New Moves

by Margaret Gurevich

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Chapter 1: New Class

  Chapter 2: Inside Jokes

  Chapter 3: Dancing Duo

  Chapter 4: What’s the Problem?

  Chapter 5: Too Much Contemp

  Chapter 6: Just Dance

  Chapter 7: My Fault?

  Chapter 8: Apologies

  Chapter 9: Home Stretch

  Chapter 10: Showtime

  Glossary

  Talk About It!

  Write About It!

  More About Contemporary Dance

  About the Author

  About the Illustrator

  Explore More

  Copyright

  Back Cover

  CHAPTER 1

  New Class

  I place my leg on the barre, bring my chest to my knee, and take a deep breath in as I stretch before my dance class. Chatter outside the studio doesn’t distract me. There are always other dancers in the hallway at Ms. Marianne’s Academy of Dance.

  Today is an especially exciting day at the studio—it’s the start of the new contemporary dance team. When I saw the flyer, I jumped at the chance to try out. I’ve seen contemporary dancers at dance competitions. I love how the discipline combines jazz, ballet, and more.

  I’m already on the jazz team, and all dancers at Ms. Marianne’s are required to take ballet class. The chance to learn so many different styles of dance and be a part of multiple teams is what makes Ms. Marianne’s so special.

  I switch sides, lift my right leg to the barre, and grab my toe for a deeper stretch. Someone taps on the studio window. I look up and spot my three best friends, Jada Grant, Brie Benson, and Grace Jenkins. They wave and hurry off to their own classes—ballet, hip-hop, and tap.

  Just then a dark-haired girl I don’t recognize hurries in and grabs a spot beside me at the barre. She flashes me a friendly smile.

  “I’m so excited for this class,” she says. “Mr. Viktor was a teacher at my old dance school. Following him here was a no-brainer!”

  “No wonder I haven’t seen you before!” I say. “I’m Gabby.”

  “I’m Sophie,” she says. “You’re going to love Mr. Viktor’s energy!”

  “Did other students from your dance school come here too?” I ask.

  Sophie shakes her head. “No, just me. Contemp is my favorite. I’ve only been taking it for a year, but I’ve taken ballet for a few years.” She pauses. “It’s kind of hard being the new girl. Everyone seems to have their friend groups here.”

  I nod. I remember when Jada was new here and how hard it was for her. I decide to get to know Sophie and include her in our group.

  Just then a tall, muscular man in a navy leotard and black shorts walks into the room. “Welcome to contemporary dance!” he calls. “My name is Mr. Viktor, and I’m excited to be joining Ms. Marianne’s as your new contemporary dance instructor. Let’s get some basics out of the way. Our class will meet every Monday and Thursday.”

  One of the dancers raises her hand. “Will we be competing?” she asks.

  Mr. Viktor shakes his head. “Not yet. But in three weeks, we’ll do a sampling to show the rest of Ms. Marianne’s students a variety of contemp moves. This will give everyone a taste of what contemp is and encourage them to try the class.”

  Enthusiastic voices buzz around me.

  Mr. Viktor claps his hands. “Quiet, please. Contemp is about free movement, letting your body do the talking,” he says. “I know many of you are new to contemporary dance, so let’s start with a move you all should know from ballet, the tilt.”

  I bring my left leg to my right knee, then tilt my hip as I raise my leg to the side. It’s like a standing side leg lift. I make sure my toe is pointed and my leg is straight.

  “What do you notice about everyone’s tilts?” asks Mr. Viktor.

  Everyone scans the room. I notice Sophie’s leg isn’t as straight as mine, and her foot is flexed. Some dancers’ legs are more turned out than others.

  I timidly raise my hand. “Everyone’s moves look a little different?”

  “Exactly!” Mr. Viktor says. “Unlike in jazz and ballet, where each move is precise, contemporary is about feeling the music and doing the moves in ways that speak to you. Let’s try the tilt again.”

  I raise my left leg to my right knee and tilt my hip. But this time when I raise my leg to the side I don’t worry about it being perfectly straight or keeping my toe pointed. I focus less on perfect alignment and just do what feels right. The move flows more easily.

  “Bravo!” yells Mr. Viktor. “In contemporary each move flows into the other. It’s not clear where one move begins and the other ends. I want to see a fouetté next.”

  A fouetté turn, or whipped turn, is another move everyone knows from ballet. I stand with my right foot flat on the ground, knee bent. I extend my left leg and whip it around to the side. It grazes the back of my right knee, then moves to the front of the knee as I turn.

  “Freer!” says Mr. Viktor. “Melt into the moves. Your body is Jell-O. Watch me.”

  He demonstrates the turn. His foot is flat like mine, but not as turned out. He extends his left leg and whips it around to the side, just like I did. The difference with Mr. Viktor’s fouetté is that each step is not distinct. His leg extends and whips in one movement as he turns. It’s so quick, it’s impossible to tell whether the knee is bent or not.

  In ballet class Ms. Marianne is always telling us to imagine strings pulling our arms and legs. Now I pretend I’m a rag doll instead. It feels like a disaster, but Mr. Viktor claps his hands.

  “That’s it!” he shouts. “Be the wind!”

  Sophie and I both bite our lips to keep from laughing.

  “Hands curved in front of you … and mix the soup!” Mr. Viktor calls. He curves his arms in front of his stomach like he’s holding a huge beach ball and moves them in a circular motion.

  I follow his movements, feeling a little silly. I hope contemporary dance will feel more natural the more I do it.

  “Bravo, ladies!” Mr. Viktor says. “Let’s add the needle. Watch me.”

  He places his hands on the hardwood floor. Keeping one leg on the ground, he lifts the other high in the air behind him.

  “Your legs should be in the six o’clock position,” he explains. “The leg on the floor is on the six, and the one in the air is on the twelve. You try.”

  I follow Mr. Viktor’s lead, straightening my legs so they look like the hands of a clock and keeping my body in perfect alignment.

  “Again! Smoother!” he says.

  This time I let my torso flop down and raise my leg into position, not worrying about how straight it is.

  “Yes!” Mr. Viktor cheers. “Melt! You are butter!”

  I peek at Sophie, who’s quietly giggling. I quickly turn away so I don’t start laughing.

  As class comes to an end Mr. Viktor says, “Practice the tilt, fouetté, and needle for Thursday’s class. Don’t worry about how precise each move is. Focus on flowing from one move to the next.”

  “That was fun,” I say to Sophie as we leave the studio.

  “Aren’t Mr. Viktor’s sayings great?” she replies.

  I nod. “Are you butter or margarine?” I ask, giggling.

  She taps her lips with her index finger. “Cream cheese,” she says finally.

  We laugh all the way to the locker room. After getting changed, we grab our stuff and head for the exit.

  “I’ll see you at the all-team ballet class on Wednesday
, right?” I ask.

  “Definitely!” Sophie says. She waves as she turns a corner.

  The all-team ballet class is a blast. There’s nothing more fun than dancing with my three best friends. I can’t wait to introduce them to Sophie. I’m sure they’ll want to include her too.

  CHAPTER 2

  Inside Jokes

  Two days later, Grace, Brie, Jada, and I are at the barre before ballet class. I keep looking for Sophie. I’m sure my friends will love her. Five minutes before class, she rushes through the door.

  “You guys, this is Sophie,” I say, as she does a mock bow. “She’s new here. I met her Monday at my contemporary dance class.”

  “Nice to meet you, Sophie,” Jada says.

  “You’ll love Ms. Marianne’s!” Grace adds.

  “Ladies,” says Jada, adopting Ms. Marianne’s no-nonsense tone, “it’s almost time to begin.”

  Sophie laughs. “I guess all ballet instructors sound the same.”

  We fool around and exaggerate our leaps and twirls. Suddenly Sophie sways wildly from side to side and sings, “Be the wind!”

  I crack up. Grace, Brie, and Jada look confused.

  “The wind?” asks Grace.

  Sophie and I can’t stop laughing. “Mr. Viktor,” I finally sputter.

  “From contemp class,” Sophie adds, still cracking up.

  My friends still look confused. Brie looks from me to Sophie then back to me. “I guess we had to be there,” she says softly.

  Why does Brie sound sad? I wonder. The four of us laugh about stuff all the time.

  Before I can explain further, Ms. Marianne walks into the studio. Her salt-and-pepper hair is tied back into a tight bun, and a yellow scarf pops against her black leotard. She claps her hands to begin, and we all take our places at the barre.

  “Pliés first, ladies!” she calls. We all bend our knees and sink down obediently.

  “Lovely!” says Ms. Marianne. “Line up for grand jetés.”

  Sophie lines up behind me. “Your body is Jell-O,” she whispers as we wait our turns.

  I snort in my attempt to hold in a laugh. Ahead of me, Brie and Grace turn and frown.

  Sorry, I mouth, still trying not to laugh. When it’s my turn, I leap across the floor, legs spilt.

  “Adagios!” Ms. Marianne calls as we finish the grand jetés.

  I bend my leg and raise it behind me. Then I rise to my toes for relevé. As class winds down, it starts sprinkling outside. Rain pelts the big picture window in the studio, and Sophie whispers, “Be the rain.”

  This time I can’t hold in my laughter.

  “Shhh,” Jada hisses.

  I blush. “Sorry.”

  Ms. Marianne gives me the evil eye, and I compose myself.

  When class is over, I playfully elbow Sophie. “I thought Ms. Marianne might kick us out!”

  “I’m surprised she didn’t,” Jada says dryly.

  Grace wrinkles her nose. “Yeah, you guys were a bit much.”

  I look at my friends, feeling hurt. It’s not like the four of us have never goofed around in class. I was just having fun with my new friend, trying to make her feel more comfortable.

  “Were you annoyed too, Brie?” I ask.

  Brie shifts from one leg to the other. “It was a little distracting,” she says quietly.

  Sophie looks away and doesn’t say anything. I thought my BFFs would be happy to meet a new friend. But instead they’re making her feel unwelcome.

  Brie forces a smile. “Who’s up for after-ballet pizza?” she asks.

  “Me!” says Grace.

  “Always,” adds Jada.

  Grace, Jada, and Brie all glance over at Sophie and me. Sophie swallows and looks uncomfortable.

  “I, um, I might just go home and practice some more for tomorrow’s class,” she says. “We have our sampling in three weeks. I want to make a good impression since I’m new here, you know?”

  I feel even worse. My friends’ behavior made me feel like Sophie and I did something wrong. I don’t want her to feel left out.

  “Can I come?” I ask Sophie. “I could use the practice!”

  Sophie’s face lights up. “That would be awesome!”

  Grace heaves her gym bag over her shoulder. “But you always come out for pizza after ballet,” she says.

  “We really need to practice… .” I say. “You guys understand, right?”

  The corners of Jada’s mouth pull up into a strained smile. “It’s cool,” she says. “We’ll catch up with you both another time.”

  She, Grace, and Brie grab the rest of their stuff and head out, barely saying another word.

  “They seemed a little upset,” says Sophie when my friends are gone.

  I agree, but I don’t want Sophie to feel worse. “Nah, they’re probably just hungry.”

  I tell myself the same thing. My friends being upset I chose dance over pizza just doesn’t make sense.

  CHAPTER 3

  Dancing Duo

  Sophie rummages in her bag for her house key and unlocks the door. It’s so quiet compared to my house, where I live with my mom and abuela.

  “Where is everybody?” I ask.

  “My mom’s at work, and my dad works the night shift, so he’s still sleeping,” Sophie explains. She hands me a brownie from the plate on the kitchen table. “Here, my dad made these.“

  I tear into mine, suddenly famished.

  Sophie shoves the brownie into her mouth. “Oh good, we’re not being polite,” she says.

  I laugh, almost choking. The tension I felt with my friends disappears.

  After we eat, I follow Sophie into her family room. There’s a large open space in the middle. “We can practice here,” she says.

  Sophie rises to her toes and curves her arms in front. She does a fouetté in the center of the room.

  “Mix the soup!” I call.

  She bursts out laughing and loses her balance. “Stop distracting me,” she says, still giggling.

  “Sorry,” I say. “Continue.”

  Sophie closes her eyes so I won’t distract her. I notice how easily she flows from one move to the next—tilt to fouetté to needle.

  “Your turns are so good,” I say. “How do you do that?”

  Sophie smiles. “I try to let my body go.”

  “Like Jell-O?” I joke.

  “Mr. Viktor’s sayings are silly,” says Sophie, “but they’re spot-on. The moves don’t have to be exact. Just flow from one move to the next.”

  I try to follow Sophie’s advice, moving from the tilt to fouetté. I relax my muscles as my leg swings behind me and then out front. I close my eyes and move my torso in the same direction as my arms. For the needle, I let my body relax as I place my hands on the floor and lift my left leg to the ceiling.

  “That’s it!” yells Sophie excitedly.

  I beam. “Let’s try it together!”

  Sophie and I stand in opposite corners. We raise our legs to the side for the tilt, then twirl toward each other for the fouetté.

  “We make a good team,” I say.

  “No doubt.” Sophie fist-bumps me.

  We spend the next hour practicing. By the time I’m ready to go home, the earlier weirdness with my friends is behind me—almost.

  CHAPTER 4

  What’s the Problem?

  “How was pizza?” I ask Grace, Brie, and Jada the next afternoon.

  “Jada decided to try the jalapeño pie,” Brie says, giggling.

  “Big mistake!” Jada adds with a laugh. “I spit a pepper all over the table and—”

  “Sophie made me laugh so hard yesterday, I almost spit out my brownie!” I interrupt.

  Jada frowns, but Grace bumps my hip and says, “We missed you.”

  “I missed
you guys too,” I say. “But Sophie and I had so much fun.”

  Brie pauses, then asks, “What did you guys do?”

  “Mostly practiced, but Sophie is so great. She’s an awesome dancer and—”

  “Sounds cool,” says Grace, cutting me off.

  I frown. What’s their problem? I just want my friends to like Sophie as much as I do.

  “She’s really funny,” I continue. That’s another thing Sophie and my friends have in common.

  “Sounds like it,” Brie says quietly.

  “Do you guys want to hit the mall this weekend?” Jada asks, changing the subject. “I could use some retail therapy.”

  “That would be great!” I say. “I’ll see if Sophie wants to join.”

  “Oh … I don’t know …” Jada begins. She, Brie, and Grace exchange a look I can’t quite read.

  Why do they keep looking at each other? I wonder. Do they not want to hang out with Sophie?

  I keep talking, hoping to convince them. “Come on. Dance store, food court, window shopping …”

  “Those are my favorite things,” Grace says.

  I look expectantly at Brie and Jada.

  “Let’s do it,” Brie says. Jada nods too.

  Once they get to know Sophie, they’ll want to spend time with her too, I tell myself. She’ll fit into the group in no time. I’m sure of it.

  * * *

  Saturday afternoon, Sophie and I sit on a mall bench and wait for my friends. “This is going to be great!” I say, trying to convince us both.

  “I hope so,” Sophie says, looking nervous.

  Finally Brie, Jada, and Grace walk in. Sophie’s smile pops into place, and I wave to my friends.

  “Who’s ready to shop?” Jada asks, grinning.

  “I’m so ready!” Sophie exclaims.

  “My kind of girl,” says Grace.

  I smile happily. Whatever was bugging my friends seems to have passed.

  We agree to head to the food court for a snack first, and in a few minutes, we’re chowing down.

  “Food court lo mein is the best,” Grace says, slurping her noodles.