Page 14 of Forbidden Dance
I’m out. Free!
The walk to Dreamcatcher is exhilarating. I feel so full of joy and energy. I wish I hadn’t panicked so much when Blitz took me in his arms. It was just a dance move. I could have kissed him! Imagine! We were safe enough in the storage room. What could happen at a dance academy?
I’m determined when I see him today to be bold and not freak out. In fact, I tug at the pins holding my hair in a tight dance bun and let it fall free. It floats against my shoulders and tickles my arms. I feel different, less trapped. Lovely.
I picture dancing alone with him again, and this time accepting his kiss, and I squeal loud enough to disturb the squirrels in the tree overhead. They treat me to a shower of brown leaves.
“Sorry!” I call out, but I’m not the least bit sorry at all. As I approach the academy, my feet fairly fly up the steps to the front door.
Suze looks up from the desk. “Extra practice today?” she asks.
“Yes,” I answer, my face falling at the empty foyer. But of course Blitz wouldn’t be out here. If he’s at Dreamcatcher at all, he’ll be in one of the rooms. I just have to go look.
“How full is the practice room today?” I ask.
“Just Cassidy and Allen, going over their ballroom routine.”
I didn’t know Cassidy had a partner now. Another man at Dreamcatcher! Thankfully they wouldn’t be at the recital for Dad to see.
But their dance will take up a lot of space. I’ll be confined to the barre to avoid bumping into them. “Anything else open?”
Suze clicks on the keyboard. “The other three studios are in use. But you could go on the recital stage if you want. Danika is in there so the lights are on.”
Hmm. I definitely want to go down the hall and peek into the other rooms. Maybe I can warm up in the studio and then move on to the recital stage.
“Thanks,” I tell Suze. I grip the strap of the string bag that holds my ballet shoes. I should ask her if Blitz is here, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I don’t want to be disappointed, but more than that, I don’t want to tip Suze off that I’m interested in him. They will talk.
The hall is quiet in the middle of the hour. I peek into the window of Studio 1. Aurora is there with her baby ballerinas, toddlers in tutus who mostly roll around on the floor. The moms all sit against the wall, ready to redirect their child, kiss a boo-boo, or change a diaper.
I don’t see this class often, as it’s my off day, but today I pause, watching the mothers snap pictures of their little girls. I missed this part of Gabriella’s life completely. I didn’t discover where she was until she was almost three. Then it was another year before she arrived for the wheelchair ballerina class. She couldn’t know who I was. That would be the worst of all.
I cherish my one hour a week with Gabriella and I won’t endanger it. My parents would flip for sure, maybe even move us again. That alone is enough to keep me quiet about who I am.
I just wish I had been there for the years I missed. When Gabriella learned to smile, crawl, and take her first steps. And her last ones. I’m not sure of her condition exactly, but if she isn’t walking a year after the accident, I can only assume she never will again. That doesn’t mean I don’t pray for miracles.
I move across the hall to Studio 2. This is a jazz class taught by Jacob. He’s something to behold, a frenetic ball of energy. He’s showing the students a move that involves a leaping turn in the air, arms outstretched. These children are also small, boys and girls approaching kindergarten age. It’s morning on a weekday, so all the older kids are at school.
In fact, it’s a little unusual for all the studios to be full at a time like this. I glance at Studio 3, where Cassidy and Allen are sweeping through the room in a dramatic tango. If Blitz isn’t in Studio 4, he’s not here.
I stifle a giggle when I approach the window. It’s the Tappin’ Grandmas group, nine ladies in black leotards and tights, gray hair puffed up or braided down. They look awesome, dancing in a line, but the thing that is making me laugh is Blitz.
He’s at the front in shiny tap shoes and black tights, no shirt, and a red bow tie. He looks like a waiter at a strip club, or at least what I imagine one would. It’s hilarious. The woman on the end is wearing a white tank remarkably like the one Blitz had on yesterday, and I have a feeling she’s the reason he’s shirtless now.
They can’t see me with the mirror on the other side, so I lean against the window and take him in. The familiar heat burns through me as I watch him dance. Either he’s learned their routine or he’s teaching one of his, because they are all together, legs out, legs in, tap tap tap. Well, mostly together. Some of the ladies are more coordinated than the others.
I’m not sure who the regular instructor is. Probably Danika herself. It’s the sort of class she would put together. Maybe once she saw Blitz had it under control, she went on to work in the recital hall. If last year was any indication, I should be able to get a lot more time up at Dreamcatcher to help, especially with the new class. More freedom. More time away from home.
More Blitz.
“How’s he doing?”
I’m startled to hear Danika’s voice. She walks through the halls like a ninja, graceful and silent after a lifetime of dance.
“They seem to be enjoying his company.”
She peers through the window and huffs out an abrupt laugh, no doubt the moment she realizes one of the Tappin’ Grandmas has stolen Blitz’s shirt.
“I think he’s found his calling,” she says. “I somehow doubt he can break all their hearts.”
