lights. I took a deep breath, visualizing my toes pointing, my legs straight, and my shoulders lowered. I imagined a long neck and loose hands. Sarah had told me I danced with my hands too clenched up, but when I told her that’s because I do all those punches, she’d remind me that I shouldn’t be doing all those punches.
Too bad there wasn’t a French dance word for ninja attack.
We all took our spots. My parents were in the third row and Mom had her phone out, recording everything.
I tested out my calves. Not too bad. It didn’t look like Kassie was having any trouble, either. She was spinning in place like a ballerina in a music box, her black curls trying to keep up.
My eyes found her face. She never wore makeup. She didn’t need any. She’d rock the dark eyeliner every now and then at school, but never when she danced. No, when she was moving to music, she was just Kassie. No glitter, no product. Just—
I shook my head.
What was I doing? I’d missed my cue! I jumped in, already half a beat behind. I cut out a jump to make up for lost time and hit my mark behind Kassie. I was supposed to grab her arms, but I hesitated. My hands were sweaty. She was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt and I didn’t want to gross her out. Kassie leaned left and I snapped my hands up, forcing them down on her shoulders. She’d felt my sweaty hands a million times before. Why was I all of a sudden so worried about it?
Sarah’s drill-sergeant scream clawed into my brain. CONCENTRATE, STUPID! AND POINT YOUR TOES!
I spun, forcing my back into a stiff-as-a-board position. Normally I’d land and whip out a series of jabs and chops. I raised my arms, ready to hack the air in front of me. And hesitated. Real dancers didn’t punch.
Nothing I’d learned from Sarah would’ve fit, so I sliced through a field of imaginary boards toward the other end of the stage. Except I let my hands fall loose like Sarah had taught me. It felt so wrong. It looked like I was swatting away a wasp. My hands flapped and wiggled through the air like I had pieces of uncooked bacon on the ends of my wrists.
I caught a glimpse of Carson. He’d just come out of a spin and he was frowning, watching me wiggle around the stage like a moron. I pulled my arms back down. No more punches. I lowered my shoulders and wedgie-walked over to Kassie. I even added in a sissonne.
It didn’t feel half bad.
Didn’t feel half good, either.
Especially since I was so busy trying to be stiff and professional that I landed on Kassie’s foot.
She growled, pulled her shoe free, and side-glided away. I mirrored her moves as best I could, but it was no use. My mind was as far away from the music and the rhythm as it could possibly be. For the next two and a half minutes, I stumbled through moves, second-guessing every step I made. The only thing I didn’t mess up was when we all froze at the end.
The music faded out. Besides the applause from our parents, the most we got from the crowd was a few shrugs and the I guess we should clap sort of clapping. We left the stage. The announcer was blabbering on about Smoothietopia and a small break so the judges could make their decision. Not like we had anything to worry about. We were dead last because of me.
Kassie pulled me to the side. “Stop it,” she said, glaring.
“What?”
“Stop stomping around like that. You did great out there.”
I gave her the Are you being serious right now? look. She glanced at Carson like she was waiting for him to back her up.
“Oh, yeah,” he finally said. “You did your best. I think. That’s all that matters.”
“Whatever. I don’t have a best. I don’t even have a pretty good. ” I leaned hard against the back of the stage, making the entire thing wobble.
Our first and only dance competition and I’d ruined it.
An achy pinch gripped my throat and I almost lost it. I turned my head away. They didn’t care about winning, but still. Letting them down over and over hurt
Too bad there wasn’t a French dance word for ninja attack.
We all took our spots. My parents were in the third row and Mom had her phone out, recording everything.
I tested out my calves. Not too bad. It didn’t look like Kassie was having any trouble, either. She was spinning in place like a ballerina in a music box, her black curls trying to keep up.
My eyes found her face. She never wore makeup. She didn’t need any. She’d rock the dark eyeliner every now and then at school, but never when she danced. No, when she was moving to music, she was just Kassie. No glitter, no product. Just—
I shook my head.
What was I doing? I’d missed my cue! I jumped in, already half a beat behind. I cut out a jump to make up for lost time and hit my mark behind Kassie. I was supposed to grab her arms, but I hesitated. My hands were sweaty. She was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt and I didn’t want to gross her out. Kassie leaned left and I snapped my hands up, forcing them down on her shoulders. She’d felt my sweaty hands a million times before. Why was I all of a sudden so worried about it?
Sarah’s drill-sergeant scream clawed into my brain. CONCENTRATE, STUPID! AND POINT YOUR TOES!
I spun, forcing my back into a stiff-as-a-board position. Normally I’d land and whip out a series of jabs and chops. I raised my arms, ready to hack the air in front of me. And hesitated. Real dancers didn’t punch.
Nothing I’d learned from Sarah would’ve fit, so I sliced through a field of imaginary boards toward the other end of the stage. Except I let my hands fall loose like Sarah had taught me. It felt so wrong. It looked like I was swatting away a wasp. My hands flapped and wiggled through the air like I had pieces of uncooked bacon on the ends of my wrists.
I caught a glimpse of Carson. He’d just come out of a spin and he was frowning, watching me wiggle around the stage like a moron. I pulled my arms back down. No more punches. I lowered my shoulders and wedgie-walked over to Kassie. I even added in a sissonne.
It didn’t feel half bad.
Didn’t feel half good, either.
Especially since I was so busy trying to be stiff and professional that I landed on Kassie’s foot.
She growled, pulled her shoe free, and side-glided away. I mirrored her moves as best I could, but it was no use. My mind was as far away from the music and the rhythm as it could possibly be. For the next two and a half minutes, I stumbled through moves, second-guessing every step I made. The only thing I didn’t mess up was when we all froze at the end.
The music faded out. Besides the applause from our parents, the most we got from the crowd was a few shrugs and the I guess we should clap sort of clapping. We left the stage. The announcer was blabbering on about Smoothietopia and a small break so the judges could make their decision. Not like we had anything to worry about. We were dead last because of me.
Kassie pulled me to the side. “Stop it,” she said, glaring.
“What?”
“Stop stomping around like that. You did great out there.”
I gave her the Are you being serious right now? look. She glanced at Carson like she was waiting for him to back her up.
“Oh, yeah,” he finally said. “You did your best. I think. That’s all that matters.”
“Whatever. I don’t have a best. I don’t even have a pretty good. ” I leaned hard against the back of the stage, making the entire thing wobble.
Our first and only dance competition and I’d ruined it.
An achy pinch gripped my throat and I almost lost it. I turned my head away. They didn’t care about winning, but still. Letting them down over and over hurt
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