Read Online Feeding Frenzy (The Summoner Sisters Book 1) by Allison Hurd - Free Book Online
Authors: Allison Hurd
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little.
Then, one of our favorite songs comes on.
I catch Lia grooving a little bit. When she eventually meets my eye, I start dancing too, a little more purposefully, if mockingly.
She issues me a nonverbal challenge and amps it up. Her keg gets a little more popular as people notice her dance moves and begin cheering her on.
Appropriate escalation is a crucial part of all fights. Dance offs are no exception. She finishes her piece and waves me back in. I stand, one foot on the stool, one foot on the keg and really start putting on a show, popping and locking, getting low. I almost forget for a second that people are watching us—really, this is just a private war between my sister and me. But then I look into the sea of faces staring at me with a mix of awe and judgment and start laughing. I tag Lia back in.
While I’ve learned most of my dance moves from television and parties, she was actually a dancer as a kid. She can’t remember going to competition or the hours she spent perfecting routines, and that causes me a twinge of regret. But she still has the muscle memory, and I’ve made sure to re-expose her to all of the dance forms she knew. So, she gets up on the keg and starts tap dancing like a modern, female, Fred Astaire—so I guess like Ginger Rogers. The crowd goes wild. I admit defeat, raising my hands in submission. She shoots me a victorious grin, arms above her head. Her cheering public bursts again into raucous applause. I’m about to step down and get back to being scenery but she makes the universal expression to ask me what I’m doing. Only then do I realize what she’s intending.
“No...no, that’s okay!” I try to communicate with her. She stomps a foot on the keg. The bridge of the song starts up and people are looking at us expectantly. She looks so happy and reckless, like the wash of faces I see staring back. My good sense wavers. Damn you, Lia. Then I laugh again and stand fully on the keg, warming up the crowd a little.
“Well then come on!” I motion to her.
Feeling a little ridiculous, I begin our syncopated routine, performed to date only in motel rooms and cornfields. After a rhythmic sequence of shakes, rolls, and claps we both step back onto our kegs. Getting our footing is a little weird—motel beds give, but they are not rounded. She begins pirouetting on hers, while I go into a bridge followed by kicks and headstands. As the song ends, she is standing with one foot on the keg, one foot straight up beside her head, and I pull up into a grueling one-armed handstand on my good side. We stick it, the bar roaring with applause and cheers. We get both feet back onto our barrels, and bow, laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of our public exhibition.
Which is when I first notice Gregor, live and in person, standing in the throng of people with a stupid grin on his mangled face.
C HAPTER 5
It takes a while for Gregor to be able to get up close to me, what with the sudden run on people who want beer and to tell me in varying degrees of appropriateness that they enjoyed the show. I make the most of this time, wallowing in my shame. I try to get to a point of personal acceptance. I just performed a synchronized dance to a pop song in a crowded bar, in front of a badass of legendary fame. What did I do to piss the Fates off so badly? Why can’t we ever just have fun? How is it that every time my sister and I are just being us, someone from work shows up? Clem and his untimely roadside meeting, Gregor in our bar...if there wasn’t already an agreement among the others banishers that Lia and I are hacks, there will be now. Fan-fucking-tastic.
“I didn’t realize how important dancing was for monster fighting,” he shouts in my ear when he can get close enough. I grimace painfully, unable to muster a better welcome for him.
“Oh...yeah. Lia and I are experimenting with it.”
He actually
Then, one of our favorite songs comes on.
I catch Lia grooving a little bit. When she eventually meets my eye, I start dancing too, a little more purposefully, if mockingly.
She issues me a nonverbal challenge and amps it up. Her keg gets a little more popular as people notice her dance moves and begin cheering her on.
Appropriate escalation is a crucial part of all fights. Dance offs are no exception. She finishes her piece and waves me back in. I stand, one foot on the stool, one foot on the keg and really start putting on a show, popping and locking, getting low. I almost forget for a second that people are watching us—really, this is just a private war between my sister and me. But then I look into the sea of faces staring at me with a mix of awe and judgment and start laughing. I tag Lia back in.
While I’ve learned most of my dance moves from television and parties, she was actually a dancer as a kid. She can’t remember going to competition or the hours she spent perfecting routines, and that causes me a twinge of regret. But she still has the muscle memory, and I’ve made sure to re-expose her to all of the dance forms she knew. So, she gets up on the keg and starts tap dancing like a modern, female, Fred Astaire—so I guess like Ginger Rogers. The crowd goes wild. I admit defeat, raising my hands in submission. She shoots me a victorious grin, arms above her head. Her cheering public bursts again into raucous applause. I’m about to step down and get back to being scenery but she makes the universal expression to ask me what I’m doing. Only then do I realize what she’s intending.
“No...no, that’s okay!” I try to communicate with her. She stomps a foot on the keg. The bridge of the song starts up and people are looking at us expectantly. She looks so happy and reckless, like the wash of faces I see staring back. My good sense wavers. Damn you, Lia. Then I laugh again and stand fully on the keg, warming up the crowd a little.
“Well then come on!” I motion to her.
Feeling a little ridiculous, I begin our syncopated routine, performed to date only in motel rooms and cornfields. After a rhythmic sequence of shakes, rolls, and claps we both step back onto our kegs. Getting our footing is a little weird—motel beds give, but they are not rounded. She begins pirouetting on hers, while I go into a bridge followed by kicks and headstands. As the song ends, she is standing with one foot on the keg, one foot straight up beside her head, and I pull up into a grueling one-armed handstand on my good side. We stick it, the bar roaring with applause and cheers. We get both feet back onto our barrels, and bow, laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of our public exhibition.
Which is when I first notice Gregor, live and in person, standing in the throng of people with a stupid grin on his mangled face.
C HAPTER 5
It takes a while for Gregor to be able to get up close to me, what with the sudden run on people who want beer and to tell me in varying degrees of appropriateness that they enjoyed the show. I make the most of this time, wallowing in my shame. I try to get to a point of personal acceptance. I just performed a synchronized dance to a pop song in a crowded bar, in front of a badass of legendary fame. What did I do to piss the Fates off so badly? Why can’t we ever just have fun? How is it that every time my sister and I are just being us, someone from work shows up? Clem and his untimely roadside meeting, Gregor in our bar...if there wasn’t already an agreement among the others banishers that Lia and I are hacks, there will be now. Fan-fucking-tastic.
“I didn’t realize how important dancing was for monster fighting,” he shouts in my ear when he can get close enough. I grimace painfully, unable to muster a better welcome for him.
“Oh...yeah. Lia and I are experimenting with it.”
He actually
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