I signed up to teach a new class, just to keep myself busy. I've realized that when I get board and let my mind wander, it's when I start to pity myself the most. This one's another dance class, partner dancing. I asked Tess to be my other but she has a piano class at the same time… which is probably better because the girl I'm being paired with actually knows a thing or two about the ballroom. They really just ask me to be there so more people will sign up for the less popular classes.
This studio is much bigger than the jazz studio and there are mirrors everywhere. When I arrive, there's still a ballet class going on so I stand and watch through the window. I've never seen anything look so hard. I usually imagine a clutter of skinny adolescence prancing around in slippers and leotards when I think about ballet. But this is different.
Every move the dancers make is smooth and poise. They stand still in a perfect position, but the bitter old teacher with her gray hair pulled back walks up to all of them and finds five things to fix. Each one of them lifts to their tip toes, standing in three straight lines with one of the only two boys in the middle. The other boy sits on the bench; he's dressed to be dancing with the rest of them but he's just watching.
The ballet class ends and the ballroom class begin ten minutes after. Not much different from any other dance class… interesting, a little boring, embarrassing at times and the girls outrageously outnumber the boys.
The very next day, I come early again to watch the ballet. This time the door is open so I slide in and stand by the wall. A couple ladies see me and I smile back, making them share giggles towards their friends. The same boy sits aside, watching the others.
…
"There you are," Tess says, approaching me as I eat my lunch on the front steps of my cabin. "Are you avoiding me?" She teasingly nudges me as she sits one stair up. I haven't eaten any meals at mess hall in the last couple days and I've been skipping a lot more often.
"Close," I say, "It isn't you I'm avoiding."
Tess pauses for moment. She's either thinking about who I could be avoiding or why I would be avoiding them. Telling by her next question, it was the second one. "What makes these last couple days so significant to all the other days and places you could've run into her?"
Mitchie's suddenly questioning me as if she's trying to find out about something. When is the easiest time to talk to a person at camp? During breakfast, lunch or dinner. We recently made a little scene after Mitchie confronted Tess and me about how she thought the same thing as everyone else after seeing us hang out in the cabin Tess, Mitchie, Caitlyn and Lola share. I've started putting up this anti-drama shield by keeping away from practically everything. It only seems to cause more drama inside my head, though. Can you keep up? I can't.
"Things are getting even more complicated lately," I tell her, too lazy to explain the entire ordeal.
But Tess changes the subject quickly, asking me; "Have you ever seen Nate sneak in the middle of the night?"
"Yeah, like every night. Why?"
She squints her eyes and motions her hand in a way that's asking for more detail. "Like… just recently or since the beginning of the summer?"
"Since the beginning of the summer," I say hastily, trying to move on to the next subject. The last bell rings and I take Tess by the hand and start dragging her across camp.
"What are you doing?" Tess laughs, trying not to trip over her own feet.
"I want to show you something!"
I drag her to the dance class and show her to the window. She peers in the glass, not looking the least bit impressed, she asks me, "What is this?"
"It's the ballet class that comes right before my dance class."
She nods her head and shrugs. "Cool," she says.
How can she not stunned by the beauty of the each elegant dancer drifting across the floor? I watch in awe as every move is flawlessly in sync. That boy who I usually see sitting beside everyone, is now gracefully standing to the middle of the cluster, holding his feet together and his arms above his head. The stereo flares a string symphony but the pink ballet shoes sliding across the floor play enough music for me.
"Don't you think this is remarkable?" I ask Tess, sounding like a little boy watching a spaceship movie for the first time.
"It's a little boring."
I jokingly put my hands on my hips and shake my head, "Tess, Tess, Tess," and she giggles and gives a small shove at my arm.
"Sorry, I got to go," She says, "Don't want to be late for my lesson."
As I'm waving bye to Tess I hear the door click open behind me. In the way stands the skinny, bitter teacher with a curious look brought by her thick eyebrows. "Shane Gray," she states in a flat tone. I recoil a few steps, thinking I'm about to get lectured about why I should be with a class or in a cabin at all times. But then she reveals a smile, no longer looking bitter and harsh. "You know, there's a much better view from inside."
I come into the room and lean on the wall. Surprisingly, none of the girls giggle or shriek when they see me walk in. They didn't even notice me. The guy I see sitting on the bench every time has now took his place. I watch the last fifteen minutes of their dancing and the bell rings.
"I'm sorry I didn't formally introduce myself earlier," the ballet teach says to me, "My name is Jane."
"Nice to meet you," I say, peaking to my left to see the other dancers leave.
"Not used to not being notice, are you?" She grins at me. I try not to seem so egotistical now that I realize how self absorbed that thought was. Jane then tells me just before she's leaving, "I bet a couple of them were fans, they just couldn't admit to the others that they like pop music."
Turning around, I see bench boy collecting his stuff. "Sorry," he says, "I'll get out of your way."
"No, take your time."
An awkward silence takes place as I try to think of something else to fill the quiet.
"I really enjoyed watching you dance to today," I speak, but regret it once I recognize how weird that sounded.
"Thanks. I wish I could do it more often."
"If you don't mind me asking, why are you always sitting aside by the end of your class?"
"Bad ankle," he says straightening his leg to reveal the bandage around his right ankle. "I'm actually not supposed to be dancing at all but I couldn't stop. I think my doctor's sort of an extremist anyway."
I feel bad for the guy but didn't know what to say to him. "Well, I'll see you around. I'm Shane by the way," I tell him.
"I know who you are," he chuckles, "Daniel. See you around."
He leaves and on his way out I see him pass my dance partner, Lucy, and a couple of the ballroom students close behind her.