Rohit followed Jairaj glumly to the bus stop. Without a word, he followed his cousin onto the #31 bus, refusing to sit when Jairaj took a seat and patted the empty space next to him. Up and down the hills that made South Mountain, through the S-curves of the Reservation, Rohit clutched a metal poll and swayed with the bus's motion.
It was hard, he thought, to put into words how badly he wanted his quiet life and quiet home back. He loved his grandparents, to be sure, but it was tedious to be silent in the evenings when they went to bed early, and to be quiet during their daytime rest periods. Even worse, thought Rohit, was the now inviolable practice of watching Jeopardy as a family. Shortly before the game show came on at 7 p.m., Rohit was expected to pass out ball point pens to the family, assembled in the den in their usual spots. The family played along with the show, and when they wanted to "buzz in" with an answer, along with the televised contestants, each was expected to click the ball point pen audibly. The family wagered along with Alex, the show's host. At the end of each evening's game, Rohit's grandfather wrote the family members' scores in a notebook which was stored with the pens. Rohit dreaded the day that a friend might visit and need a piece of scrap paper. He imagined the friend pulling out the notebook and seeing names and numbers in his grandfather's angular script, and the inevitable explanations that would follow.
Jairaj roused Rohit from his thoughts with a nudge."We're there," he said, stepping down from the bus onto the parking deck of the Short Hills Mall.
Jairaj walked quickly to the glass doors leading into the mall's large open central plaza. Rohit followed, nearly colliding with his cousin, who paused to check his reflection in the doors. Peering around Jairaj, Rohit saw large groups of people in the mall, most dressed in red and black. He looked at Jairaj, who was wearing the same colors.
As they pulled open the doors, a burst of music almost overwhelmed Rohit. He heard the strains of "Going to the Go-Go," and saw a wave of movement from the people. He looked at Jairaj, who was moving in time to the music as they moved towards the group.
Jairaj bolted ahead, into the center of the group, raising his arms and dancing. Rohit was first horrified, wondering if the cousin obligation extended to pulling Jairaj from the grip of a...what?
"Is this a cult?" Rohit asked a passing security guard. "Like...a riot?"
"Dude," said the man. "It's a flashdance, you know, a flashmob. Get on your dancing shoes, buddy. We're about to do the twist."
It was hard, he thought, to put into words how badly he wanted his quiet life and quiet home back. He loved his grandparents, to be sure, but it was tedious to be silent in the evenings when they went to bed early, and to be quiet during their daytime rest periods. Even worse, thought Rohit, was the now inviolable practice of watching Jeopardy as a family. Shortly before the game show came on at 7 p.m., Rohit was expected to pass out ball point pens to the family, assembled in the den in their usual spots. The family played along with the show, and when they wanted to "buzz in" with an answer, along with the televised contestants, each was expected to click the ball point pen audibly. The family wagered along with Alex, the show's host. At the end of each evening's game, Rohit's grandfather wrote the family members' scores in a notebook which was stored with the pens. Rohit dreaded the day that a friend might visit and need a piece of scrap paper. He imagined the friend pulling out the notebook and seeing names and numbers in his grandfather's angular script, and the inevitable explanations that would follow.
Jairaj roused Rohit from his thoughts with a nudge."We're there," he said, stepping down from the bus onto the parking deck of the Short Hills Mall.
Jairaj walked quickly to the glass doors leading into the mall's large open central plaza. Rohit followed, nearly colliding with his cousin, who paused to check his reflection in the doors. Peering around Jairaj, Rohit saw large groups of people in the mall, most dressed in red and black. He looked at Jairaj, who was wearing the same colors.
As they pulled open the doors, a burst of music almost overwhelmed Rohit. He heard the strains of "Going to the Go-Go," and saw a wave of movement from the people. He looked at Jairaj, who was moving in time to the music as they moved towards the group.
Jairaj bolted ahead, into the center of the group, raising his arms and dancing. Rohit was first horrified, wondering if the cousin obligation extended to pulling Jairaj from the grip of a...what?
"Is this a cult?" Rohit asked a passing security guard. "Like...a riot?"
"Dude," said the man. "It's a flashdance, you know, a flashmob. Get on your dancing shoes, buddy. We're about to do the twist."
