Dancing With Werewolves (2008)
Dancing With Werewolves
“After Madrigal’s last Margie-less show was over and the myriad stagehands had left, I crept back to the theater and climbed the black iron ladder against the outer brick wall high into the flies.
Above me the deadened lights—as shuttered and heavy-lidded as a hooker with industrial strength mascara—could cast no cold, critical eye on my feeble maneuverings on the wires and lines that stretched down to the stage.
I just wanted to rehearse on my own, discover what I could—and couldn’t—do in this new arena I’d never chosen.
I grasped one of the bungee cord lines, wrapped it around my wrist as Madrigal had instructed, and . . . jumped. Flew like Peter Pan. Dive-bombed. Let myself out on a string of elastic until I thought I would crash and burn, then let myself be snapped back to the top of the building, waiting for my skull to shatter bricks.
I was a human yo-yo. I never hit sidewalk or sky, but boomeranged back and away from disaster at the very instant of impact.
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