We continue to work on our dances. Ms. Debbé and Mr. Lester are both happy with how they’re coming along.
When I practice mine, Terrel is there most of the time, dancing along with me. Mr. Lester has her do it alone sometimes, too, just to make sure she knows the steps. She still looks like a little mechanical doll when she’s dancing: every step perfectly in place. But after the storeroom incident, I keep my observations to myself.
One day, we head over to the triplets’ house, because Jerzey Mae says she has a surprise for us.
“What? Did you decide to organize your pencils by length instead of by color?” asks JoAnn.
“Shut up, JoAnn,” says Al, but she’s smiling. Jerzey Mae’s a little crazy where neatness and organization are concerned.
“No,” Jerzey Mae says, pained. “You’ll see.”
When we get there, we go into her very tidy room and sit on the floor. She pulls her computer over and puts in a DVD.
“It’s Linc!” Jessica says. We all lean forward to see better. “Where did you get that, Jerz?”
“I borrowed it from my friend Paula,” Jerzey Mae says, pleased with herself. “Her dad works in TV. This is a dance special that was on TV in Germany, but hasn’t been on TV here yet. Paula said Linc has a big solo dance in it—Just a sec.” She messes with the controls, finds the right place on the DVD, and presses the play button.
There’s Linc, alone on the stage. He’s wearing a tank top and tights, with a gold crown on his head and gold bands around his arms. The tank top has strips of fabric that flutter around as he moves, almost like wings. He faces one way, then another. He turns and spins and jumps around like some sort of maniac. Every once in a while, there’s a close-up of his face; he even looks crazy. We all watch, enthralled, as he leaps and twirls across the screen.
“What the heck’s he doing?” JoAnn asks. “Looks like he’s got ants in his pants.”
“He looks like a wild animal trapped in a cage,” Jessica says.
Jerzey Mae shakes her head. “Nope. He’s a prince,” she says. “This is the scene where he goes crazy because he’s lost his true love.”
There’s so much power in every one of his moves. You can feel the emotion as he dances. Jessica’s right: he does seem like he’s trapped and desperate. And I know he has to be adding in his own little touches. How could a choreographer plan out all those twists and turns?
After the dance is over, Jerzey Mae shuts off the DVD player.
“Whew,” Al says. “Pretty intense.”
“Now, that,” I say, “is dancing.”
My friends nod their heads in agreement.
A smile creeps across Brenda’s face. “We’re going to be onstage with him in two weeks!”
“Even less than that,” Terrel says. “The show is in two weeks. He’ll have to be at some rehearsals. Maybe the one next Wednesday.” Wednesday is our first practice at the theater—the actual Harlem Ballet theater. My stomach tightens up just a little at the thought.
JoAnn snorts. “A big star like him? He probably just swoops in the night of the show.”
“No way,” Terrel says. “Big stars rehearse, too.”
“Not as much as everyone else,” Al replies.
“Mr. Lester says the Harlem Ballet has been practicing for weeks.”
“Yeah, but this is special,” Brenda says. “I overheard Mr. Lester saying that the choreographer designed this ballet specially, so Linc didn’t have to rehearse with the company very much.”
“Why?” Jessica asks.
“Because he’s Linc! And the choreographer really wanted him in the show, but Linc’s schedule was really full. So, in this ballet, a lot of the time, he’s dancing alone. The choreographer flew to Germany, where Linc was last performing, to teach him his role.”
Terrel continues, “Well, anyway, he has to practice his dance with Epatha. And maybe with me.”
I’m sure she hopes she’ll get to practice with him. I don’t know why she needs to, though. I don’t plan to get sick, or trip on a skateboard, like JoAnn did.
Brenda interrupts my thoughts. “I should go,” she says. “Homework.”
“Real homework?” Terrel asks. “Or Brenda homework?” Since Brenda wants to be a doctor, she’s decided that this spring she will memorize every single bone and muscle in the human body. And believe me, there are a lot of them.
“Doesn’t matter,” Brenda says, standing up.
“Brenda homework.” JoAnn grins.
As I practice my dance that night, I imagine I’m as wild as Linc was on the DVD. I make my arms flail around. I spin. I try to stare as intensely as he did. As I turn the dance’s boring old single turn into an Epatha special triple turn, I notice Nonna watching me with a look of concern on her face.
“Are you angry?” she asks. “What is wrong with my little tesoro?”
I shake my head. “Just practicing,” I say.
“But I thought this dance was about a happy little girl. You look like an unhappy eagle.”
I’m not sure where the eagle thing came from. But I guess she’s right that the dance needs to look happy.
“I’m still working on it,” I say.
She shakes her head and moves on. I try being wildly happy instead of just plain wild. Finally, I think I’ve got it: the perfect combination of happiness and creative steps. And next week, I’ll be showing Mr. Linc Simmons exactly how good a dancer I am.