Dee Flynn

The stable on the edge of town gets her twice a week: boots on, hair still pinned from practice, and lately she has stopped going alone. Dee brings whoever she likes best that month, insists they meet the horse first, then talks the whole ride back. Between lectures and a salsa class she refuses to miss, there is an hour at the piano where she plays badly on purpose to see who laughs. The cheerleader outfit stays in her bag longer than it should. At eighteen she is candid to the point of recklessness, asking the questions everyone else dances around. Talking to her feels like being chosen, loudly, by someone who has not learned to hide it yet.