Swivelling about, I look for my sister, but Brianne has gone. Probably the first out of the door.
I’m trapped.
A big mirror makes up the far wall and I use it to sneak glances at the three girls from my class. They’ve not noticed me yet, too busy admiring each other’s leotards and hair clips. My brain is swirling. I take a couple of calming breaths, like my speech therapist has taught me to do. In through the nose for the count of five, out for five.
Maybe they won’t even remember me. It’s been months since I followed Tiffany around. I’m almost invisible at school. Completely silent, hiding in shadows, staying out of sight. Perhaps they won’t think that the boy who dances is the same boy who doesn’t speak.
Don’t look at them.
Be invisible.
Don’t freeze.
My hand goes up to my hair. My big, distinctive, orange hair. Of course they’ll know it’s me. You can’t hide hair like mine.
‘What’s wrong?’ Richa loud-whispers at me.
I shake my head, drop my eyes to her shoes.
Just don’t look, I tell myself and concentrate on breathing.
Richa is glancing about at everyone, trying to see who has upset me. ‘Can you point?’ she asks me. I shake my head again.
Richa can’t meet them. If she does, she’ll want to be their friend and not mine. Maryam, Scarlett and Tiffany would be proper friends to Richa. They can talk.
‘Let’s warm up everyone,’ says Felicity. ‘Not that we need to in this heat. Then we’ll do some group routine work.’ She puts on the music. ‘Heatwave’ by Martha and the Vandellas blares out.
‘Just my little joke, folks,’ Felicity says, the headset microphone raising her voice above the music. She sets off into the warm-up routine that we’re all to follow.
There’s no time to let the panic of the situation properly take hold. I can’t think about Richa, or the girls from my class. Instead, I close my eyes for a second or two, replacing my steady breathing with the sound and feel of the music. Letting the beat and rhythm fill me pushes out the worry and panic. I open my eyes and think only about the music. My body moves for me and I start to follow the routine.
Once I’m dancing I relax. It’s always been this way. There’s nothing awkward about my dancing. It’s the most free and natural thing I do. It’s difficult to explain, but the music takes over. I imagine it’s like when the pilot of an airplane switches on the autopilot and the airplane flies itself.
The routine is basic, easy to learn. Step touch, chassé, and mambo cha cha to the right, repeat to the left, with a two-step turn in between. Richa picks it up quickly. It’s obvious she’s danced in a class before. The two of us fall into a natural rhythm, just like we did with the trampoline shapes. I can feel my hair bouncing and the beginnings of a smile on my face and think maybe it’ll be OK. If we just dance and don’t try to talk, it’ll all be OK.
Richa and I are near the front. There’s about twenty of us all together. Scarlett, Maryam and Tiffany make up the right side of the back row. Scarlett and Maryam are struggling, and doing their best to keep up, but Tiffany is terrible. She is all elbows and knees and has no natural rhythm at all. She keeps going in the wrong direction and nearly banging into all the other kids.
Call-Me-Felicity has clocked Tiffany. Our teacher’s eyes keep flicking over to her, but she doesn’t miss a beat. Felicity carries on perfectly, making her moves big and calling them out over and over so that we all know which way to go.
I’ve seen Felicity dance; I mean really dance. When she was young, she danced on stage. She was in all the big West End shows like Cats and Chicago. One time, when the other kids kept crazing her, Felicity showed us some videos of her dancing on YouTube. I went home that night and looked her up. I typed in Felicity Delaware and watched every clip of her dancing that I could find. She’s inspiring – I want to do what she’s done. If I didn’t have SM I know I could.
My guess is our teacher will be taken up trying to teach Tiffany the basics. I’m hoping today will be enough to stop Tiffany from coming back to dance class. Football is her thing. I have no idea why she’s here. I hate that Tiffany, Scarlett and Maryam are all here. They’re going to spoil everything.