Shimmy (4 page)
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.
“A
gain!” 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 say, “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.
“It makes sense,” Eve goes on as we enter the lobby and she pulls her hoodie and shoes out of the cupboard. “I mean, of course Dana wants more girls than she needs, so she can choose the best ones. It’s how any professional
dance group works.” She zips up her hoodie and slips on her shoes.
The lightness I felt at the end of class disappears, and my boots feel like they’re made of concrete as I shuffle down the stairs behind Eve and out of the building to the bus stop. For the whole ride home, all I can think about is what a dolt I’ve been. It makes me sick to my stomach to think about it.
I
toss and turn all night, dreaming I’m in dance class and that at every beat of the music Dana stops me to correct my posture or movement. Each time, I’m sure I’m standing or moving properly, but when I look down, I’m all wrong, and I have two left feet, and I’m dressed like a construction worker with overalls and tools hanging from my pockets. It makes the night seem to last forever, and in the morning I have to drag myself out of bed, and I miss the first bus again. When I slide into the seat next to Angela in English, she says, “Ouch. What happened to you?”
“I have so much to tell you,” I say.
“Me too,” she says.
It’s hard to pay attention in class because I’m so tired, and twice Angela nudges me awake. I try
to talk to her at lunch, but Nini and Sarit don’t get the hint that we want to be alone, and they chat at us for the whole hour. Angela keeps looking at me funny across the picnic table, which must be because I keep nodding off, and by the time school is out, all I want to do is head home for a nap. Thank goodness there’s no dance class tonight.
Angela has to talk to Mrs. O’Connor about her
To Kill a Mockingbird
essay, so I head to the study lounge to wait for her. I haven’t even started my essay. I guess now’s a good time, but my eyes are so blurry that even though I stare at the page until Angela comes to find me, I have no idea what the instructions say.
“So,” I say once we’re settled on the bus. “It turns out Dana is only going to have ten girls on the stage, not twelve, so all this time, she’s been auditioning me. I can hardly believe it! There I was, being so proud that she was paying all that attention to me when all along she was checking me out. Every time she corrected my footwork I’d think, She’s paying attention to me to make me perfect, but actually she was noticing how sloppy my footwork was.”
“I’m sure that’s not true, Lila. I’m sure she was trying to make you perfect.”
“You think? You don’t think she was looking for how terrible a dancer I am?”
“Of course not! I heard Dana say she approved of you as Amala’s choice to go dance with her. I know she thinks you’re a great dancer. She wouldn’t have you there if she didn’t, would she? I mean, she’s trying to put together the best-possible troupe for the festival, so even if she is only taking ten of the twelve girls, those twelve girls have to be the best around.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I say. Angela’s long hair falls into my shoulder, and I wrap my fingers in its silky smoothness. “It’s so amazing, Angela, dancing with someone who’s so thorough. I mean, sometimes it makes me panicky, like last night, but mostly, I admire her and the girls who dance with her so much. I don’t know if I’m good enough, you know?”