Forbidden Dance

The weather outside is frigid, matching my mood, as my stepmother Sadie runs a single manicured finger over the windowsill of my dorm room, lifting it to her face a moment later to inspect the dust that has settled on the tip of her perfect finger. She makes a face, shooting a glance over her shoulder at my father who has been standing awkwardly to the side as she tears apart every little thing about my room.

“It’s dirty,” she announces to no one in particular. My new roommate isn’t here yet, thank God, and I’m hoping she won’t show up until after my dad and step-monster finally leave me in peace.

“I don’t mind,” I say, trying to usher her along faster. “It just needs a little wipe down. I can do that.”

Sadie turns in my direction, her nostrils flaring like they do when she thinks I’ve said or done something stupid, which is almost always. “Your father and I aren’t paying for you to be here and clean,” she huffs. “That’s the school staff’s job.”

I bite my lip to keep myself from reminding her that whatever money is being paid into this institution for my schooling doesn’t come from her; not even a single drop of it. My father is funding this excursion, which is even worse because Sadie got to choose which college I enrolled in, and the only one I actually wanted, far away from her and far away from Seattle, wasn’t an option. But what Sadie says, goes. It’s been like that for years since my mother died and my father remarried a woman who, unbeknownst to me at the time, was his mistress.

Fucked up, right? Yeah, I think so too.

“I’d better get settled in,” I say to the room, hoping my dad will take the hint and guide Sadie out. I’m so tired of being under the scrutinizing gaze and thumb of my prude of a stepmother. Finally, I’m free, eighteen, and in college … and I still can’t get rid of her. Even now, sitting in my new dorm room, I’ve been forced to dress in what Sadie refers to as appropriate clothing. A knee-high skirt from the stone age, leggings so I don’t show too much skin, and a sweatshirt that makes my skin itch uncomfortably against the itchy fabric. Even now I can’t get rid of her influence.

“Honey, Faith is right,” my dad says, finally finding his balls to speak up. It’s rare, but it has happened before. “Let’s go and let her get settled in.”

As Sadie considers this, the front door opens, and a young woman who must be my assigned roommate poked her head in, flashing the three of us an awkward smile as she pulls a suitcase full of luggage in after her. I rise from the bed with a grin, holding out my hand, grateful for the distraction. Maybe now they’ll leave.

“Are you Tara?” I ask. “I’m Faith. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yes,” she’s beaming as she shakes my hand, and I’m silently filled with glee as I take in her ripped skinny jeans, tie-died tank top, black pixie cut, and nose and eyebrow piercing. This girl is the last sort of influence Sadie would have picked for my roommate, and that fact alone has me silently gloating. “Nice to meet you, too,” she says, and it’s impossible not to catch the way her eyes dart over my conservative, ridiculous outfit. Anything to appease the step-monster, I want to tell her. But we’ll get to that later.

“Darling,” my father says, trying to snag Sadie’s attention again. He’s bored, I can tell, and I don’t blame him. “Let’s leave the girls to get to know each other, shall we?”

Sadie tears her disapproving gaze away from Tara for a moment before she wheels on me again, hands poised on her hips like she’s preparing to scold a toddler. “Rules,” she says. “What are they?”

Heat rises to my neck and cheeks as anger boils in my chest, but I close my eyes and recite what she wants to hear. If I don’t, I’ll never hear the end of it, no matter how humiliating this is about to be.

“No drinking, no smoking, no parties, no boys,” I say, inwardly cringing as the words leave my mouth. From the corner of my eye, I see Tara’s jaw drop as she settles herself on the empty bed, but I can’t meet her gaze.

“And?” Sadie persists, her cold blue eyes boring into mine. As I meet her gaze again, my jaw locks, and I resist the urge to knock her flat on her ass.

“And no dance,” I mutter, dropping my gaze to the floor. I’m weak. I can never hold my own against her.

“That’s right,” Sadie says. “We’re paying a pretty penny for you to study economics at this school, and I refuse to sit by and watch you throw it all away for a chance to show off your half-naked body to a bunch of men.”

I grit my teeth without answering, wondering what Tara thinks of me now. With my luck, she’ll have requested a new roommate before Sadie even leaves campus.

“Time to go,” Dad says, crossing the room to give me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Call if you need anything, Faith.”

Yeah, right.

“Sure, Dad.”

“Behave,” Sadie says, not bothering to hug me goodbye as she follows my father to the door. Behind me, Tara waves cheerily at them.

“Nice to meet you,” she calls, but Sadie pretends like she’s heard nothing as she leaves the room, shutting the door forcefully behind her.

Finally, I can breathe.

A migraine is tugging at my skull as I turn around to look at Tara, embarrassed she’d heard the lecture. But she doesn’t look disgusted by me, not at all. She looks amused.

“Stepmom?” she asks as I cross the room and sit back down on the edge of the not-so-cozy bed. I don’t care that it’s not expensive or fancy. I’d sleep on a concrete floor before returning home and living under her roof.

“How did you know?” I ask, reaching for the outrageously tight clip in my hair to undo it, letting my golden blond curls escape from their prison and down my back.

“The dynamic between you two,” Tara says with a laugh. “The hate is real. She seems like a right bitch, that one.”

“She is.” I can’t defend her, not even a little. Sadie is beyond a bitch. Sadie is a fucking monster.

“You seem like a smart, well-rounded woman,” Tara continues, her bold brown eyes scanning me, sizing me up. “Why do you let her treat you like that?”

“It’s a long story,” I say with a sigh. “She might look like a bloodsucking demon from the outside, but on the inside, she’s so much worse. Trust me …you don’t want to tangle with her.”

Tara shrugs as she lifts her suitcase onto her empty bed and unzips it to begin unpacking. I watch her for a moment, smitten with this girl already. She’s unabashedly her, and I like that in a person. It’s been a long time since I could be unapologetically me, too.

As Tara unpacks, humming silently under her breath, I figured I should do the same. I unzip my bag and pull out all the shitty, conservative garments Sadie had bought and packed for me. More long skirts, more leggings to go under said skirts, and too many sweaters to count. As I’m folding these things and stuffing them into a tiny drawer on my side of the room, I notice that Tara is watching me.

“Is that all you have?” she asks. “Sweaters and pioneer skirts?”

I laugh, although it’s not funny, and shake my head. “The majority of it, yes,” I say, shoving a pair of stockings into the top drawer before slamming it shut. “But it’s not everything.” Nibbling my lip, I pull out the remainder of my clothes, the ones that had been safely hidden beneath Sadie’s mess of crap. A glittery, spaghetti strap top with the word Dance scrolled across the front, as well as a pair of fishnet stockings, frayed denim shorts that make my ass look good, and a pair of ballet flats that would have given Sadie a stroke if she’d seen them. As I drape my outfit over the bed, Tara’s eyes light up.

“Damn girl,” she says. “Maybe you’re not the lost cause I thought you were.”

“I haven’t always been like this,” I say, glancing down with disgust at my current outfit. “This is all Sadie’s doing. But …Sadie’s not here now, is she?”

Tara beams. I have a feeling I’ve made my first real friend here.

“No, she’s not,” she confirms. “So how about you throw that spicy little number on, and we can take a tour of the campus.”

I run a hand through my loose curls and lean into my suitcase for one last thing; a small bag of hidden makeup that Sadie never knew about. I hold it up and grin at Tara. “Give me five minutes.”

It takes me even less time than that, and I’m feeling so much better about today as I rake a hand through my blonde hair and then follow Tara out of our dorm room and toward the quad, where new freshmen orientation is taking place. Strangely enough, the vile weather seems to have vanished right alongside my evil stepmother, and I raise my face to the sky as the Washington sun peeks out from behind the clouds and basks us in warm light.

“This is so nice,” Tara remarks, taking a deep breath of the bitter air. “I love when the rain washes away all the pollution and junk in the air.”

“You’re in for a real treat, because it’s rainy here all the time,” I remark, unable to focus for too long on one single thing as we walk through the quad, glancing between the booths showing off their organized activities, sports, and clubs, encouraging new students to join. “Where are you from anyway? Are you a Seattle native?”

“New York,” Tara says, and this hardly surprises me. I can see it in her; she’s got that hood rat kind of vibe going on, but only in the best way possible. I could guess she lived close to, if not inside, the city.

“New York,” I muse. “That was my first pick for school, actually.”

“Was it?” Tara glances briefly at me, her silver nose ring catching the sun briefly. “What school?”