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the trash.

“You’re going to love this.” I handed Izzy one of the rags. “I spray, and then you rub the rag in circles on the spot where I’ve sprayed. The table will shine and it will smell so good, you’ll want to lick it.”

“Can I?”

“What?”

“Lick it. Can I lick the table after I wipe it?”

“No. It’s probably poisonous.”

Izzy’s eyes popped wide. “Do you think the witch wants to poison us?”

“No. I bought the Pledge, not the witch. And I think the witch is good. She put the cherries in the fridge.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Izzy squinted, then started growl-yelling the chorus of the slow song.

I waited for the chorus to end and then sprayed. Izzy climbed onto a chair, leaned over the table, and wiped. I sprayed anew spot. Izzy lifted her knee high, as if she were crossing a stream rock to rock, and stepped onto the next chair. She wiped.I sprayed; she moved down to another chair and wiped again. In this way, we circled the table, with Izzy singing and me hummingthe whole way. We were just at the end of the table, or at the beginning—we were where we’d begun—when Jimmy and Dr. Conewalked in.

My hands started shaking. I worried that Jimmy would be angry that we were listening to his record. But he just smiled, and then he took a step toward me, took the Pledge from my grip, placed it on the table, and started dancing with me while singing along with his own record. Izzy clapped and screamed and jumped into her dad’s arms. He, too, sang, Izzy hanging on his chest as they danced. Jimmy held my hands and pulled me toward him, and then away, and then around. At the last line, Jimmy dipped me down and hovered over me. I’d taken lots of ballet and could easily arch so I was like a lowercase letter h one foot on the ground, the other kicked in the air. I could smell the sugary treats and coffee on Jimmy’s breath. I couldsmell his skin, both sweet and musky, like something warm, maybe melted candle wax with wet autumn leaves. I had a strangeurge to bite into him. The words sex addict sex addict sex addict swirled like an eddy of letters in my brain.

When that song ended, a faster song came on. Dr. Cone, Jimmy, and Izzy started fast dancing as if it were no big deal. I stood,leaning forward as if I were about to take a step but couldn’t. I’d never danced to rock and roll before. I watched the others,my mouth open with a half-nervous, half-happy grin. Dr. Cone bounced up and down, his head hanging like a bird with a brokenneck, like when the Peanuts characters danced. Izzy flung her arms around and jumped as if she were trying to fly. Jimmy swayed his hips a little, forwardand back, as if he were dancing inside a phone booth. He never used both the top and bottom halves of his body at the sametime. Each movement was isolated, on beat, with the flow of the music. Izzy grabbed my hands and pulled me into the circleof the three of them.

“MARY JANE, YOU HAVE TO DANCE WITH ME!” She shook my arms until I moved on the other side of them. I glanced over at Jimmyand tried to mirror him. He looked straight at me and nodded. When he moved more broadly, I moved more broadly. Izzy stillhad one of my hands and was as wild at the end of my arm as a scarf blowing off a neck. I followed the pace of Jimmy’s stepsand shoulder shakes. I sensed he was directing me with his eyes.

The longer I danced, the more I got used to Jimmy eye-directing me, the less I thought about dancing. And the less I thought about dancing, the more I danced. Eventually it felt right. Like it was something I already knew how to do that was coming back to me.

We kept on dancing as the next song came on. Izzy screamed at the opening chords and then started singing along, louder thanthe record. Jimmy laughed and then he sang too. Dr. Cone sang during the chorus. I figured out the words pretty quickly anddesperately wanted to sing at the chorus too, but I was afraid to sing aloud with a famous professional singer—the personon the record, no less!—within hearing distance. At the final chorus, Izzy put her face real close to mine and was holleringalong with the record. Right then, before I lost my courage, I started singing the harmony. Quietly at first, but then I wenta little louder, because I knew I had it right. When the chorus picked up, I went louder still, almost as loud as Izzy andJimmy. Finally I stopped dancing so I could really sing. I shut my eyes, let the words fly, and I heard my voice vibratingalong with Jimmy’s like intertwined electrical currents that were creating a stream of sparks.

The song ended and Dr. Cone and Izzy clapped. Jimmy nodded, smiling. He clapped his hands three times slowly and then said,“Well, fuck me, Mary Jane, you got some pipes on you!”

The fuck me part of that sentence caught in my brain like a piece of cotton in a briar patch. I finally said, “I sing at church,” butI don’t think anyone heard, as the next song was playing and Sheba and Mrs. Cone were dancing into the dining room. Shebawas blasting her voice so beautifully that I felt goose bumps from the roots of my hair all the way to my toes. Her voicewas pure and solid, and sounded like an instrument I’d never heard played before.

Jimmy snaked his arms around and danced over to Sheba. She did a circle in the streamers of his arms and then they went hip to hip. Sheba jumped into harmony while Jimmy stayed on melody. Izzy was still outsinging everyone volume-wise, and Mrs. Cone was singing along too. Everyone danced together in

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