Kevin sat down on the floor and took a swig of water; his audition was over, and the rest was in the hands of his teacher, Ms. Kraft. The next group came forward and took position, and Kevin spotted Jiri, who gave him a small smile, then stretched a little before standing still to wait for the music. Jiri looked out of place in his green leggings and his careworn toe shoes, and people were giving him strange looks, but he didn't seem to notice or care.

"All right," said Ms. Kraft, "Same drill as the other groups. You'll all dance in formation as instructed, and I'll call you forward as random individuals, then you will solo. This is to see how good of an individual dancer you are, as well as to test your improvisation skills. Everyone understand? Now, starting in four, three, two. . ."

The music began, and the group moved as a single, well-synchronized mass. Unlike Kevin's audition, the music was not classical, but an alternative track with vocals, and Kevin could just see some of the students planning out their solos, expressions of deep concentration on their faces. Jiri, however, was smiling a little as he danced, thoroughly enjoying being on his feet.

The first few solos were failures; the dancers were unprepared, and one girl even fell. Some of them were getting tense and nervous, but Jiri stayed happy. The teacher noticed this, and called out, "You there, number 609."

Jiri grinned even wider, then broke out of the pack to the front of the room, sliding forward on pointe. From there, he spun twice and performed something that was a fascinating cross between ballet, modern, and hip-hop freestyling, and Ms. Kraft was smiling a little by the time she sent him back. On his way back to the group, Jiri caught Kevin's eye and smirked, then winked, falling into step with the others.

Kevin couldn't hold back a smile in return.