Iíve known her for a while but weíve
never hung out.
She, a crazy extroverted ministerís
daughter whose rebellious escapades introduced me to a whole
new world; I, a sheltered good girl who could only wish to
have those kinds of experiences.
We didnít match.
She didnít care about school. I did. She
listened to rap and hip-hop. I, to rock. She could dance. I,
well, look like a stumbling elephant when I do.
A group of us went out to a late night
fiesta a couple of weeks ago. Since it was raining, and no
one wanted to drive, all of us packed into two cars. The
fast reggaetŘn music was pounding, the raining was drumming,
and inside the car, all of us were laughing as the boys
zig-zagged down Westheimerís racing each other.
She started to dance. Bobbing her head,
shaking her chest, and just moving to the music. I was next
to her, feeling a little awkward for my stiffness. But I
didnít want to move either, for fear that I would look silly
in front of the group of guys.
So I ended up watching how naturally she
moved to the beat and feeling the pulse of music in my
heart. When we got there, both of us went to the restroom.
While checking out our images in the bathroom mirror, I
asked her if she took dance lessons.
She didnít. But she was in a hip-hop
dance group and just liked to have fun. I told her I was
embarrassed by my own awkward dancing and she laughed.
ďAll you gotta do is feel the rhythm and
just let go.Ē
I asked her how she could dance to any
kind of music, and she replied that she didnít know. Then,
she thrusted her body back and forth imitating hip-hop,
swung her hips around doing salsa, and pinched her nose and
shimmied down, reminiscent of the good olí Oldies.
I laughed, and we went out.
The party was great. We stuffed ourselves
full of fajitas, and the legal guys got tipsy over
margaritas. There was music playing and after about three
hours, she and I went out to get some fresh air.
It was still drizzling and biting cold as
we put on our hoodies and laughed at each otherís
wind-bitten cheeks. We talked about her family, her friends,
mine, and how we needed to hang out more.
It was funny, despite our differences, I
had a great connection with her. Sheís one of those fun,
carefree and confident girls whom everyone liked and wanted
to know. As we laughed about our mutual friends and past
secrets, I felt freer. I let my guard down, and just
abandoned myself to the music, the party, the dance.
On our way home, the guys took the long
route to prolong the drive. Everyone was tired, tipsy, and
content. The music was still booming and the rain thudded
against the windows. She bobbed her head to the beat, and
after a few seconds, I did too. The guys laughed and
It was one of the greatest drives back
home. Past midnight, six of us squeezed into a car, music
pounding along with the rain, and for a full thirty minutes,
none of us said a word except to slur lyrics to the song.