“It’s in here!” Jen pulled on my arm, practically dragging me down the hall and into a bright room filled with easels, pottery wheels and desks covered in pencils and markers. “The class is an hour, so come back and get me at five, okay?” She darted into the room and grabbed a smock from a hook on the wall before I could answer.
“Okay. So, five o’clock. Right here,” I called to no one in particular. Jen was already out of earshot. Or just ignoring me. It was hard to tell which. I turned to leave.
“Five thirty!” Jen yelled at my back.
“Fine.” I waved a hand in the air as I left. Great. An hour and a half. No homework. No book. How was I supposed to kill ninety minutes? I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and scrolled through my apps. None appealed to me. Not Mega Jump. Not Mad Coaster. Not even Temple Run. Or Cut the Rope. Nothing. And my battery was down to 15 percent, so I couldn’t listen to music. Sighing, I put my phone away and looked around. The Community Center halls were quiet. All of the classes had already started. I leaned back against the wall. My watch now read 4:05. Great. Five minutes down and only eighty-five to go. I clicked my tongue. I rolled my eyes. I snapped my fingers and drummed on the wall. Finally I stuck my hands in my pockets and started wandering aimlessly down the hall.
I bounced around a little, poking my head into the door of a prenatal yoga class and stood in the back of an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting before realizing what was happening and slinking out, my mouth full of the chocolate-chip cookies that had been on the table in the back. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, swallowed the last bite… and heard the sound of drums and what sounded like chanting coming from somewhere to my left.
I followed the drumbeat down the hall to an unmarked door. I looked around and, seeing no one, pulled it open and slipped inside. The drum was much louder here. It was punctuated by the sound of feet stomping and a woman’s voice calling out instructions. I edged forward, finding myself at the back of a stage overlooking a gymnasium.
“Lighter feet, Julie. That’s great. Okay, ladies, twirl and twirl and twirl!” Chanting voices shrieked in time with the drumbeat, and I walked forward until I reached the edge of the stage and ducked behind the curtain. Taking a deep breath, I peered around the curtain at a group of girls dancing. I had been to Pow Wows back on the rez with my mom, but I had never paid much attention to the people there shuffling along to the music. I’d grown up around them, and although I had always liked the music well enough, I had spent my time at the Pow Wows with the other boys, eating fry bread and flirting with the girls. But this was different somehow. The energy was different.
Like the people on the rez, these girls were dressed in every color imaginable. Each had her hair braided and wore a headband sprouting feathers and beads. All were wearing moccasins and elaborate shawls with long fringes that matched their intricately beaded dresses. The girls held their shawls out, twirling and whirling madly, like mini dervishes. Their feet were a blur of motion as they stomped softly across the floor, tapping and weaving their way around the room. I watched, unaware that I was holding my breath.
“Girls, feel the music. Feel the drums. This is the dance of your ancestors! Taylor, drop your shoulder a little more on the turn,” the woman called out, turning and catching sight of me watching sneakily from behind the curtain. Our eyes met and I jumped back, heart pounding. I stood away from the curtain, waiting for the woman to call me out. “All right ladies, keep twirling!” I backed toward the door, inching my way out, and made my way down the hall toward Jen’s art class.
“Hey!” a voice called out behind me.
Damn! Almost made it. I turned, hands up.
“Look, I’m sorry,” I blurted out. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your class.” I was backing up as she advanced. “It won’t happen again.”
She laughed kindly at me. “Stop. It’s fine. Look, I saw you watching the class. I know you, don’t I?” she asked.
“No, I don’t think so.” I turned to leave.
“The rez is a small place. You’re William Greyeyes grandson, right?”
I stared at her, surprised. “Uh…yeah. How did…have we met?” I stammered.
“No. But I’ve seen you around. William’s redheaded grandson.” She laughed at that. “Do you dance?”
Now it was my turn to laugh. “Me? No. Not at all.”
“Really? You seemed to be enjoying the music. I just wanted to invite you to try the class.” “What? Why?” I looked at her in shock. “Thanks, really. But I don’t dance. I’m an athlete, not a dancer. I play soccer. And hockey. And lacrosse. But I don’t dance. Sorry.” I smiled. I was about to walk away when the teacher started laughing.
“An athlete, huh?” she asked, smirking. “Okay.” She started digging in her bag, pulled out a DVD and held it out to me. “Just watch this. If you’re not interested, fine. But if you want to try it, come back, and you can give it a shot.” She waved the DVD in front of me.
I reached out and took it from her, not wanting to be rude. “I’m Santee,” she said, smiling.
“John McCaffrey. Thanks.”
She nodded and turned back toward the gym. I watched her walk away and then glanced down at my watch. “Oh no…” I started to run toward Jen’s art class, clutching the DVD tightly in my hand.