’s fight, I have the urge to go for a walk. I did it one night after a really big one and it sort of became a habit. I never go too far in fear of upsetting them if they find my room empty. I just go far enough to clear my head of everything.

  My parents love each other more than two people should be capable of, so don’t get the wrong idea by the fighting. Like other couples that go through financial difficulties and have been together for as long as they have, they’re bound to pick a fight now and then. It’s always the same thing. They wake up in the morning and all’s forgiven and forgotten until the next time. I can only dream of finding a love like theirs.

  They met freshman year of college, both studying accounting. Of course, they have opposite ideas of how the night they met actually went. Mom claims that she didn’t want anything to do with my dad. Dad likes to remember that night with Mom plopping her butt on his lap begging for a ride home from a party. We’ll never know the truth. Watching them argue about it throughout the years made it painfully obvious how much they truly love each other. You can just see the pureness in their eyes when they look at each other remembering where their story began. Like I said, I can only dream of that type of love.

  It felt comforting being outside away from their growing voices inside the house though. The sky is clear making it hard to get my eyes off the stars as I walk down the dirt road. I can make out a few different constellations and even thought I seen a shooting star. I figured it was only my tired mind playing tricks on me. It’s quiet enough to block out their arguments, which is exactly what I need. The stillness allows me to clear my mind, to let it all go blank when I find it hardest to find some form of peace.