by Kari Jones
“Am not,” she says, but she blushes madly as she says it, so we all laugh.
“He has a sister named Beatrix. I met her too. She dances with Dana, by the way, Lila. Maybe she’s in your class. She’s tall and blond, and she looks a lot like Jonas. Hey, how was your first class?” Nini asks.
“Give us details,” Angela says to Nini before I can answer. “What did he say?”
Nini leans back in her seat and says, “He asked me if I always catch that bus home.”
Sarit giggles and says, “He so likes you!”
“I think I met his sister yesterday at Dana’s studio,” I say. “Dana has this amazing part of her choreography where we all come in together like a pinwheel, and Bea stands next to me in that formation. Dana says the choreography of any dance should have different formations to keep the audience’s attention.”
“Wait,” says Angela. “How did you meet Beatrix?”
“She was in the class,” I say.
“I was talking to Nini,” she says.
It’s like in dance when you miss a beat, and everything that comes after is wrong. Nini tells us all about how Jonas invited her into his house and made her a cup of tea, which is where she met Beatrix, and of course I want to hear what she says, but by the time we get off the bus, we’ve heard all about Nini’s visit with Jonas, but they haven’t heard anything at all about Dana’s class, and as we head into school, they don’t even ask.
* * *
It’s easier walking into the studio this afternoon now that I know where to go, but I’m still nervous because although I drilled the choreography every lunchtime and evening since last week’s class, I still don’t know it super well. My bus from school arrives only a couple of minutes before class starts, so the girls are already in the studio when I get there, and I have to pull off my shoes and coat quickly and run into the room.
“Drills again today, girls. I want to get the timing and sequencing of the drum section down,” says Dana as she strides into the room. We each find our spot in the room and settle into the starting posture. Dana starts the music, and we dance. The opening sequence goes well, and our timing is perfect as we pass the movement from one group of girls to the next.
“Good,” says Dana.
We start the next sequence, where the whole troupe shimmies into the center and creates a pinwheel. The timing’s tricky here, and I’m out of step by one beat.
Dana pauses the music. “Lila, let’s go over the transition into the center. It’s right foot behind left, twirl, and step out left so you’re balanced for the shimmy starting on your right.” I nod, but she motions to me to try it, so I go through the sequence as she’s described it. She frowns and stands beside me.
“Do it with me,” she says. We move together, right foot behind, twirl, step out left. At that point she puts her hand on my shoulder and says, “Step out a tiny bit more; that will balance you better. There you go.” And she’s right. It does feel better.
“Got it?” she asks.
“Got it.”
Dana returns to the front of the room, and we pick up where we left off. This time the transition is smooth, and we all enter the pinwheel formation on time.
“Good,” Dana calls.
The music continues, and we circle around each other, creating a wave of motion clockwise and then counterclockwise. We drill it again, but this time as we turn around the circle, Bea and I bump right into each other.
Dana stops the music. “Girls, break for a minute,” she says. “Get yourselves some water while I work with Bea on this.”
We walk to the edges of the room for our water bottles. I reach for mine past the tall girl with long dark hair, who rolls her eyes and says, “Bea never gets transitions.” There’s something brittle about how she stands, but it takes me a second to realize she’s pissed off.
I take a sip of water, then say, “I hope we’re not stopped for long.”
“I know, right?” she says, rolling her eyes again.
A red-haired girl joins us and says, “Chill, Eve. It’ll all be better when we’re on that stage and everyone’s perfect.”
Eve nods and shakes out her shoulders and neck. “Yep, you’re right.” She smiles at me and walks back to the center of the room.
“Eve takes her dance time very seriously, but don’t worry—she’s as critical of herself,” the redhead says. “I’m Sam, by the way.”
I keep an eye on Eve as we go back into our practice. She’s good. Her movements are effortless and graceful, and her body control is stunning. It’s hard to isolate a particular part of the body so that only one muscle group is moving, but when Eve does shoulder lifts, only her shoulders lift. When she does hip drops, only her hips drop. I can’t see that there’s much to be critical about. She’s the best dancer in the class for sure. Someone to watch and learn from.
Dana stands next to Bea through the next two drills and calls out every move she makes, and I also watch closely. I didn’t say anything to Eve or Sam, but deep down I am afraid it might have been me who was out of step when we bumped, not Bea.
Seven
In the evening, I practice the choreography over and over, until I know it by heart and could dance it in my sleep. In fact, I do dance it in my sleep—at least, that’s what it feels like, because I dream the steps all night long, and when I wake up, I’m tired and my body’s sore. I’m slow to get going in the morning, and I miss the first bus, so it’s only when I slide into my seat in English that I finally see Angela.
I have news, Angela writes in the margin of her notebook.
I lean over the table and write back, Tell.
It’s about Jonas!!! she writes.
The exclamation marks say everything. I start to write back, but Mrs. O’Connor asks the class to compose a short paragraph on whether or not it really is a sin to kill a mockingbird, and Angela pulls her notebook back to her side of the desk. Sigh. That’s so not the point of the book. Doesn’t Mrs. O’Connor know that?
When English class is over, Angela and I head to the courtyard for our lunch. I should be doing the homework that I skipped last night, but Angela pulls on my arm and steers me out of the class. “I have to talk to you,” she says as we push through the door.
We barely reach the picnic table before Angela plunks her lunch down and says, “Jonas asked me out.”
“What? When?” I say. So much for eating lunch. This is news.
“Next Wednesday evening. He wants to take me to a movie.”
“What about Nini?” I ask.
“Exactly. Promise you won’t tell. Promise?”
“But I thought Nini was in love with him,” I say.
“She is, but…” Angela seems to find her lunch box super interesting suddenly. She picks it up and stares at it from every angle. When she looks up, she says, “I really like him.”
“Wait. Wednesday you have dance,” I say.
“I know. I’ll have to miss the class.”
“You’re going to miss dance class to go out with a boy you hardly even know?”
“People do it,” Angela says.
“Good thing you aren’t dancing with Dana. She’d never let you get away with that,” I say.
“Good thing.”
“Actually, Dana says we should be dancing every day. Oh, she told me a new way to do chest lifts that I want to show you. It’ll help you with that sequence you’ve been having trouble with. Look.” It’s easier to show dance moves standing up, so I get up from the table and settle myself into a dance posture so that I can show Angela how chest lifts are way easier if you
constrict the muscles in your upper back between your shoulder blades.
“I said I really like him, Lila,” Angela says. “Aren’t you listening? I really like him.”
“Really like who?” says Nini. She and Sarit slide onto the picnic bench and pull out their lunches. We do this every day. It’s not like Angela didn’t know they were coming. Angela stares at me with a look that says, Keep quiet!
“The new puppy she wants her dad to get her,” I say. Well, it is true, even if it’s not the truth she happened to be talking about right now.
“Guess what? I invited Jonas and Bea to join us for lunch,” Nini says. Both she and Sarit giggle, and Angela widens her eyes and stares at me even harder. Before I can say or do anything, Jonas and Bea walk across the courtyard.
“I need to do some weeding,” says Angela when they join us. She gets up from the table and packs away her lunch. I notice she hasn’t looked directly at Jonas at all, but her face is redder than usual.
“I’ll help,” says Jonas, and when Sarit and Nini both turn to stare at him, he adds, “I need volunteer hours.”
“Your brother’s so nice,” Nini says to Bea as Angela and Jonas head to the garden beds. The ones farthest away, I can’t help but notice.
Bea shrugs.
“I was showing Angela what Dana told us yesterday about using your upper back muscles for chest lifts,” I say to Sarit and Nini. “Want to see?”
“I feel a sudden urge to weed,” Sarit says, and she and Nini giggle.
“Angela says those ones over there need work,” I say, pointing to a bed in the corner of the courtyard opposite Angela and Jonas.
“Ha-ha,” says Nini. She pulls Sarit up by the arm, and the two of them march off to the bed where Angela and Jonas are working. I don’t know which one I should feel sorry for, Angela for being interrupted, or Nini for not getting that Jonas would rather be with Angela than with her.
“I hope you don’t mind that I asked Alex and Robin to join us,” Bea says as two girls come into the courtyard. It’s getting to be like Grand Central Station around here, but I recognize Alex and Robin from Dana’s class, so I’m happy to see them.
“Hey,” I say as they sit down, and soon the four of us are deep in a conversation about the intricacies of Dana’s choreography and how beautiful it is.
“She always uses the music so well,” says Alex.
“I love the beginning sequence of our dance, the way the movement washes across the stage and how we all end up in a pinwheel that seems to float around the room,” says Robin.
“Me too. It’s so beautiful,” I say.
“You used to dance with Amala, didn’t you?” asks Bea.
“Yeah,” I say through a mouthful of salad.
“What was it like?”
“It was fun,” I say, “but nothing like Dana’s studio.”
Robin laughs. “Well, of course. That’s why all the best students end up with Dana.”
I glance at Angela crouching in the dirt, her long elegant fingers stroking a leafy green plant. “Yeah, I guess,” I say.
Robin must have followed my gaze and my thoughts because she says, “I hear Angela’s really good too.”
“She’s a natural,” I say.
“So how come she’s not dancing with Dana?”
I shrug. “She wasn’t invited.”
“Dana’s very picky, but she always chooses well. She must have seen something in you that she didn’t see in Angela. I bet she could come dance with Dana if she really wanted to. If she worked hard enough,” Robin says.
I don’t know what Angela really wants. I thought she wanted to dance more than anything, like I do, but in the last few days I’ve begun to wonder. She doesn’t seem to want to hear about Dana’s classes, and now she says she’s going to skip dance class to hang out with Jonas.
She’ll never be a professional dancer. Not if she skips classes and stuff. That’s not the way to further her dance career. It really isn’t.
Eight
“Again!” Dana says, and the twelve of us take up our starting positions. I could do this part blindfolded, I think as I count out the beats and move into action. It’s my second week, and only my third class, but I’ve been practicing so much I feel like I’ve been working on this dance forever.
“One and two and three and…” calls Dana from the front of the room.
We’re working on a short sequence toward the end of the song, and the timing is tricky. I end up moving forward too soon. Dana stops the music and says, “Lila, your timing is off!” We try again. Two minutes later she calls out, “Lila, your timing!” I grit my teeth and focus on counting the steps in my head.
For the next section of the music, the twelve of us split into four groups. Bea, Eve and Sam do a wide hip circle, twirl to face the back of the room and fast shimmy for three beats, then twirl back to the front and…oops, Bea trips in the twirl and stumbles ever so slightly.
Dana stops the music. “Again!” she calls.
Eve’s face is creased with frustration as they go through the short sequence again. “Two and three and,” she counts as they start the shimmy. Bea gets it right this time, and they move from the twirl into a figure eight in the hips. Their right hips sway from back to front, and then they shift their weight to their right legs as their left hips sway from back to front.
But once again Bea messes up. Eve throws up her arms, and Dana says, “Get some water, everyone, while I work with Bea on this.”
Bea’s face is scarlet as we all move to the edges of the room.
Eve has that brittleness about her again, and when we meet next to the water bottles, she sighs heavily. For the whole time we wait for Dana and Bea to run through the sequence, Eve never takes her eyes off Bea. Man, the girl is focused. I guess that’s what makes her such a good dancer. But I hope she never turns that look on me. It makes me shiver to think about it.
We stop several more times through the class. Three more times for Bea and a couple more times for me. It’s like I can’t do anything right today. By the end of class our nerves are ragged, and we’re all sweating like pigs.
“Good work today, girls,” Dana says as we file out of the room.
“Phew, she’s tough,” I say to Robin as we pull on our shoes.
“Yeah, don’t you like it?” she asks.
I sigh and then take a deep breath. “I love it,” I say. “Maybe not at the moment, as she’s drilling me in a movement over and over and over again, but later, when I get it, then I love it.”
“Me too,” says Robin. “She’s made me the dancer I am.”
“I know what you mean. Dana doesn’t put up with any sloppiness. Like how she’s always getting us for posture and stuff.”
“Exactly,” says Robin.
She waves goodbye as she leaves the room, and I pull on my sweater and gather my bag. As I walk past the door to the studio, I see Eve and Bea in the room, talking to Dana. I wonder what they’re talking about. I don’t think I’d want to be part of that conversation.
* * *
At Monday’s class, it’s clear that Bea has spent her whole weekend practicing, and even Eve seems pleased with her after our first run-through. I practiced a lot too, so Dana only has to stop for me once to go over the muscles I should be using in my chest lifts. I concentrate really hard on using my upper back and upper abs in the proper sequence as we go through the choreography a second time. Dana doesn’t say anything, but by this time I’ve learned that’s a good thing.
When we break, I find myself standing next to Bea, so between gulps of water I s
ay, “You danced beautifully today, Bea.”
She beams at me and says, “Robin and Alex and I got together on the weekend to practice. They drilled me, and I’m feeling pretty good.”
“That was nice of them,” I say.
“Yeah, they were so helpful. I don’t want to get kicked out now.”
“Dana wouldn’t do that,” I say, but Bea cocks her eyebrow at me and says, “She might. And Eve wouldn’t mind if she did.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” I say, but Bea grimaces, and I think of the conversation I saw at the end of last class between Bea, Eve and Dana. Probably that’s what it was about.
“Well, anyway, you looked great just now,” I say. “I’m sure she won’t kick you out.”
“Thanks, Lila.”
We put our water bottles down and head back to the center of the room. As I stretch and settle into my posture for the next run-through, I glance over at Robin. I wish they had included me in their weekend sessions.
By the end of class, I feel like I could perform this dance for the queen. Every move, every gesture, feels familiar and right. I’m breathing fast and sweating hard, but it’s a relief to know the dance so well.
As we gather up our water bottles and head toward the door to the lobby, Eve puts her hand on my shoulder and says, “You’re really coming along, Lila. I’m glad Amala sent you over. You have a good chance of being one of the girls chosen to perform in the festival.”
“What?” I ask stupidly. “Aren’t we all going to?”
Eve tosses her ponytail over her shoulder and arches her eyebrows at me. “Ten of us are,” she says.
There are twelve of us.
My face must give away my confusion, because Eve says, “Didn’t you know you were being auditioned?”
I shake my head, because I can’t speak. I feel like such an idiot. There I was, so happy that Dana was giving me all that attention, correcting tiny aspects of posture or gesture, and proud of myself for learning the dance so quickly, when all along she’s been sussing me, trying to decide if I’m going to be one of the girls who gets cut from the troupe for the performance.