Put your best foot forward with the Harvard Ballroom Dance Team!
Team Tryouts - Monday at 8pm
Adams Dining Hall
Following the signs for the dance team tryouts, Alfred found himself in an elegant dining room with a dozen other hopefuls. The organizers had lined the chairs along one wall and pushed most of the tables to the far side of the room, leaving the wooden floor bare except for one lone table with three judges and a sign-up sheet. Alfred crossed the floor to add his name to the list.
A brunette with her hair drawn back in a French braid handed him a pen. "Put down your name and the type of dance, and we'll provide the song and partner," she explained.
Alfred nodded and flashed her a smile as he scrawled his name and favorite dance.
She looked at him like he had grown two heads when she saw what he had written down. "Seriously… polka? We're the ballroom dance team, not the square dancing team."
"It was on the list!" Alfred protested. In fact, seeing that particular dance was the only reason he had bothered to show up for tryouts. Who cared about salsa or waltz or tango? He wanted to bounce energetically to corny, fast-paced music.
The brunette shrugged. "It was one of the open competition dances a few years ago. But trust me, you'll have much better chances if you pick something else."
"I want to polka," Alfred insisted as he crossed his arms stubbornly. It was better than admitting that he didn't know any of the other ballroom dances.
"Fine." She threw up her hands. "I'll go see if we have a team member who knows polka."
As she disappeared to a back room in a huff, Alfred joined the other hopefuls on the chairs lined against the wall. He watched as the men put on soft-soled leather shoes and the women strapped themselves into high heels that looked impossible for walking, much less dancing. Alfred glanced down at his sneakers and wondered if he should have chosen something fancier.
His head shot up as the judges called out several names. Three people stood up and walked out onto the floor, where they were met with three team members. They split into pairs and spread out across the dance floor. Alfred watched as the three sets of dancers perfomed the salsa to a catchy Latin song. The women sashayed their hips and spun tightly on the beat. The men moved their arms and legs gracefully. As the music came to an end, most couples finished the song with a dip. Alfred joined the others in clapping politely, even as he started to panic internally about what he had signed up for. If they did tryouts dance by dance, and he was the only one dancing the polka… that meant he would be the only one out on the floor.
Next up came the swing dancers, and Alfred wondered if it would be a good idea to sneak out while everyone's attention was on the wild and boisterous dancers jumping and jiving across the floor. They kicked. They leapt. They slammed their heels on the floor to accentuate the beat. It looked surprisingly fun. By the time they finished, a few dancers had developed beads of sweat on their forehead, but they were still smiling brightly.
Alfred watched with growing trepidation as the last group of tryouts took the floor for an elegant waltz. They danced smoothly and elegantly, most of them wearing an expression of careful concentration. One man grimaced sourly as his dance partner spun a little too slowly and made them lose the beat. Alfred watched as they recovered and felt sorry for the dark-haired woman stuck dancing with the blond sourpuss. Even though the man waltzed with perfect precision, his expression clearly showed that he would rather be anywhere but on the dance floor. Or maybe it was just his large eyebrows that made him look so angry.
Both dancers seemed pleased when the song finally ended. They bowed to each other after the final spin. The dark-haired woman walked away with a relieved smile, while Mr. Eyebrows hung back on the dance floor.
Even though he knew it was coming, Alfred still jerked his head in surprise when he heard his name called. He strode out onto the floor, desperately trying to hide his nerves beneath a blinding smile. His grin slipped as he realized that Mr. Eyebrows was the member waiting to dance with him. Alfred glanced over at the brunette with the sign-up sheet and she shrugged apologetically.
"Is there a problem?" the sourpuss asked in an irritated English accent.
"You know how to polka?" Alfred replied incredulously. Somehow, he had never expected that he would be paired up with someone wearing a sweater vest and perfectly pressed trousers. His dancer partner looked far more suited to a stately waltz than the energetic polka.
Mr. Eyebrows sighed. "The most of anyone here, I'm afraid. I learned the basic steps in my History of Waltz class."
Deciding to make the best of it, Alfred took his irritated dance partner into a closed position as the music began to play. Someone on the team must have had an extensive Disney music collection—it was the Silly Song from Snow White.
Alfred led his unenthusiastic dance partner through the basic step a few times. The man held himself stiffly, undoubtedly unaccustomed to the follow position. Despite the change in position, he managed to dance perfectly in time with the beat. Alfred switched over to a promenade and grinned at the judges as they danced past. The polka was such a lively dance. It would have been nice to have a more eager partner, but at least he was having fun.
He took Mr. Eyebrows through a series of dizzying pivots and watched as the man's irritation grew ever more obvious.
"Could you try to look like you're not being tortured?" Alfred asked.
"I will once we finish this ghastly dance," the man muttered back.
Alfred grinned. "Just wait till you see what I have planned for the end!"
"So help me God, if you make me spin, I'll make sure you never get on the team."
Taking that as the challenge it was, Alfred led them back into the basic step around the dance floor as the music began to fade away. He made Mr. Eyebrows spin one, two, three, four times, and ended with a mocking bow. They got a spattering of applause, though Alfred mostly ignored it in favor of enjoying the thunderous expression on his dance partner's face.
The man snatched away his hand and stalked off the dance floor before the last strains of polka music had finished echoing in the room. Alfred listened with half an ear as Ms. French Braid informed the hopefuls and other team members that the list of choices would be posted by Sunday night.
"Good luck!" she called as the hopefuls changed back into their street shoes. Alfred just looked down at his sneakers and sighed.
Even though he already had his answer, Alfred still went back at the end of the week to check the list. Sure enough—his name wasn't on it.
He shrugged his shoulders and turned to leave, but paused after a few steps as he heard the sounds of an angry argument waft into the dining hall that served as a dance practice room. Alfred didn't recognize the woman's voice, but the angry Englishman definitely sounded familiar.
"I am the best waltzer you have!"
"So what? A team needs two people and no one wants to dance with you, Arthur!"
"Well, it's not my fault they can't handle criticism."
Someone laughed. "Criticism? Is that what you call it?"
"The decision is final," a different person added.
Alfred heard dance shoes slam loudly against the wooden floor and he watched with satisfaction as the cranky Englishman strode past the list with the tryout results. "Oooh, sounds like I'm not the only one who didn't make the team," he remarked cheerfully.
"Shut up," Arthur replied irritably as he grabbed his bag from the coat rack.
"Hey, maybe this is karma getting back at you for keeping me off the team."
Arthur rolled his eyes. "I didn't keep you off the team. It was the judges didn't see a need for someone whose only dance is polka."
"Oh." Alfred's schadenfreude begin to fade. Seeing the unhappy expression on the Englishman's face, he even felt a touch of remorse for his mockery.
Bag in hand, Arthur bent down to replace his dance shoes with a pair of loafers. "If you're really that interested in competing, there's still the open competition," he explained as he finished changing shoes. "You don't need a team for that."
"Yeah, but I'd still need a partner."
Arthur slowly straightened up and gave him a considering look. "True. Though if you had a partner, you could show the Harvard Ballroom Dance Team what they're missing out on."
Even though he wasn't much for subtlety, Alfred felt a smile slowly grow across his face. "Hey, that does sound nice."
"It's going to be a lot of work," Arthur warned. "I can be very demanding."
"You don't say," Alfred replied with a laugh. He gave it a few seconds of thought and decided that seeing the look on everyone's faces when they won would be worth it. He offered his hand for a handshake and grinned. "I'm in!"