When Tiffany stands, I do too. Just like we practiced so many times, I hold Tiffany’s hand and take a bow, at which time the applause thickens and the audience stands.
I’m so happy, but at the same time I am sad because none of my family and friends came to support me—but then I hear the loudest Eagles chant I have ever heard in my entire life. “E!-A!-G!-L!-E!-S! EAGLES!” I look up toward the back rows, and not only do I spot Jake and Caitlin and Mom, but also Scott and the fat men and Cliff and the entire Asian Invasion. They are all wearing Eagles jerseys, and I start to laugh when they begin to chant, “Baskett! Baskett! Baskett! Baskett!”
In the front row, Ronnie is smiling at me proudly. He gives me the thumbs-up when we make eye contact. Veronica is also smiling, and so is little Emily, but Mrs. Webster is crying and smiling at the same time, which is when I realize that she thinks our dance was really beautiful—enough to make her cry.
Tiffany and I run offstage, and the high school girls congratulate us with their gaping eyes and their smiles and their chatter. “Oh, my God. That was so amazing!” they all say. It is easy to see that every one of them admires Tiffany because Tiffany is an excellent dancer and a talented choreographer.
Finally Tiffany faces me and says, “You were perfect!”
“No, you were perfect!” I say. “Do you think we won?”
She smiles and looks down at her feet.
“What?” I say.
“Pat, I need to tell you something.”
“What?”
“There’s no gold trophy.”
“What?”
“There are no winners at Dance Away Depression. It’s just an exhibition. I made up the part about the wreath just to motivate you.”
“Oh.”
“And it worked, because you were beautiful out there onstage! Thank you, and I will be your liaison,” Tiffany says just before she kisses me on the lips and hugs me for a very long time. Her kiss tastes salty from the dancing, and it is strange to have Tiffany hugging me so passionately in front of so many teenage girls in tights—especially because I am shirtless and my torso is freshly shaved—and also I do not like to be touched by anyone except Nikki.
“So now that we are done dancing, can I talk about Eagles football again? Because I have a lot of Eagles fans out there waiting for me.”
“After nailing the routine, you can do whatever you want, Pat,” Tiffany whispers into my ear, and then I wait a long time for her to stop hugging me.
After I change in the storage closet, Tiffany tells me there are no more naked teenagers backstage, so I go to greet my fans. When I hop down off the stage, Mrs. Webster grabs my hands, looks into my eyes, and says, “Thank you.” She keeps looking into my eyes, but the old woman doesn’t say anything else, which makes me feel sort of weird.
Finally Veronica says, “What my mother means to say is that tonight meant a lot to Tiffany.”
Emily points at me and says, “Pap!”
“That’s right, Em,” Ronnie says. “Uncle Pat.”
“Pap! Pap! Pap!”
We all laugh, but then I hear fifty Indian men chanting, “Baskett! Baskett! Baskett!”
“Better go greet your rowdy fans,” Ronnie says, so I walk up the aisle toward the sea of Eagles jerseys. Other audience members I don’t know pat me on the back and congratulate me as I weave my way through them.
“You were so good up there!” my mother says in a way that lets me know she was surprised by my excellent dancing skills, and then she hugs me. “I’m so proud!”
I hug her back and then ask, “Is Dad here?”
“Forget Dad,” Jake says. “You got sixty or so wild men waiting to take you to the most epic tailgate party of your life.”
“Hope you weren’t planning on getting any sleep tonight,” Caitlin says to me.
“You ready to end the Pat Peoples curse?” Cliff asks me.
“What?” I say.
“The Birds haven’t won since you stopped watching. Tonight we’re taking drastic measures to end the curse,” Scott says. “We’re sleeping in the Asian Invasion bus, right outside the Wachovia parking lot. We set up the tailgate party at daybreak.”
“Ashwini is driving around the block right now, waiting for us,” Cliff says. “So. Are you ready?”
I am a little shaken by the news, especially since I just finished such an excellent dance routine and was hoping to simply enjoy the accomplishment for more than ten minutes. “I don’t have my clothes.”
But my mom pulls my Baskett jersey out of a duffel bag I hadn’t noticed before and says, “You have everything you need in here.”
“What about my meds?”
Cliff holds up a little plastic bag with my pills inside.