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  That’s why I was going to the Festival with Victor. The breath-taking, confusing Victor. The man who had made me feel better than I’d ever felt before, and who touched me like he couldn’t get enough of me. The man who had gone completely cold once the sex was over and couldn’t rush me out of his place fast enough.

  But he asked me to go away with him.

  I spent hours packing the overnight suitcase I usually took up to my mom’s for Christmas. It was too small to fit everything I wanted to take. I checked Lola’s profile and found the link to the Festival website, but it didn’t give much information unless you were registered, including where it was located.

  I wasn’t sure what kind of clothes I would need but the descriptive words on the website like “rustic” and “woodsy” gave me a clue. I packed for a series of picnics on a hot summer day, with shorts and peasant skirts, plus my slinky halter dress in case I needed something sexy for evening. Shoes were the hardest, and I finally decided to take a huge tote that I could carry on the plane with extra shoes and toiletries.

  The next day at work, I got the text from Victor: All set. I’ll pick you up at your place at 4.

  I texted back my address, while Kalisha and the other girls began calling me out for getting whisked off by my rich boyfriend. It was exciting to be dating a man like Victor. This was why I had worked so hard to make it in the city. To see more, do more and make the most of my life. To be surrounded by people who were trying to better themselves, who weren’t satisfied with just getting by.

  I was ready and waiting on my stoop when Victor pulled up in a cab. I didn’t want him to see my shabby little place, not with him living in such a magnificent apartment. He already must think I was low-rent. I didn’t want to prove it to him.

  He was in another immaculate suit, looking very sharp. I felt like a movie star, wearing my summer dress and stiletto sandals, heading off to the airport for a late flight.

  The glamour continued at the airport as Victor went to the special services desk and got our tickets, free of charge. The woman at the counter smiled at him, calling him by name. I felt a stab of jealousy. The blond girl was pretty in her uniform. It seemed like Victor knew her well, and I wanted to ask about her, but it was impossible without sounding jealous.

  Even though I had never flown before, I thought I was faking it okay until we got to the front of the long security line. First I couldn’t get my jewelry off fast enough. People kept brushing past me to go through the metal detector. Then when I finally went through myself, feeling nervous, some burly dude sitting at the machine ordered the TSA cop to take my tote bag off the belt.

  The guy was standing there holding my tote and I tried to take it from him, but he wouldn’t let me. Instead he brought me over to one side and pulled out everything. All of my shoes and my bags of toiletries were laid on his counter. Suddenly six pairs of shoes seemed like a lot.

  The guy threw my shampoo, bodywash, perfume and my lotion away. “There’s only three ounces in each one!” I protested. “I checked them all.”

  “The containers are too big,” the guy barked.

  It was so embarrassing! Not to mention, now I didn’t have any toiletries.

  I threw everything left into my tote bag and tried to put on a happy face for Victor. He had watched with amused detachment. “Don’t worry,” he assured me. “We can get more in Baltimore.”

  It was nerve-wracking and embarrassing, and I felt completely out of my depth. When we boarded the plane, I had to force myself to not ask questions. But I was really nervous. I grabbed his hand and held on tightly as the plane took off.

  Again, he looked at me with curious eyes, as if trying to figure me out. “Have you ever flown before?”

  “No, this is my first time.”

  He shook his head slightly, as if he couldn’t imagine that. I felt even more low-rent. But I had never had the money to spend on a vacation, or any reason to fly.

  The flight was quick, over before I could fully appreciate that I was flying. I strained to see out the window as we landed, but when I caught Victor’s amused look, I sat back again. I felt like such a dweeb!

  When we got off, Victor guided me with sure steps through the maze of an airport. I knew I would have stood there gaping, trying to figure out where to go without him there. He even steered me into a store with an open wall to buy shampoo and soap. They came in little bottles, and I perked up when he said, “You can refill these to use the next time we fly.”

  Next time we fly. Those were magic words.

  In a huge row of gigantic silver conveyer belts, he picked out one and stood next to it. Two other units were spitting out bags, but I recognized people from my flight standing around us. It was a long wait in my high heels and I finally went to go sit down as Victor gathered up my suitcase, his suitcase and a big duffle bag he had also brought.

  I was tired and dazed and very glad that Victor seemed perfectly capable of handling everything. That’s what came of dating a man who knew his way around the world.

  Victor found the guy holding a sign saying Festival, and got our gear packed into a long passenger van. A bunch of people were already seated in the van, but they good-naturedly made room for us. It was hot and humid, even as the sun was setting.

  So far flying had not been as glamorous as I always imagined. It was tiring and confusing and I wanted to stop and take a deep breath to catch up.

  Instead, we drove for ages. I let my head fall onto Victor’s shoulder and dozed. I’d gotten up early for work and stayed up late last night packing.

  It was dark when we finally stopped, and I couldn’t see much of anything but a few telephone poles with lights at the top.

  When my feet hit the ground, my high heels sank into the dirt. It was soft from the recent rain. “Oh, no!” I exclaimed, trying to scrape the mud off my heels. But there was nowhere to step.

  I climbed back into the van to change my shoes, glad that I had another pair handy in my bag. Everyone else from the van was gathered around the back grabbing their suitcases.

  By the time I joined Victor, wearing sneakers without socks, the others were disappearing down a gravel path.

  We went past a few wooden buildings with front porches, overlooking a sunken meadow. Our way ran along the ridge next to the buildings.

  Solar lights that people used to line driveways were stuck along the path and where other paths intersected. There were few overhead lights, and it was much darker than the parking lot.

  “This one is ours,” Victor said.

  I was ready to collapse in a chair by the fire—I could smell wood burning—and have a tall, cold drink. I needed bucking up for what lay ahead.

  Victor pushed open the screen door and held it for me. The room was much bigger than I had imagined, with high beamed ceilings. But then I saw the beds. There was nothing inside but a row of cots down each wall, with a rough partition in the middle that formed cubbyholes for our things. Towels were hung on two wires along the back, and someone had set up a window fan to try to stir the stifling air.

  I stared at the cots that Victor claimed. He unzipped the duffle and pulled out two sleeping bags. “Here’s yours.”

  We were in the middle of the row. The prime spots by the windows were already claimed.

  “Rustic,” I murmured, looking up and around.

  Victor grinned. “It’s camp.”

  “I never went to camp when I was a kid.”

  “Neither did I,” he admitted.

  Camp had been a distant dream for me as a girl. As distant as an apartment with a view was now. In my young mind, camp had stood for the ultimate in freedom and fun. Getting away from your parents and the same old street and the same old people. Swim and run around all day and sleep under the stars at night.

  For the first time since the TSA stole my shampoo, I felt okay. I wouldn’t have to struggle to pretend to be something I wasn’t. I could do camp. Probably much better than I could do glamour.

  Sudde
nly I wasn’t nearly as tired as before. I wanted to get out and see what the Festival was all about.

  Chapter 14

  Victor

  I was surprised by how Sierra sprang to life once we reached the Festival. As we wandered around the extensive grounds, she practically danced along with the music that filled the air. There were bonfires going here and there, and a big one in the center of the sloping meadow. She got hold of a glow stick at some point, and forever after my memories of that night were etched with glowing green streaks and swirls.

  That night, I dropped out of my jet-setting role with Sierra. I wasn’t pretending to be someone else. I was just myself, enjoying being with her.

  I loved the loose camouflage tank she wore over a tight white one that showed the curve of her breast when she moved. Her long legs were even more mesmerizing in her little shorts, flashing as she ran down the dirt paths. Her steampunk mask looked perfect, giving her the air of an action figure instead of an ordinary girl.

  There were clutches of tents in lines along the paths and in big clusters near the tent-cabins. Each of the different areas had a theme—at one, everyone was naked. I noticed that Sierra stared for all she was worth as we passed by, but she didn’t say anything.

  She also didn’t say anything when we saw a man casually spanking a woman as they sat on the front steps of a cabin. Inside a couple of tents we could see people having sex, and one couple was openly fucking over the railing of one of the bridges that crossed the creek. It was a heedless, anything-goes kind of place.

  For dinner, we bought big bowls of stew sold from a folding table outside one of the tents. We sat cross-legged on the grass as a mock-battle raged in the dark meadow. One side was wearing camouflage, and several of them urged Sierra to join before the fray broke out. She laughingly declined, but I thought she regretted sitting it out once the nerf-ball engagement got underway. It turned out that they needed the extra man because the other side that was dressed as little kids went in with a wild scatter-formation, and whipped the camo-dudes’ asses.

  When we reached the bandstand, people were dancing on a large concrete floor to techno-music. The flashing lights made it the brightest place in camp. We danced for a little while, before pushing on.

  At the bottom of the meadow, we crossed another bridge over the winding creek, lured on by the sound of drums. Several poles were erected in a giant teepee skeleton over the path at the entrance to a clearing. A bonfire was going in the center and people were dancing around it to the beat of at least eight drums.

  I looked at Sierra, remembering the tiny drum circle at the party. The night she saw Lola’s back tattoo.

  Sierra settled the mask over her face as we went in. It was easy to spot Lola in the crowd—there were feathers in her hair, sticking up and dangling from long thin braids. She was nearly naked, with only a black clout, like the kind Transcendence wore at their drum circle. This time it didn’t look like the group was working.

  Lola kept bouncing up and running over to talk to people, gesturing a lot with her hands, more animated than I had ever seen her. Then she ran back to Martin and plastered her nearly nude body against his lanky frame. He seemed patient with her, slightly paternal with his reassuring pats and nods. He was always watching her.

  Sierra had gone silent, the mask over her face. We sat on logs where we could see Lola’s crew. Martin finally settled onto the ground next to June and Spike, leaning back on a log. Lola rushed over and plopped down on the ground, snuggling against him.

  “I hardly recognize her.” Sierra’s voice was muffled by the mask.

  I took another look—Lola’s resemblance to Sierra was remarkable. I would recognize her anywhere. Plus there were those wings that she was flying in all their glory now, with some color added. I didn’t know if Sierra could see that in the flickering light.

  “She’s smiling,” Sierra added.

  I realized she was right. That was the difference. The surly sneer was gone, and Lola was laughing and relaxed.

  “Do you think she’s doing drugs?” Sierra asked.

  I watched more closely as Lola hung out with her lover and her friends—it looked like she knew a lot of the people here. She occasionally got up and danced around the fire, then flopped on the ground against Martin again. I had the feeling Lola had already danced for a while and was riding a post-euphoric high. Martin kept checking her back, so maybe she had been pierced again.

  “I don’t see any drugs,” I finally said. “The producers are careful about keeping things like that out. I don’t even smell marijuana.”

  Sierra nodded. “She’s just having fun.”

  We stayed there for a long time, watching the dancers circle in front of us, as new people joined and others dropped out. Eventually Lola and Martin left, arms wrapped around each other, with Martin calling back something to Spike about breakfast tomorrow. They headed into the darkened area beyond, where camping tents were pitched.

  Sierra let out a long sigh. I wasn’t sure what she was thinking, but she looked sad.

  “Do you want to go?” I asked.

  She stood up, but she turned to the dancers. “Just a minute.”

  Sierra took a few steps toward the fire circle, picking up the rhythm of the beat. First she circled outside the dancers, but soon she melded in seamlessly, skipping and twirling in her own orbit. The others gave way, hungry for more dancers to feed the frenzy.

  I sat down again, as I watched Sierra loosen up, raising her arms, and finally smiling again. I was so glad to see her feeling better that I didn’t mind sitting on the bumpy log while she circled again and again. There was something touching about her abandon.

  As it went on, I wished I could feel the same way. But I knew even if I stood up and moved my body to the beat, circling the fire, it wouldn’t work for me. I could never let go like that. I had never felt that childlike innocence that allowed you to trust that everything would be okay.

  Because I knew it wasn’t okay. There were times you were cold and hungry and nobody cared, and if you couldn’t do something about it yourself, you were screwed.

  But for a while I could almost feel it by watching Sierra, as she threw all care away and danced.

  ...

  When I got up the next morning, Sierra was still face-deep in her make-shift pillow made from a towel I had brought. She had danced around the fire last night for over an hour, and I had to support her as we made our way back to our cabin. She was weaving and trying to kiss me as we walked, almost as if she was punch-drunk. Dancing in the circle had raised her endorphins, like a long-distance run, exactly like a good scene did.

  So I had tucked her in bed, kissing her smiling lips. Her eyes were already closed, and despite the noise coming from the still-partying Festival and a guy snoring over in the corner, she fell instantly asleep.

  I went to breakfast alone and left a message for her, but when I got back, she was still sleeping. Two others in our cabin were also still asleep. It showed how hard she must work so that when she finally released that tension, she passed out for this long.

  When she finally woke smiling, and I heard her singing in the bathroom next door in the common showers, I realized Sierra didn’t have any problem with the inconveniences of camp life. Luxury wasn’t a necessity for her. Unlike Adrianne, who would have hated the Festival for its bugs and noise and most of all, the other people rubbing elbows with us in the cabin.

  I had expected that Sierra, with her high heels and pretty dresses, wouldn’t like to be without a fully-stocked private bathroom and her own plug for her flat iron. But she twisted her hair into two knobs on the top of her head, like ears, and was ready in minutes, sans makeup. I liked that about her.

  We spent the afternoon in the giant pool outside the mess hall. It was busy and people came and went, while we lay in the deck chairs or bobbed in the water on noodles. The sun moved in and out of clouds, keeping it from getting too hot. Her swimming wasn’t very good—it was actually dog paddling�
��and she said her brothers used to take Lola and her to the public pool a few blocks away when they were kids. I could tell the pool was a place she remembered fondly.

  I would have been perfectly happy, but she made a few comments about how wonderful it must be to swim in the fancy hotel pools when I traveled. And how great it must be to be able to get away from city heat whenever I wanted to. She also asked me more about places I had visited, like Thailand and Peru, and did I ever go to Egypt? I usually liked to talk about my travels—I had perfected the art of doing it on a dime. But I didn’t like the eager way she asked, like she was imagining herself going along with me. I knew she wasn’t thinking about youth hostels and grimy bathrooms with a hole in the floor—she figured I stayed in a real hotel and ordered room service every morning.

  And even though she wasn’t high-maintenance, she never once offered to pay for her food or drinks, and she eagerly accepted a chain rope bracelet I bought for her when she admired it on the marketplace row where vendors were selling toys and clothes. For me, every dollar was parted with painfully, but she didn’t think anything of it because she assumed I was rich and able to give her this trip with a snap of my fingers.

  Keeping tally on her kept me from thoroughly enjoying myself like I did last night. There were times when I caught her looking at me curiously as the black thoughts consumed me, making me frown or turn away from her.

  One thing was undeniable—I couldn’t keep my hands off her. In the pool, my fingers slid over her wet waist, cupping her curves, supporting her butt as I held her in the water. We kept kissing each other, long and slow, as people splashed around us.

  She didn’t suggest that we go back to the drum circle where Lola was camping. I didn’t suggest it either. I didn’t want her distracted from me.

  When we finally tired of the pool, and were wandering back to our cabin, we were drawn to the cool shade of the barn that had been converted into a giant hall with a stage across one end. Play furniture was set up here and there, along with giant pulleys that riggers used for suspension bondage. This was one of the places that had been packed last night with people playing, but Sierra had taken one look and turned away. She wasn’t a voyeur and the sounds of people crying out seemed to be too much for her.