Rum Spring by Yolanda Wallace

she wasn’t her usual good-natured self. Darkness hovered over her like a storm cloud. Rebecca prayed the storm wasn’t about to unleash its fury. She didn’t like seeing Dylan unhappy, especially when she suspected she was the cause of that unhappiness.
    Rebecca pulled Dylan aside while Mr. and Mrs. Mahoney talked to some people they knew. “What can I do to fix it?”
    “Fix what?”
    “Whatever’s wrong.”
    “Nothing’s wrong.”
    “Talk to me, Dylan.”
    “What do you want me to say?”
    “Whatever’s on your mind.”
    “You don’t want to hear what’s on my mind,” Dylan said after a moment’s pause.
    “Yes, I do. Please tell me what’s bothering you.”
    “I’m just worried, that’s all.”
    “About what?”
    “I’m going to be graduating next year, which means I’ll have to leave you. I don’t want to go somewhere you’re not going to be.”
    “But you have to. I know how important your education is to you.”
    “You’re important to me, too. Aren’t you going to miss me, even a little?”
    “Of course I will. I’ll think of you every day.”
    “I don’t want to be thought of. I want to be loved. If you can’t do that, please let me know and I’ll find someone who can.”
    Dylan watched Rebecca’s face fall. She wanted to kick herself for taking her frustrations out on Rebecca, but the targets that were easiest to hit were usually the most convenient—and the most inopportune.
    “Don’t mind me. You’re right. I’m not myself today, but there’s no excuse for what I said to you. I’m sorry.”
    “Don’t apologize for being right. You deserve someone who can love you as much as you love… her.”
    When Rebecca stumbled over the word, Dylan realized she had been deluding herself for the past two years. She and Rebecca weren’t having some kind of storybook romance. She had a crush on a straight girl who could never reciprocate her feelings.
    Dylan flinched when her father clapped her on the back.
    “Call me crazy, but I feel like dancing. Who’s with me?”
    “I never learned how,” Rebecca said.
    “We can show you a couple of moves,” her mother said. “I’m sure Dylan would love to be your instructor. Wouldn’t you, honey?”
    Dylan forced her mouth to curve into a smile. “I can’t wait.”
    Mr. and Mrs. Mahoney moved the furniture in the living room aside to form a makeshift dance floor.
    “What should we start with?” Mrs. Mahoney asked.
    “How about something classic like the Twist?” Mr. Mahoney stood on the balls of his feet and twisted them into the carpet as if he were trying to squash an insect.
    “How about something she could actually use one day?” Dylan said.
    “So I guess that means the Charleston’s out, too?” Mrs. Mahoney wagged her index finger in the air while she gyrated through what Rebecca assumed was once a popular dance.
    Mr. Mahoney snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it.”
    “Should I be afraid?” Dylan asked.
    Rebecca couldn’t tell if Dylan was really getting into the spirit of the evening or if she was only pretending to in order to please everyone else.
    “You should be very afraid.”
    Mr. Mahoney searched through the collection of CDs until he found the one he wanted. He took the disc out of its case and put it in the player. Dylan groaned when music began blasting out of the speakers.
    “You can’t go wrong with the Chicken Dance. It’s a staple at wedding receptions everywhere.”
    Rebecca tried to follow along as Mr. Mahoney demonstrated the dance. She felt ridiculous mimicking his actions, but the way everyone was laughing, maybe that was how she was supposed to feel.
    The waltz was next.
    Mr. and Mrs. Mahoney held each other close as they glided around the room.
    “I’ll never be able to do that.”
    “You never know until you try.” Dylan held out her hand. “Do you want to try?”
    “Yes, I do.”
    Rebecca tried to mirror Mrs. Mahoney’s position. She gripped Dylan’s left hand with her right and