Dance Floor Anthem
Chapter 1
Ugh. Don't you just hate walking home? I mean, come on, what are cars for? Of course with a father working in Brooklyn and a mother working in Manhattan, I guess cars are kind of out of the picture. But this is why we need to put some amendments on these driving rules. I mean, what's with that rule where you have to be 16 years old to drive?
Come on now, let's be reasonable. Bump it down to 14! So, sure, maybe 1 or 2 (dozen) people may, might get hurt. But hey, you can't live your life unscarred forever. And besides, at least everyone gets home without dealing with the hassles of walking.
Ugh. The sun is too hot! I already got that milk chocolate skin, do I need to be any darker? Oh! I was so busy ranting that I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Alex Dawson. I'm 15 and I love to dance. I'm really good at it too. But unfortunately, I'm very smart. So right away you should know that my mom, having roots in the Caribbean, would never consider dancing a career. She wants me to be a doctor.
BORING. Where is the excitement? I don't consider working on diseased patients and working in a lab all day trying to find a cure that's been non-existent for like ever to be rather intriguing. I have a passion for science I really do, but I don't want to base my career on it. Sure, it would definitely be something to fall back on, but nah I'm good. Well enough with this boring stuff.
I finally made it home! Great, now its time to get something to eat and get ready for dance practice at 7:30. I took out a box of Kraft's. Put the water to a boil and then went in my room to start my hw.
Once I finished my math homework, the water was boiling. I put in the pasta. Once I finished cooking I sat down to eat. Then I got a text message on my phone. I pulled out my flip phone. It was from Haley Prescott. My best friend since the summer before 7th grade.
"Yo alex! What's good?"
"Hey Haley. You comin' to dance today?"
"Nah. I can't. I have to go to the orthodontist to get my braces removed."
"Aw. Ok. I'll be missing you."
I hung up the phone, finished my mac and cheese and left for dance. When I was about to open the door to the building the dance was in, my phone started to ring. It was Demetri Athens. My dance teacher. He was only a year older than me, but he was good. By the way, in case you were wondering, we don't dance ballet or tap or any of that other boring stuff. Not that it's bad its just, not us. We dance hip-hop, crump, and we just free-style and do what we feel. Sometimes ballet is incorporated actually most of the time it is. So you ballerinas don't feel bad. Anyway back to the conversation.
"Hey Demetri. I'm just walking in now. You upstairs already?"
"Nah. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I'm not going to be able to teach today. I have to go across town for a meeting with all the other dance leaders in NYC. So you're gonna have to take over for me."
"Demetri, do you realize what you're saying? You're asking ME to lead practice! Dude, I'm only 15. There are people there your age. They're not going to listen to me. Even the people who are younger. You can't be serious."
"Well I am and I'm 16. So age is not an excuse. You are the best dancer there and you know it. They won't disrespect you. You know we're all homies. We're cool. Come on. Just do this for me, please?"
"Fine! I'll do it. But you owe me."
"You know it. Peace."
"Later."
I went upstairs and found the dancers warming up. "Ok guys. As you know the annual Youth Dancing Competition is in a month and we have to do THE best we can to prepare for it. So after we finish warming up, I'll play the song that I think we should do and you guys can tell me what you think." We did warm-ups and then I played the song. To my surprise, however, they liked it. I taught them the steps for the beginning of the song because well, that's all I made up.
I played it out in my head. I didn't think they would be doing it and besides, this is just to get through the day. No problem. Once class was over, I must have gotten 12 "great songs", 6 "nice moves" and 9 "can't wait for the competitions."
Then one of my friends, in my grade, came up to me. His name was Darrell Henry. "Hey, Alex. There's this friend of mine who's a really great dancer, but his parents don't want him to act on it and he doesn't want to go through the hassle. Here's his schedule. His name is Austin James. Maybe you could talk to him sometime. You know, convince him to join?"
I sighed. I was awfully good at helping people join the group, but something in my gut convinced me this wouldn't be easy at all. Nevertheless, I put the schedule in my purse got my stuff, turned off the lights, locked the door and headed home. Then it hit me: Austin was a lot like myself. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.