Dancing Lessons

"C'mon, Chad, you can do this. I know you can. Listen to the beat."

Chad rolled his eyes. He WAS listening to the beat. It was hard NOT to, with the CD player blaring and Ryan counting aloud in his ear.

"I'm trying!"

Ryan seemed less than convinced. "You're not trying hard enough. You've got to be more aggressive," he instructed. "Don't be afraid to push. Remember, I'm following YOU. Lead me. Be forceful."

Huffing a frustrated sigh, Chad dropped Ryan's hands to brush perspiration from his forehead with his arm. Ryan wasn't even breaking a sweat, he noted bitterly. "I AM forceful, dammit."

Ryan quirked an eyebrow as he laughed doubtfully. "Gabriella is more forceful than you."

"Gee, thanks," Chad remarked sarcastically. "I'll remember that next time Troy bails on our two-on-two game. Maybe SHE can guard Zeke."

Ryan frowned slightly. "See, that's your problem, Chad. You're still thinking of this in terms of basketball."

Chad shrugged. "It's what I know."

Ryan clasped his hands together and intoned in a throaty, high-pitched voice, "You must unlearn what you have learned, my young apprentice." He nodded sagely, closing his eyes. "Out of the game, you must get your head." Ryan peeked through one open eye back at Chad and flashed a cheeky, lopsided grin.

"Okay, 'Master,'" Chad shoved Ryan playfully, "then teach me the ways of the dance Force."

Ryan raised his eyebrows at that. "Mmm, 'Master,'" he purred, scratching his chin thoughtfully, "I like the sound of that."

"Don't get TOO comfortable," Chad teased, "Remember, the apprentice ALWAYS defeats the master eventually. You don't watch out, I could become the new Dark Lord of the Dance."

"I look forward to that day," Ryan tipped his hat in salute. "But until then," he rubbed his hands together and grinned evilly, "you're all mine. Bwa-ha-HA!"

Chad laughed. These summer dance lessons with Ryan were turning out to be a lot more fun than he had thought they would be. Sure, Ryan was a demanding teacher and such a perfectionist that it sometimes made Chad want to scream, but he knew that he was no different on the hardcourt.

Besides, Ryan was actually a really fun guy, with a dry, subtle sense of humor that meshed well with Chad's broad sarcasm. Chad genuinely enjoyed spending time with him, to the point where he actively looked forward to their twice-weekly dance lessons in the empty Lava Springs yoga studio. The sessions with Ryan soon became Chad's main reason for going to work on Tuesdays and Thursdays. On those evenings, he counted down the minutes to the end of his shift, clocking out and disappearing from the kitchen with only a hurried goodbye to his other friends.

Today was no different, but the lesson wasn't going as well as either boy had hoped.

"So," Ryan said, suddenly all business again, "Maybe we should try a different approach?"

Chad nodded. "I'm game."

"Okay, I've got an idea. Pretend you're making a shot from the free throw line. Here, I'm passing you an invisible basketball." Ryan pantomimed the motion of passing a basketball, pushing out from his chest with both hands. Chad noted with surprise that he actually had a pretty good wrist snap.

"Wait...what?"

"Just do it," Ryan instructed confidently, "Trust me, I AM going somewhere with this."

"Uh...okay," Chad mumbled skeptically, awkwardly continuing the pantomime with a few imaginary dribbles.

"Now shoot."

Chad smoothly executed the shot. "Swish! Nothin' but net!" he joked. He started to step back towards Ryan. "Was there a point--"

"Wait, don't move!" Ryan ordered. "Stay right there and get back into position...or formation...or whatever you basketball guys call it."

Chad shrugged and did as he was told, poising his body to make the perfect shot.

"Take a look at your feet, your ankles, your knees, your hips...are they set? Are they flexible? If I pushed you, would you fall over?"

Chad looked down at his feet, then back at Ryan, nodding slowly in understanding. He'd never thought about it that way before. "They're set and anchored, so I can push off and follow-through to send the ball sailing through the net."

Ryan nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly."

"And?" Chad looked at Ryan expectantly, still waiting for the point to all this.

"I want you to forget all that."

"What? Why?"

"Be conscious of the way you move. Dancing isn't the same as basketball," Ryan explained. "It's more fluid. You need to learn to loosen up. Give those hips a little wiggle. Like this." He rocked his hips side to side as he stepped forward and backward in time to the music. "C'mon, show me what you got."

Chad laughed dismissively. "Dude, I can't do that."

"Yes you can!" Ryan insisted. "Your body knows how to do it. It's just your head that needs to work it out."

"Maybe YOUR body knows how, but mine has NEVER done that," Chad argued, stubbornly crossing his arms across his chest.

"I bet it has," Ryan countered, "and what's more, I bet you've been doing it since you were little!"

"This I gotta hear," Chad remarked skeptically.

With a smug smile, Ryan simply stated, "Hula hoop."

"What are you talking about?"

"C'mon, didn't you ever play with a hula hoop when you were a kid?"

Chad nodded. "Sure. My older sister and I used to have contests to see who could hula hoop the longest without stopping." He smiled proudly as he remembered, "I ALWAYS won. But I don't see that what that has to do with--"

Ryan raised his eyebrows meaningfully and rotated his hips, as if spinning a hoop around his waist.

"It's not the same!" Chad quickly insisted.

Ryan sighed in frustration, and his shoulders dropped. "Look Chad, I don't know how many other ways I can show you." He shrugged. "All I know is that you're not going to get any better until you get over your mental block about dancing."

"Dude...Ryan...maybe I'm just a hopeless case." Chad suddenly felt ashamed for wasting Ryan's time and he had the panicked thought that Ryan might call the whole thing off. "But we're still having fun, though, right?" he added, nearly pleading.

Ryan nodded, grinning widely. "Of course we are! I'm having a blast."

Chad smiled in return. "Me too."

Ryan laughed, clapping Chad on the shoulder. "Then quit selling yourself short. I know you can do this. I've seen you move on the court AND the diamond AND the track. Even when you're bussing dishes in the dining room, you move with grace and poise."

"You think?" Chad asked, incredulous.

"I KNOW," Ryan said confidently. "I'm not going to give up on you. An Evans does not accept failure."

"But what if it takes all summer?" Chad asked ruefully.

"As long as it takes. By the time we're through you might wish you had taken lessons with my sister instead," Ryan chuckled, "but y'know, I'll stick it out if you will."

Chad nodded, smiling back at Ryan.

Suddenly, a third voice sounded in the empty studio. "Oh! I'm sorry, boys. Please pardon the interruption."

The boys turned to see Mrs. Evans standing in the doorway, elegant yet sporty in her afternoon tennis attire.

Chad noted with amusement that Ryan's entire demeanor changed at the sight of his mother. "Hi Mom!" Ryan chirped in greeting and practically skipped over to meet her. It was very easy for Chad to imagine Ryan as a small child, bounding to greet his mother in exactly the same way. He followed, and keeping Ryan's words in mind, paid particular attention to the grace with which the other boy moved.

"Hello Ducky," Mrs. Evans smiled warmly at her son, and the pair exchanged finger kisses. "Who's your friend?" She smiled at Chad in a knowing way that for some reason made him feel a little uncomfortable.

"Mom, you remember Chad Danforth? He caddied for you a couple of weeks ago."

"Oh, of course! How wonderful! Nice to see you again, Chad." She offered her hand.

"Mrs. Evans," Chad nodded in acknowledgement, extending his hand to shake. She had a surprisingly firm grip and a very enthusiastic shake.

"Darling," she said, turning back to her son, "I just wanted to remind you that we're having supper with the Frasers tonight."

Ryan nodded. "I'll be there. Eight o'clock, right?"

Mrs. Evans smiled in return. "Eight it is! Make sure you're on time. You know how fussy Kitty Fraser is about punctuality." She rolled her eyes and laughed melodiously. "See you then. Toodles, Ducky!" She blew a kiss and swept out of the room, leaving the boys alone again.

Not for the first time, Chad mused that the Evanses weren't people, but forces of nature. Each of them had enough personality to fill a room -- and they frequently did, leaving a vacuum of quiet lifelessness when they left. It was little wonder that Mr. and Mrs. Evans were the toast of the Albuquerque elite, or that their children took to the stage so well.

But to hear Mrs. Evans, the larger-than-life queen of the country club, call her son cutesy pet names -- that was almost too much for Chad to bear. He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

With his mother gone, Ryan was once again all business, "So! What's next? Do you want to try a foxtrot?"

The only thing Chad could squeak out in reply was "Ducky?"

Ryan shrugged, nonplussed. "My mom has always called me that."

"Ducky?!" Chad couldn't contain his laughter any longer. "AWW, are you mommy's widdle Ducky, Wyan?" he teased, pinching Ryan's cheeks.

Ryan looked at Chad dubiously, but without a hint of embarrassment. "Yes, I am my mommy's widdle Ducky. What's the big deal? Doesn't your mom have a nickname for you?"

"Not since I was six," Chad chuckled, adding under his breath, "unless 'That Boy' counts as a nickname."

"Well," Ryan affected an air of faux superiority, "I can't help it if MY mommy still thinks I'm special."

Chad sighed and pursed his lips in an exaggerated pout. "Aw man, it's no fun teasing if you don't get embarrassed!"

"Sorry!" Ryan said, grinning in a way that showed Chad he was not at all sorry. "You can't shame someone with no shame. Remember, I'm a thespian!" he said proudly.

"Actors," Chad muttered, shaking his head.

"Jocks," Ryan teased, mirroring Chad.

"Okay, okay!" Chad exclaimed, "I never thought I'd say this, but can we get back to dancing now?"

"Absolutely," Ryan answered with a smile.

"Lead on, Ducky."

THE END