Dance

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I am okay. I am not crazy. I am going to be perfectly fine. I hope. I need to be okay, because if I'm not, it won't be good.
The girls come running in the classroom early, excited about something.
Or maybe not excited... Knowing them their probably mad.
"We need someone to enter us! We have no one!" Fernanda yells at Scarlett and Elena.
"Hey!" I shout. "Why are we yelling?"
Everyone walks to their seats and looks forward. The room is tense. I'm tense from earlier this morning. Hell, I need a stress ball.
I sigh and sit in my seat. "Okay, what's the problem?"
Nobody lifts their hands. Its gym today for the boys, and I can see Eddy outside, his eyes no where on his class. His eyes are on me. Clearing my throat, I ask Bridget to close the door.
When the door closes, I focus on the class again. "I'm going to ask again. What's the problem?"
Scarlett raises her hand. "You've heard of Cat Myers, the gospel singer, right?" I nod. "Well, every year, she has some type of dance competition. And we were just, you know, hopeful that we could dance and maybe win."
"There's one problem," Fernanda adds. "In order to be in the competition, you need to have a sponsor."
"I see."
"Do you? Do you really?" Elena asks, fuming. "You wouldn't understand. All you have to do is ask for something and you get it. We don't have your luck, Ms. O'Neil."
I can't help it, I laugh. Its a bitter, mean laugh. "Oh, Elena. When my mom died, and I needed her the most, I didn't have her. Money can't buy everything, but love can."
"Here she goes with her quotes..." Marissa murmurs.
"I'll be your sponsor, if you want me to," I offer.
"Can you even dance?" Elena sneers. I swear, her level of hatred amazes me.
"Yes. I can dance. Does this surprise you?"
"Yes." She shifts. "And you'd really do that for us? Why?"
"Do you guy's really think I'm heartless? What's the harm in letting you compete in a dance competition?"
"We can't dance like the other groups," Bridget bluntly states. "I don't know why they even bother. Last year, they couldn't even do the same dance together, and on top of that, no one could stand in each other's presence for more than five minutes without a fight. Y'all are ridiculous if you think that there's even hope us girls dancing."
"I can help you learn a dance. I promise I'll teach you how. And maybe, one day, all of you will stop thinking so negatively. Who knows? We might even win."
"You'd really do that for us?" Fernanda asks, her voice hopeful.
"Yes. Yes, I will."

After lunch, the girls are outside, staring at me, ready for me to teach them.
I laugh when I see their faces. "I admire the dedication, but you guys can't jump right into dancing. First off, you have to be in good shape. So come on, start running. Wake up your body."
"Wait, what? I thought we were dancing, not doing gym." Bridget complains.
I roll my eyes. "One lap. Let's go. Or else we won't get anything done today."
After the girls run their lap and do a couple stretches, I put on my sneakers, and join them. "Okay, girls. The form says in order to compete, you need to perform two dances. We obviously need to choose the songs we're dancing to. Any suggestions?"
Ay, why did I bother ask? The girls clearly can't even pick a song. I allow their bickering to go on for two minutes, and then I start to do some yelling of my own. "Hey! Hey! Hey!"
The girls stop talking. I stare at them. "Why the hell are you guys yelling? Come on now, its not that hard. Talk to each other nicely. Wonderful! Now, the songs. Raise your hands if you have a suggestion." Nobody raises their hand. I sigh. "Really? You were just screaming at each other for two minutes. Come on, I'm not getting any younger."
Bridget raises her hand. "Tapestry, by Hillsong."
I write it down on the piece of paper. "Okay, anything else?"
Frustrated, Lissa raises her hand. "No, no, no. With Everything. Everybody knows that's Hillsong's best song."
"No it isn't!" Fernanda yells back. "Its Oceans! Everybody knows that!"
Uh...What am I supposed to do? Geez. All of them are yelling at each other. College and university don't prepare you for bratty sixteen year olds. I sigh again until I see Eddy walk out. Immediately I can feel my whole body tense.
"What the hell is going on?" He yells, hands on his hips. "All I can hear is bickering and whining."
"Eddy," I say softly, "I can handle this."
"I'm sure you've said that about a lot of other things before they got out of control," he mutters, and walks back into his class. Flinching, I turn away, refusing to meet his glaze. I want to hate him. I want to hate him so badly but I can't, because he's right.
Turning back to the girls, I smile. "How about we choose the song tomorrow. Okay? Now, before Eddy starts complaining that we're not doing anything productive, let's go over some basic dance moves."

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