The Chicken Dance

  I said, “Stanley, what am I going to do? I don’t want to take that class,” and he told me, “Don, don’t worry. You may like it, and all the other kids will think you’re cool because you know how to dance and they don’t. You might even win a trophy, and maybe Mother will put it up next to Dawn’s.”

  I thought about this and wondered if I won a trophy if it would be a boy trophy, and if it was, if my mother would put it next to Dawn’s. I thought she might, and then I thought that maybe taking a dance class wouldn’t be so bad.

  Well, there were two grown-up ladies and a bunch of girls in leotards about my age, but no other boys. I thought I saw another one but then I realized that I was just seeing myself in one of the mirrors that covered the walls. On those mirrors was a long railing about four feet from the ground, and some of the girls were standing on one leg and had their other one on the railing. I didn’t think I could do that because it looked like it hurt. I wanted to run out of the class but this lady wearing a black leotard walked up to my mother and me and said, “Good to see you again, Mrs. Schmidt.”

  My mother said, “Good to see you too. This is Don, whom we spoke about. He’s very excited about becoming a dancer.”

  The woman looked at me and smiled and said, “Nice to meet you, Don. I’m Ms. Mary and I’m going to be your dance teacher.”

  I said, “Okay,” and then Ms. Mary said, “Well, let’s get started.”

  She clapped her hands together and said, “Girls, let’s get started.”

  All the girls ran over to Ms. Mary and then she said, “Class, we have a new student today. His name is Don Schmidt, and I think we all recognize him as the youngest boy to ever win the chicken-judging contest at the Dairy Festival. Let’s give him a hand.”

  They all clapped, and some of them laughed and whispered into each other’s ears. My mother smiled and clapped along with them until the teacher told her that she’d have to leave when the class started.

  My mother smiled at Ms. Mary and asked, “May I speak to you?”

  Ms. Mary looked at the girls and said, “All right, girls, go and line up in the formation I put you in last class.”

  She turned to my mother and said, “What would you like to speak to me about?”

  My mother leaned toward Ms. Mary and I moved a little closer to them so I could hear. My mother asked, “What if I threw in fifteen dollars cash and an extra dozen eggs a week. Would you let me stay and watch my son?”

  Ms. Mary looked up in the air and then said, “Fifteen dollars and two dozen and we have a deal,” and my mother said, “Deal,” and then the two of them shook hands.

  A few minutes later I had changed into some shorts my mother had brought for me. Ms. Mary made me stretch and then said, “Now, Don, since you’re joining the class late, I think you and I should work alone so you can catch up. We’ll try without music first, and then once you have it down, we’ll do it with music. Sylvia, can you work with the rest of the class while I work with Don?”

  The piano player nodded her head up and down and then walked over to the girls. Ms. Mary brought me to a corner of the room and my mother followed right behind us. Her heels tapped on the wooden floor and Ms. Mary turned and looked at her and then back at me and said, “Now, Don, all we’re going to work on here today is ‘kick, step, step, kick.’ Now watch my feet. You see how I ‘kick, step, step, kick’?”

  I watched Ms. Mary kick, step, step, kick a bunch of times, and then she told me to try. I kicked, and then I stepped, and then I kicked again, and Ms. Mary said, “No, Don, kick, step, step, kick.”

  I tried again but this time I stepped, and then kicked, and then stepped.

  Ms. Mary said, “No, Don. Watch me again. Kick, step, step, kick. Do you understand?”

  I said, “Yes, ma’am,” and then I tried, but I kicked, and then kicked again, and before I took the step, Ms. Mary yelled at me, “Pay attention, Don! I said, kick, step, step, kick,” and then my mother yelled, “Come on, Don, I’m paying good money for this. Pay attention!”

  As hard as I tried, though, I couldn’t get it, and the last time I did it wrong, Ms. Mary yelled, “No, Don! No! Kick, step, step, kick. You were the winner of the chicken-judging contest, so surely you can grasp this.”

  Then my mother yelled, “If you really want it, you can achieve it,” and then she made a fist and shook it.

  Ms. Mary let out a couple of deep breaths and then said, “Why don’t you watch for the rest of the time today and you can practice at home.”

  On the way home my mother told me that even though my talent was raw, she was sure she could mold it because she had what people in show business called, “It.” Then she told me, “We’ll have to work really hard because you have a recital coming up in a month and a half.”

  I knew what a recital was because of all the times my mother had talked about Dawn’s recitals, but I couldn’t help asking my mother, “What?”

  My mother turned and said, “A recital. You know, normally Ms. Mary wouldn’t let anyone start her class in the middle of the session and then dance in the recital, but let’s just say that your mother has a way with words and was able to persuade her to let you be in it. Aren’t you excited?”

  I wasn’t excited because I didn’t want to dance in front of a bunch of people. Going to class and dancing in front of those girls was hard enough and I didn’t think I could do it onstage in front of a bunch of people. But I didn’t know how to tell my mother. Then I started thinking about this episode of The Brady Bunch. You see, Cindy had a dance recital and she didn’t want to be in it, so she decided to pretend that she hurt her ankle so she wouldn’t have to. It didn’t work because her mother noticed that sometimes she limped on her left ankle and then sometimes on her right. I thought it was a good idea and that if I did it, I would be a lot smarter than Cindy had been and only limp on my right. I figured that my mother wouldn’t make me take dance if I had a hurt ankle and so I planned on falling right after dinner that night.

  I decided to fall after I finished my dessert and a few minutes before Three’s Company started, because I liked dessert and thought Janet, Crissy, and Jack were really funny on the show. So I untied one of my shoestrings and moved my tray onto the side of my chair and stood up. Before I could take a step and fall, though, my mother said, “Come on, Don. Let’s go to the kitchen.”

  I didn’t know why my mother wanted me to go to the kitchen, and it kind of shocked me, so I forgot about pretending to hurt my ankle and followed her. When we got in the kitchen, she told me, “Now, Don, I think we need to practice those steps. If you want to be a great dancer like me and Dawn, you’re going to need to practice every chance you can.”

  I didn’t want to practice the dance steps. I wanted to fall and pretend to hurt my ankle and then sit and watch Three’s Company. But then I started thinking that it might be better if I fell while I was practicing dancing because my mother would feel bad for making me dance and fall. So I pretended like I really wanted to dance and asked, “Do you want me to stretch first?”

  She smiled and said, “That’s a good idea, Don!”

  I bent over and my mother pushed on my back and then I started to feel funny because the blood started rushing to my head. It was hard for me to breathe, and my legs and back hurt so much that I couldn’t take it anymore, and I had to stand up. My mother backed up from me and said, “What’s wrong?”

  “I felt dizzy,” I told her.

  “Well, get ready for a lot of dizzy days and nights,” she told me. “Dancing isn’t easy, you know.”

  I said, “Okay,” and thought about falling then, but then my mother grabbed my hand and squeezed it and said, “This is going to be so much fun.”

  Her hand was real soft and warm and I kind of liked the way it felt, and I thought maybe if I practiced with her a little that she might grab my hand some more, so I decided not to fall until the end of the night.

  My mother let go of my hand and said, “I have a surprise for you,” and
then she pulled a box out of the kitchen cabinet and gave it to me. It was wrapped in red paper and had a silver bow, and while I looked at it, waiting for my mother to tell me what it was, she said, “Go ahead and open it.”

  Inside the box was a pair of black shoes, which I wasn’t that excited about because I already had a pair of black shoes, but I still told her, “Thanks for the shoes,” and my mother said, “Those aren’t just shoes, Don. They’re jazz oxfords.”

  They looked like shoes to me, but my mother picked one of them up and bent it and said, “You see how it bends? And there’s a low heel so it’s easier for you to move. Here, put them on.”

  After I put them on my mother asked, “How do they feel?”

  I said, “Okay,” and then she said, “Good. Now sit right there and watch me dance. I want you to pay close attention to the steps I take and then I’ll let you try.”

  I think I watched my mother kick, step, step, kick for like a million times, and then I tried it. I couldn’t do it, and so I tried it again and I still couldn’t do it, and I didn’t think that I’d ever be able to do it, but then my mother did something really strange.

  She told me to take off my jazz oxfords and then she took off her shoes and told me, “Come here.”

  She grabbed me by the shoulders until the back of my head was touching her stomach. Then she said, “Now stand on my feet and I’m going to do the steps with you.”

  At first I didn’t think I’d heard her right so I told her, “I don’t understand.”

  “Step on my feet,” she said. “I’ll hold you, and I’ll do the steps, and that way you can do them with me.”

  I got on her feet and she held me tight and kicked, stepped, stepped, and kicked. My feet moved along with hers, but the first few times she did it, I was in too much shock to really pay attention. After a few more times, I got used to it and could feel what she was doing. I really thought I could do it by myself, but I didn’t say anything because I liked standing on top of her feet and having her arms around my shoulders. I guess her feet got tired because she was the one who said it was time for me to try it on my own.

  So I got off of her feet and then tried the dance step that she’d been trying to teach me all night. I thought about how my feet felt on top of hers and I kicked, stepped, stepped, kicked, and then my mother screamed and put her face in her hands and yelled, “That’s it, Don! That’s it! You’ve done it! I told you that you could do it, and you did!”

  Before I knew what was going on, my mother hugged me. It was the first time I could ever remember her doing it. It was only for a few seconds, but it felt so warm and soft, like when I got under the electric blanket on a really cold night. And during that hug is when I decided that I wouldn’t fall and pretend to hurt my ankle.

  Fifteen

  I was kind of nervous about telling Leon that I was taking a dance class, but when I finally did, he just smiled and said, “Dude, that’s kind of cool because you get to be around all those girls.”

  I was real happy that Leon didn’t make fun of me, and for the next few weeks I thought that it was really cool that I got to go to dance class on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays and then dance with my mother every night in the kitchen. It made me even happier when I thought about winning a trophy that I could put next to Dawn’s. But then the day before my recital, everything changed and I stopped liking to dance and I wasn’t happy anymore.

  It was a Saturday and my mother and I were at Horse Island Food and Furniture. When we walked in, she told me to go get some paper towels and to meet her in the frozen food section. When I got to the aisle where the paper towels were, I saw Mr. Leonard and Leon. They didn’t see me walk up at first and I heard Mr. Leonard tell Leon, “Now, these paper towels are twenty-five percent off of four dollars. Why do you think it’s on sale? You think it’s some of that stuff that’s used already?”

  Leon shrugged his shoulders and said, “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t risk it to save two dollars.”

  Mr. Leonard looked at Leon and said, “My boy, we wouldn’t be saving two dollars. We’d be saving two dollars and fifty cents. Don’t you pay attention in school? Your problem is that you think going to school is useless, but now you see, my boy, you can use this stuff everywhere.”

  Mr. Leonard shook his head from side to side and raised his voice and said, “You know, I don’t even think you try. I mean, it embarrasses me sometimes, Leon, that my son’s a dummy.”

  Leon took a couple of steps away from his dad and then looked at me. I guess Mr. Leonard saw Leon staring at me because he turned toward me and asked, “How you doing, Don?”

  I told him that I was okay and he said, “You know, Don. I wish you’d do me a favor. You’re a pretty smart boy. I wish you’d tell Leon here that he needs to start paying attention in class. I mean, the boy can’t even do simple math.”

  I didn’t know if I should tell Mr. Leonard that I would help Leon study or that I liked his shirt or that he would save one dollar on the paper towels if it was on sale for twenty-five percent off of four dollars. I decided not to say anything and instead just walked over and grabbed the paper towels that we used and hoped that Mr. Leonard would forget that he’d spoken to me. He didn’t forget, though, and asked, “Don, what did you get on your last report card in Math?”

  I squeezed the paper towels and told him, “I got an A.”

  Mr. Leonard looked at Leon and said, “Did you hear that, my boy? He got an A and you got an F. I think you need to spend more time studying so you can be more like Don here. Starting today, Leon, you’re punished until your grades get better. That means no more television or running around with your friends.”

  Leon didn’t say anything and then Mr. Leonard said in this really loud voice, “You hear me, my boy?”

  Leon nodded his head up and down and then looked at me. His face was red and it almost looked like he was more mad at me than he was at his dad. It was kind of weird being there so I took a couple of steps back and tried to walk away without saying anything. But then Mr. Leonard turned and looked at me and said, “Tell your momma and daddy I said hi.”

  I said, “Yes, sir,” and then walked away real quick to the frozen food section to find my mother. She was there with Mrs. Leonard and when I walked up, Mrs. Leonard looked at me and said, “Well, if it isn’t Fred Astaire himself. You know, your mother has told me all about your dance classes. I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to go to your recital tomorrow because I’m going out of town for a hair convention. I’m very upset about it because I’ve heard how hard you’ve been working. Hey, how about a little preview, Don?”

  My mother clapped her hands and said, “That’s a wonderful idea. We can do it right here and I’ll do it with him.”

  I didn’t want to dance in the middle of the frozen food section of the grocery store because I thought it was stupid. I was already kind of scared about dancing at the recital in front of all those people, but at least they were going there to see me dance. Nobody had come to Horse Island Food and Furniture to watch me dance, and so I didn’t want to, but then my mother started singing the song “He’s So Shy” and tapping her feet.

  “Come on, Don,” she said. “Dance.”

  I stood still and Mrs. Leonard said, “It’s okay, Janice, he doesn’t have to dance if he doesn’t want to.”

  “Oh, he wants to dance, Lucy,” she said. “He’s just a little modest, like his mother. Come on, Don. You shouldn’t keep talent like that to yourself.”

  My mother starting singing again and dancing and customers in the store stopped shopping and watched her. My mother stopped singing and yelled out, “Attention, everyone! Don is making his dance debut tomorrow at The Dance Loft’s recital. I’m trying to convince him that he should give us a little preview, but he’s being modest. Maybe you can help me by cheering him on. On the count of three, everybody repeat ‘Dance,’ until he does.”

  People started clapping and yelling, “Dance, Don, dance! Dance, Don, dance! Dance,
Don, dance!”

  After a few minutes there were about twenty people surrounding my mother and me yelling, “Dance, Don, dance!”

  I started to get hot and I thought about running away, but there were a bunch of people surrounding me, and I knew my mother would punish me. I couldn’t just stand there anymore because people kept cheering and clapping. I knew they wouldn’t stop until I danced, so I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, took a step, and then kicked my leg forward.

  The people stopped yelling “Dance, Don, dance!” and started yelling “He’s going to do it! Yeah! All right!”

  Then my mother said, “All right, everybody, quiet down so I can sing and he can hear the music.”

  My mother started singing and dancing next to me. We kicked and stepped and kicked and spun around. I kept my eyes closed and felt dizzy and didn’t think I’d be able to make it through the whole song. Thankfully after the first chorus, my mother stopped singing and said, “All right, everybody, that’s it for today. If you want to see more, you’ll have to come to the recital tomorrow.”

  People clapped and said things like, “Good job, Don. You were great.”

  My mother laughed and clapped her hands together and looked at me and said, “God, that was fun, wasn’t it?”

  It wasn’t fun. I thought it was the worst thing in the world and that it couldn’t get any worse, until I turned and saw Leon staring at us. That’s when he said, “Nice dancing,” and walked away.

  It was the first time since I’d won the chicken-judging contest that Leon had been mean to me and I didn’t really know why. It didn’t make sense to me because he’d told me that he didn’t care that I was taking a dance class. He even said he thought that it was kind of cool because I got to be with all those girls. But at the grocery store that day, when he said, “Nice dancing,” I could tell that he thought it was stupid and that’s when I didn’t want to dance anymore.

  I talked to Stanley about it that whole afternoon, night, and the next morning and I still didn’t know what I was going to do a few hours before the recital. I decided to talk to KC about it and see if she could help me figure it out. I told her, “I hate dancing. At first I kind of liked it, but now I hate it because my mother made me do it in the grocery store and now Leon doesn’t want to be my friend. I don’t want to dance and I can’t even remember the steps to the song.”