And for the first time in two years, Elena Houston—no relation, but don’t tell her that—took her daughter’s hand and spun her around the driveway.
Elena smiled, real and slow. “Baby, I lived these words.” She picked up the CD case. “Throw Down. That means you don’t just listen. You leave it all on the floor.” Whitney Houston- Greatest Hits -Cd 1 - Throw Down-
The boombox crackled. Whitney hit the high note. And the driveway became a dance floor. And for the first time in two years,
She didn’t hear the screen door creak. “Throw Down
Maya thought of her father’s empty chair at dinner. Of the way her mother’s shoulders sagged. Of the boy at school who’d called her “too loud.”
She stood up. She sang into a hairbrush she’d pulled from her back pocket. She threw down every hurt, every quiet, swallowed word.
Track 1: “I Wanna Dance with Somebody.” The synth bass thumped through the blown speaker, rattling the windowpane. Maya froze. Then her hips moved. Then her shoulders. Then she was leaping around the cracked pavement, arms windmilling, yelling the chorus at a passing squirrel.