Chapter 9 - When the Fairy Lights Went Out
The second clip was still playing when it happened.
On the big black screen, Mom's hand was on my shoulder in the hallway by the back tables. You could see her mouth moving. You could see the man's mouth moving back at her. I couldn't hear every word because the ballroom was so loud with people whispering, but Mr. Graham was standing closest to the DJ booth and I saw his face change. His eyebrows pulled together. That was the part where the money was mentioned.
Then the picture froze.
Not paused. It jerked and stopped on Mom's face with her mouth half open. The sound cut into a buzz and then nothing. I thought at first my phone had died.
Then the fairy-light curtain behind the DJ went dark.
It happened all at once. The little white lights just blinked out. The screen went completely black. The small lamp on the DJ's laptop table went out too. I felt the air change, like when someone turns off a fan you didn't know you were hearing.
People gasped. I heard it roll back from the white tables, a real inhale from a lot of mouths. The only light left was the chandelier over the dance floor. It wasn't bright like before. It threw yellow circles on the white floor and left the corners gray.
I was still holding the microphone. I squeezed it tighter and said, "Wait — there's more," but nothing came out loud. My voice sounded small, like I was talking into a pillow. The red light on the mic was off.
The DJ stood up fast behind his table. "Whoa, whoa," he said. "I didn't — I didn't touch that." He held both his hands up where everyone could see them.
Vanessa was already moving. I saw her white lace sleeve in the edge of the chandelier light. She was near the side curtain where the black cords ran down to the wall. Her updo had loosened and a piece of hair stuck to her cheek. She was breathing hard.
"What happened?" Mr. Graham said. His voice cut through the dark. "Plug it back in."
Nobody moved. The DJ looked from Mr. Graham to Vanessa and back. He swallowed so hard I saw his throat move.
"I can't amplify without power, sir," he said. His voice shook. "The whole strip's dead."
I felt my chest get tight. Without the screen, it was just me again, the kid in the yellow cardigan standing on the platform. My cardigan felt too warm. One of the buttons dug into my stomach. My flats slipped a little on the platform because my feet were sweating.
Mom got up on the platform with me. She didn't grab the microphone. She put her hand flat on my back, right between my shoulder blades, and leaned down so her forehead was almost touching my temple.
"Breathe with me, baby," she whispered. Not into a mic. Just for me. "In through your nose. Like we do in the pickup line."
I tried, but my breath caught. I could smell her perfume and the powdery smell of the ballroom curtains.
"In," she said again, calm and slow. "One, two. Out."
I did it. My shoulders dropped a little. She kept her hand on my back and with her other hand she pressed down on my cardigan pocket, right where my phone was. I felt the hard rectangle through the knit. She wasn't taking it. She was just making sure it was still there.
"You got it?" she breathed.
I nodded. The curls of my ponytail brushed her cheek.
Vanessa's heels clicked on the dance floor. Even in the half-light I could see her eyes were wet and angry.
"There. You see?" she said loudly to the room. "It's over. The equipment failed. Lily, honey, give me that." She reached her hand out for the microphone. "You're going to hurt yourself up there in the dark."
I stepped back. My heel hit the edge of the DJ's speaker. The microphone was dead but I held it against my chest anyway.
"No," I said. My voice barely carried past the platform.
Mr. Graham stepped forward into the chandelier light. The crystals threw little spots across his suit.
"Leave her alone, Vanessa," he said. He wasn't shouting. That made it scarier. "Did you pull that plug?"
Vanessa dropped her hand. She glanced at the side curtain, at the cord on the floor.
"Are you serious?" she said. "In front of everyone? The lights surge here all the time. Ask anyone."
A woman at the nearest white-linen table stood up. "We want to see the rest," she said.
Another man said, "Yeah. Let her finish."
The room stayed half-dark. The black screen stared back at us, empty. The fairy lights were just strings of gray bulbs now. I could hear ice melting in glasses and someone's chair scraping.
May you like
Mom kept her hand on my pocket. Her fingers were shaking, but her voice stayed steady.
"We're right here," she whispered to me. "They can turn off the lights, but they can't turn off you."
