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“You won again?” Zoe shook her head, sweat-damp ponytail bouncing with the movement, pouting in a way that Kamala would die a thousand painful deaths before admitting was kitten-riding-a-pony levels of adorable as she looked over her shoulder at Kamala. “How are you so good at this?”
Kamala grinned back at her, heart thump-thumping in her chest more with pride than exertion thanks to her all-new high-octane superhero action lifestyle. (Or maybe it was just a sympathy echo from looking at Zoe, with her cheeks so flushed and her eyes so large, and those strands of hair straggled loose from her ponytail that it would be so easy to reach out and tuck behind her ear…) Wait, what was the question again? Oh, right. “How am I so good at this? Oh, that’s easy.” She flipped her hair back over her shoulder in a move she totally hadn’t practiced in the mirror and grinned even wider, taking a wide stance and planting her hands firmly on her hips, lifting her chin high. “Sheer awesomeness.”
Obviously, she was hamming up like she was made of delicious, delicious infidel meat, so she gave even odds of Zoe rolling her eyes or just laughing. And how weird was it that not so long ago the thought of either of those would’ve opened up a black hole in her stomach instead of merely filling her head to toe with a kind of fond, tingly warmth?
Zoe did roll her eyes, but she also grinned — which totally counted as yet another win for Kamala’s particular brand of humour, no matter what certain philistines on the internet (and in her family) claimed — nudging Kamala gently with her elbow. “Yeah, yeah. You’re an intergalactic superhero. Big whoop.” She shot the TV a comically exaggerated frown. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re so good at this game. I swear I usually win against my other friends. You’re wrecking my streak, Kamala!”
On the screen, their digital avatars struck poses amidst a sea of sparkling glitter, Kamala’s raising the winner’s trophy — a pair of golden dancing shoes — high above her head in one hand as she blew kisses with the other.
“I’ve literally been training my whole life for this,” Kamala said, which would’ve been a perfect zinger if she hadn’t made the fatal mistake of looking over at exactly the wrong moment and meeting Zoe’s gaze so that she tripped right over her tongue and blurted out, “I’ve been dancing for as long as I can remember.”
Zoe blinked at her for a moment, looking uncertain, and her stomach dropped like a stone. No, it rocketed backwards like that same stone shot out of a catapult, dragging her back through time to a point before the bangle and everything that came afterwards, to when she was just clumsy, awkward, invisible head-in-the-clouds Kamala Khan; the kind of person who popular, pretty Zoe Zimmer would never in a million years caught dead hanging out and playing computer games with. In that instant, it was as if everything that had happened to her since had just been a dream, and she was so caught up in her own head that it took her a moment to realise that Zoe was speaking.
“I didn’t realise you’d still continued with it,” Zoe said softly, and from the expression on her face, Kamala wasn’t the only one having a flashback right about now.
“Oh. Right. I forgot you knew about that back before… Before.” Before they grew apart. Before Zoe found other, better friends to spend her time with. Before that time in their lives that they’ve both agreed to move past. “But yeah, of course I kept up with it. I love dancing. I danced at Aamir’s wedding. It was this whole choreographed thing. It was great.”
“I bet it was.” Zoe smiled softly, seeming weirdly a little proud before her expression twisted mischievously. “And you get to kick my ass at this stupid game, so there’s that too.”
That startled a laugh out of Kamala, and just like that everything was back to normal again. It doesn’t matter what happened in the past, she told herself firmly. We’re friends now, and that’s what’s important. “Want a rematch?” she offered brightly, waggling the controller.
“So you can win again, Little Miss Dancing Queen?”
“Don’t be a sore loser. Or, I’ve got another idea.”
“Well? Don’t keep me in suspense. What is it?”
Kamala shrugged as casually as she could, ignoring her pounding pulse and her clammy palms. “I could give you a dance lesson. If you want. Something easy. It’ll be fun.” Wait, no, what am I doing? “Never mind, it’s probably stupid. You don’t have to say yes just to be polite. We can keep playing the game, or we can play another game, or do something else. It’s up to you. Just let me—”
“Kamala!”
Kamala totally didn’t jump. “What?”
“I said, I’d love to.”
“Oh. Fantastic! You won’t regret this! Well, maybe you will, but either way, it’s going to be fun! Let’s just put the controllers away and make some space…”
For probably the first time ever, Kamala found herself thinking that maybe it was a good thing that she couldn’t actually fly. If she could, there was a distinct possibility that she might’ve ended up hovering a good few inches above the ground just from sheer excitement as they quickly tidied up and shifted the furniture around. In what felt like way too short a time, they were standing in the middle of the cleared area while she frantically searched a mind gone paper-blank for a suitable dance to start with.
“So, is standing there and staring off into space one of the moves, or…?” Zoe asked helpfully.
“Shut up!” Kamala wailed. “I’m trying to think, okay? There are a lot of dances to choose from.”
“You know, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I really would like to, but, like, no pressure or whatever. We can do something else. I don’t mind.”
“No! It’s not that. I just…” Kamala screwed her eyes shut and pressed the heels of her eyes into them, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out in an attempt to relax. “I’m nervous, okay.”
“Why are you nervous? It’s just me, Kamala. It’s not anyone important.”
It’s because it’s you, Kamala narrowly managed not to say, and was so busy congratulating herself over that that the words, “You are important,” slipped out. “You’re one of my best friends,” she hurried to add. Now, at least. “And dance is important to me. It means a lot to me, to share that with you.” Huh. She hadn’t even realised that until the words were out of her mouth. “So, yeah. I’m nervous. But it’s okay.” She let her hands drop and smiled at Zoe, blinking rapidly to clear the blurriness from her vision. “I think I’ve figured out the perfect dance to teach you.” She held out her hand to Zoe, her stomach flip-flopping. “So, want to dance?”
Zoe, also blinking rapidly for some reason, smiled back at her and took her hand. “I’d love to.”