Page 99 of Carousel

Over his shoulder, I glimpse Cosmer.

He’s staring at us. At me.

Not with warning, or anger, anymore.

With complete and utter revulsion.

It stings me. He’s repulsed by me?

Why? Has my dancing reminded him, yet again, that I’m nothing but a prisoner?

Nothing but Rhavnan scum?

I let my rage give me the confidence, the resolve, to ask Drake the questions burning holes in my brain.

“What does that mean? How can we know each other if we’ve never met?”

“That remains to be seen. But…”

“But what?”

His face looms by mine. In a voice that moves me like a tremor, he says, “Is your favourite colour seafoam green?”

My foot almost knocks his. He steps aside so naturally it makes it seem part of the dance.

I feel faint. I find myself holding onto him tighter to steady myself – even though all I want is to let go of him. Why is it so difficult to do?

I need answers.

Practically choking on my words, I demand, “How do you know that?”

“It came to me.”

“When?”

“Just now.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I.”

I gawk at him. “Who are you?”

“I’m just a nobody.”

I’m just a nobody.

My own words, echoed back to me, from when we first met. Is that deliberate?

He separates us one last time.

And as he does, his hand slips from mine.

I realise the song is over.

He’s walking away.

I still have so much to say to him. But I’m rooted in place.