“I’m going back!” I announce, soon as we’re clear of Dobey. Man, can he shout. My ears are still
I think my partner’s must be too, because he doesn’t respond. So, I repeat myself. Louder.
What’s understood is he’ll be coming with me.
I don’t need to say that.
“To the disco!”
Hutch gives me a fish-eyed look. “Why?”
Jeez Louise. Did he knock his head into a
wall and I didn’t notice? “That contest was rigged. There's no way that sticky-fingered, jive-dancing, disco turkey should've won. He must’ve bribed the disc jockey.”
It’s obvious, right? I mean, just think
of all the other folks who might get cheated out of their trophy.
But he starts laughing at me. I don’t
like being laughed at, and I’m not going to stand around and put up with it.
Hutch runs to catch up with me.
“You’re mad because you lost,” he says.
“No.” I’m - as they say
- standing on my dignity. “I won. That crook gave away my trophy.”
“Hey.” He’s sincere. “You don’t need a cheap trophy.
I’ll always know you’re the best dancer on the floor.”
That shouldn’t make me feel better.
But it does.