The flashy sportscar sped through the neighborhood paying no mind to traffic signals or stop signs. Jon would've been worried, if he hadn't been singing his lungs out to the song on the radio. He didn't really care too much for Nicki Minaj, but after learning most of his drill steps to the week's Top 40 hits, it was almost like he didn't mind pop music as much. Knowing all the words didn't mean he had to like the stuff though.
Jon mentally went through his steps as the song played.
"That boom-ba-doom doom, boom ba-doom doom bass. That boom-ba-doom doom yeah that super bass..."
Bounce 1, kick-back 2, 3, arms stretch, butt out and pop 5, pop 6, pop 7, tousle hair, pop 8. It had only been two sessions since he had learned the steps, but he was already a pro at it! Along with Katy Perry, Ke$ha, Beyonce, J. Lo, and that Madonna mega-mix. Once he figured out the pattern, the rest was a snap.
Jon thought back to that movie the Matrix. He was Neo. Only with pop music. Now that he had cracked the code, all the dances, steps, and moves made a whole lot more sense. Instead of just noise, he heard stutter-step, slide left, clap, rump shaker. Pretty soon he wouldn't need Brittney-Lynne to create routines for him to practice with - he'd be able to do it on his own, but, it would be weeks before he could truly call himself the One. Brittney-Lynne was definitely Morpheus, but that last thought caused some conflict. With his skills, could he honestly call himself Neo now, or should he consider himself Trinity? It didn't matter. She was a girl, but at least she was a bad-ass girl.
____
Karyn woke up to the sound of a rumbling engine in the driveway. Had she fallen asleep? What time was it?
The fog of an overtimed, inopportune nap made it hard for her to tell the two blondes apart. She cautiously peeked over the bushes to get a better look at her best friend and his "coach." They both wore matching black leggings tucked into a pair of brown Ugg boots. Both wore off-white long v-neck t-shirts. Both had a scarf wrapped around their necks. As the cobwebs faded, the shorter hair, shorter legs, and shorter fingernails helped her pick out Jon from afar. But that was about it. In daylight, she would've been able to pick Jon out like a sore thumb. But as things got darker, he might've easily blended in with the rest of the girls. The thought of Jon all dolled-up, standing on the 50-yard line, beaming a gigantic fake smile infuriated her. She didn't want that. Jon didn't want that. Those big diamond stud earrings sparkling, hands on his hips, the crowd raucous. She got more mad. They were going to turn her best friend into a stereotype! Karyn knew she should be waiting for Jon to be alone before confronting him. But just seeing the cause of all her grief standing there, right next to Jon without a care in the world, was too much.
Karyn stormed out of the bushes.
"Jon Gibson, what in the HELL do you think you're doing?!?"
