Page 156 of The Vacation Mix-Up
She winks.
“After you’ve stepped back onto your front foot for the second time,” Michelle says, “you’ll start the sequence again byjumping and bringing your back foot to the front, to the same position we started in. So jump, hop, back-front, back-front, then jump, switch, hop, back-front, back-front, and so on.”
I’m so fucking confused. Jump. Hop. Leg up, leg down. Switch. Who invented this shit show? And to top it all off, I now have images of Riles in my head, seductively licking a goddamned banana.
I stop hippity-hopping and turn toward her. “What can you do with a bana?—”
“Don’t worry about that,” she says, turning me forward again. “Just keep going.”
Groaning, I slide my hands into my pockets and count to the beat. “You better show me this banana trick.”
She giggles. “I will! Now focus.”
Following Riles’s lead, I’m soon jigging like Leo. Sort of. Less Leo-ish and more Riley-ish—heavy-footed and uncoordinated.
“Brilliant, everyone!” Michelle shouts. “You’re all naturals.”
She’s lying; we’re not. There are at least three other unfortunate dudes worse than I am, one of them resembling an electrocuted donkey, his dance space much broader than what the woman I assaulted gave me. I feel sorry for him. Or more accurately, I share his pain.
“Now, to finish the dance, after the fourth hop back, we’re going to then hop onto our left foot and then rock onto our front, then back, and then front again. Like this.” Michelle demonstrates. “And that’s it!”
Blinking, I shake my head, once again lost.
“Are we ready?” Michelle claps above her head, eyes wide with anticipation. “Let’s give the full routine a try.”
Wait! What?
Riles and most of the others eagerly call out, “Yes!” but I know I’m going to fuck it up. It’s a foregone conclusion, like day and night, life and death… me and Riles. And if I’m going to look like a complete and utter fool, I might as well do it in style.Mystyle. The Riley-can’t-dance-for-shit style. At this point, I’ve got nothing to lose.
Sucking in a deep breath, I puff it out again as Michelle counts us in, and as if a herd of elephants is storming the ship, the atrium rumbles with our stomping feet, the thunderous noise attracting people to stop and watch from the decks above. They point and clap, cheering us along, no doubt grateful it’s us and not them.
Jolly music fills the atrium, and Paul bounces about like a frog, Riles deviating from the steps and performing her own fancy variations, my eyes glued to her spirited chest. It throws me off, and I fumble a step, completely mucking up the routine, my legs and arms flicking out like a circus clown.
“What wasthat?” Riles asks, bursting into laughter as she bends over and clutches her waist.
I keep going, wobbling my head like a dickhead and murdering the dance, my limbs flinging here, there, and everywhere, because I have no idea what part we’re up to or what I’m doing.
Standing straight again, Riles tries to continue but fails, her body bowing once more, her knees pressed together, tears streaming down her face. “Stop! I can’t. I’m gonna pee.”
I’m tempted to just give up, for her sake more than mine, but Riley Wilson, Lord of the flies… rings… dance… whatever, is not a quitter. I finish what I start, even this hippity-hoppity bullshit.
“Nearly there,” Michelle calls out. “One more time!”
Jumping a safe distance from Riles, just in case she does lose control of her bladder, I prepare for my finale, springing up like a spasming dolphin before spinning and dropping to one knee, arms out wide.
“Oh, my God!” She stumbles back, bends over, straightens, and then bends again, her entire body wracking with hysterics as she gasps for air. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I hang my head, mortified yet thrilled I can make her laughas much as she is, her damp eyes sparkling, her face overjoyed. It drowns my heart with happiness—a death I’ll gladly give it if this is the outcome. And despite the utter pile of dance dung I just performed, I can’t help but feel proud. I let go and danced like a freak… for Mom, Riles, and for me.
Stepping forward, she holds her hands out and tries to pull me up, but I finally burst into laughter and fall on my ass, taking her with me.
“You’re insane,” she chokes out, tumbling off my chest until we’re both flat on our backs, spectators still cheering several decks above. “Hilarious, but insane.”
I scrub my hands over my face. “I’m not even going to argue with that.”
“That’s because you can’t.”
“Well, tickle me pink,” Paul announces. “I think we have our winner.”
