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  “I know, Grandmom, I know. Wait, did you already go to bingo tonight?” I ask, knowing that she didn’t and that it starts in an hour. That’s just an attempt to interrupt the lecture. Then I tell her that I see my dance instructor coming down the hallway for class. It’s not a lie. I do see my instructor, but she was my dance teacher when I was ten years old.

  “Okay, you go ahead to class. Remember, don’t stay too late.”

  “I know. Have fun at bingo,” I say as I wave to my old ballet teacher as she passes me in the hallway and heads to one of the dance studios followed by a few pint-size ballet students in leotards, tights and slippers. I remember being that age and wanting to be a ballerina. I shake my head and smile just as another call beeps. I look at the small screen. It’s my dad. “Grandmom, Dad’s calling on the other line.”

  “Okay. Talk to him. He’s worried. He called here earlier looking for you. Apparently, you had an appointment with Dr. Tubbs today and missed it without calling.”

  “Oh, I forgot all about my appointment today. I came right here after school.”

  “You speak with your dad and don’t stay out too late.”

  “Okay, see you later, Grandmom.” She hangs up. I let my dad’s call go to voice mail. Since I already know what he wants, I decide to catch up with him later. The last thing I want to hear is him complaining about paying for my therapist. Still, I can’t believe I missed my appointment with Dr. Tubbs. I’ve been seeing him for a few months now. And even though I thought I wouldn’t, I really like talking to him. He’s ancient and I’m sure has no idea what I’m talking about sometimes. But all in all, he’s pretty cool for an old guy. After a few minutes I call my sister.

  Jade picks up on the second ring. “Hey,” she says.

  “Hey, girl, what’s up?”

  “Where are you?” she asks.

  “I’m at Freeman. I left school early and came here to dance.”

  “You mean you cut class?” she clarifies.

  “Trust me, it’s no big deal. One was a computer class and I already so know more than what’s being taught and the other was Ms. Grayson’s class. She was out today. We had a substitute and I wasn’t in the mood to watch a Disney movie so I left.”

  “I found out about the hospital bills.”

  “What about them?” I ask.

  “They’re not Grandmom’s. They belong to mom.”

  “What? When was she in the hospital?”

  “I don’t know yet, but we need to get together and talk. Are you going to your dad’s house in Virginia this weekend?”

  “I can stay here,” I say.

  “Good, okay. I’ll meet you tomorrow after school.”

  “Okay, call me.” I end the call and just stand there with a blank expression on my face. Now I’m even more confused than I was before. How did my mom have thousands of dollars in hospital bills and no one knew about it? All of a sudden I feel like I need to get home quick. But there’s nothing I can do when I get there, anyway. Talk about feeling helpless.

  I grab my bag and head back to the main office to return the key to Ms. Jay.

  When I get to the office I see Ms. Jay on the phone. She looks upset. I think she’s talking to one of her teachers. I wave and mouth the words thank you. She nods as she takes the key and puts it back in her desk drawer.

  I head toward the front door to go home, but then I spy Ursula coming toward the office. She doesn’t see me because she’s laughing and talking with some other girls. I stop and take a step back. We haven’t really been close since her half brother, Darien, broke into my house. She called me a couple of times, but I just texted her back that I couldn’t talk.

  The truth is I don’t really want to talk to her right now. I have some things to figure out. I’m not blaming her for Darien and his stupid drama. I know she has nothing to do with him and that she hates him as much as I do, maybe even more. But he wasn’t alone in my house when he broke in. I know I heard a girl’s voice that night. I just wish I knew who it was.

  I like Ursula. She’s a good friend. She’s fun and she’s real. She says what she thinks and doesn’t care how it comes out. She’s like my two best friends, Jalisa and Diamond, mixed together. But now I keep thinking, what if it was her that night? And then I start wondering, what if she was really with Darien and Cassie when they tried to set me up? I don’t want to accuse her, because if I’m wrong…

  I’d hate to lose her as a friend. That’s why I didn’t tell anybody what I heard since I’m really not sure. It sounded like Ursula in my house the night of the robbery, but I don’t know. Either way, I don’t want to deal with it. I turn around and head in the other direction.

  Since I know the top-floor studios were flooded, I decide to go to one of the smaller studios on the second floor. The rooms are mostly for intermediate students and there’s a class just ending, so I go in and sit in the back of the room. Hopefully there’s no dance class in here now. I could seriously use some peace and quiet. I pull out my recipe book. But before I start writing, I text Jalisa and Diamond back and leave a message on my dad’s office phone. I know he’s not there, but at least I can say I called him back.

  “Hey, Kenisha,” Ursula calls as she walks into the studio.

  I look up and see her coming toward me. She’s smiling like nothing’s happened. But maybe nothing did happen. I really don’t know. It could have been her voice and then again… Either way, I smile and assume she’s my friend for now.

  “Hey,” I say, “what are you doing here?”

  “I’m taking a hip-hop dance class,” she says.

  “For real,” I say, surprised.

  “Yeah, girl, you, Diamond and Jalisa were so great when I saw you dancing before that I decided to try it, too. I’m nowhere near as good as you guys, but I really like it. The instructors are fierce here. I never knew they were so good. A couple of them even danced professionally with the Alvin Ailey company. Can you believe it?”

  “Yeah, I know, and this is where Gayle Harmon started.”

  “I know, that’s so cool,” she says excitedly. “So what are you doing in here? Do you have class?”

  “Nah, I’m just hanging out.”

  “Waiting for your girls?”

  “Nah, we don’t usually get together until the weekend. Today I just felt like dancing, so I skipped my last period and came here.”

  “Seriously, if I danced like you, I wouldn’t even go to school anymore. I’d get a job dancing professionally and start making some big bank.”

  I shake my head. “Nah, not my thing,” I say as I watch more students come in. They’re loud and rowdy. Ursula waves at a few girls in the class, but continues talking to me.

  “I gotta tell you something,” she says softly.

  “About Darien,” I say.

  She nods.

  “Yeah, I saw him today.”

  “His dad dropped him off last night. I hate it,” she says, looking away and shaking her head. “We always get stuck with him at the house. His dad gets him out and we have to deal with him. I swear my mom is so pathetic. Whenever his dad says do, she does. You know she still loves him even though he has a wife and family. They even hang out sometimes. It’s so pathetic. Somebody should really get rid of Darien permanently.”

  I look at her strange ’cause it’s the same thing Li’L T said, although I don’t tell her. A few seconds later the teacher comes in. The music starts and she tells everybody to start stretching. “I guess I’d better get out of here.” I stand up and grab my things. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Okay, later. Wait, what are you doing this weekend? My cousin is having a party.”

  “T’s supposed to come home, so we’re probably gonna hang out together,” I say. She nods. “I’ll see you later.”
She nods again, then looks away and starts stretching. I leave feeling kind of bad now. I didn’t exactly lie to Ursula, but I didn’t exactly tell her the truth, either. My boyfriend, Terrence, did say he might be coming home this weekend so we can hang out. But he said that last weekend, too, and he never came.

  I know he’s busy with college courses and his job. But ever since his old girlfriend, Gia, returned, I don’t see him as much. He says there’s nothing between them, but that’s what he thinks. What Gia thinks is something altogether different.

  I head back downstairs. Just as I get to the front door and reach for the handle, I hear my name called. I turn around and see Ms. Jay rushing toward me. “Kenisha, I’m glad I caught you. Do you have a few minutes?”

  “Sure,” I say.

  “Come into the office. I’d like to speak to you.”

  Okay, now my stomach jumps. I know anytime someone wants to talk to me, there’s trouble. I know I locked the sound system in the auditorium. I think. Crap, did I?

  As soon as I get to her office she turns around to look at me without saying a word. She’s just staring at me like she’s assessing me. “Um, thanks again, Ms. Jay, for letting me practice in the auditorium,” I say, starting to feel uncomfortable.

  “No problem,” she says, then walks over and sits on the side of her desk. “I need a huge favor and I’m hoping you can help me with this. Do you have any plans this evening?”

  “No, not really,” I say. “I was just on my way home, that’s all.”

  “Okay, two of my instructors called in sick and another one is going to be a half hour late. I’m going to combine beginning and intermediate ballet and teach that class, but that still leaves me with another class without an instructor. It’s the beginning hip-hop class and I really don’t want to cancel it. The students in the class are mostly in middle school. Do you think you can take that class for me? You don’t really have to teach them any moves, just talk to them about your experience here at the school and maybe show them a few of your earlier hip-hop routines. Also, there might be a few parents looking in. Do you think you can handle that?”

  “Can I use my own music?” I ask.

  “Sure, as long as it’s appropriate.”

  “It is,” I say quickly. Actually, it’s no big deal. It’s just showing the class a few steps.

  She nods. “Great, thank you. I’ll go in, introduce you and get you started.” She grabs a small portable sound system and I follow her to the second floor to the studio next to where Ursula is taking class. We walk in and there’re about fifteen middle school students already there. They start checking me out.

  Some of them I’ve seen before and they kinda know me from the neighborhood. Ms. Jay introduces me as one of her star dance students. She also says some other stuff about my dancing skills and my connection to Gayle Harmon, the choreographer. The kids start looking at me. Some look impressed and some don’t. Ms. Jay tells them to start stretching, then looks at me, nods and leaves. Okay, now all of the sudden I’m not as confident as I was in her office, but I know I have to do something.

  I stand there a few seconds and then pull my cell phone out of my bag and place it on the portable speaker dock. My music starts playing and I start feeling it. I tell the class to spread out. I show them a few basic hip-hop moves. They’re easy, so most of them pick them up pretty fast. I keep adding on to the first part, then about fifteen minutes into the class I get comfortable and start to relax. We practice dancing for a while longer, then I divide them into two groups for a dance-off.

  I show them what to do and how to do it, then encourage them to improvise from what I’ve taught them. They start dancing and I can’t believe how good they are. By the time the class is over we’re all dancing, joking, laughing and having a great time. I end the class by putting on my ballet slippers and doing what I call hip-hop ballet. They’re awed and I love it. When the class is over a few of the parents hang around to talk to me about my teaching. They basically tell me how impressed they are with my dancing. When they leave I take off my ballet shoes, get my cell phone and grab the music system and head out.

  As soon as I get outside the class I see this young girl sitting alone on the floor beside the door. She was in my class, but she wasn’t all that good. “Hi,” I say. She looks up at me. I already see attitude in her eyes. She looks pissed and doesn’t speak. She’s got her earbuds in her ears, listening to music. “Are you waiting for someone?” I ask louder.

  “Yeah,” she says louder because of the music.

  “Your mom?”

  “No, my brother, my half brother.”

  “Does he know where to find you?”

  “He’d better,” she says with way too much attitude.

  “Maybe he’s downstairs waiting for you,” I say.

  “He said to wait up here.”

  “What’s your name?” I ask her.

  “Hannah.”

  “I’m Kenisha. So are you taking any other dance classes, Hannah?”

  “Yeah, I had a ballet class earlier.”

  “Ballet and hip-hop are my favorites. Do you like them?”

  “No, not really,” she says drily, “but I don’t have a choice. I have to take them.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Ten.”

  “That’s a good age. I started dance class here when I was four years old. My girls and I have been coming here ever since.”

  She actually turns and looks at me. “Four years old? I can’t imagine you dancing at four.”

  “Well, I wasn’t all that good at it then. But I kept practicing and kept getting better. Look, I’ll show you a picture of me, come here,” I say. She stands up and we walk down the hall to the photos on the wall just outside one of the classrooms. My picture is still hanging there. I show her.

  She laughs, then looks at me. “You look funny.”

  I’m just about to respond when I hear that name I hate.

  “Check out Kenishiwa.”

  I stop cold. Only one person still calls me that—Troy Carson. I turn around and see him walking down the hallway smiling. “So you teach, too, huh,” he adds.

  “Troy, what are you doing here?”

  He smiles. “I saw you dancing.”

  I was a little surprised. I didn’t see him in the dance studio, but I was too focused on teaching and dancing to notice the people sitting and standing in the back of the room watching us. “What are you doing here?” I ask him again.

  “Picking up my little sister—she goes here now.” He playfully pulls an earbud out of Hannah’s ear and she pushes his hand away.

  I look at her. She rolls her eyes and pokes her lips out. But I can tell she doesn’t mean it. It’s the same way I pretend with my two little brothers. Then I see the family resemblance. They look a lot alike.

  When he walks up he turns to see what we were looking at. “Whoa, check you out. That’s you? How old were you?”

  “I was four years old.”

  “No wonder you look so good up there dancing.”

  “Careful,” I warn. “That almost sounds like a compliment. We wouldn’t want that. It would mess up your perfect record.”

  “It was a compliment,” he says softly. “You look really good up there.”

  I look at him strange, then look away. He smiles and I almost believe him—almost. “I saw you and your girls dancing one time. Y’all look really good, like professional dancers.”

  I shake my head. “We’re usually just trying out new moves. We keep changing the routine. As soon as we get it perfect we’re gonna show Gayle Harmon and Ty.”

  “That’s right, you roll like that. You know Tyrece Grant.”

  “You know Tyrece Grant?” his sister asks excitedly.

 
; I nod, looking at her instead of him. “Yeah, he’s a good friend of my sister’s. We all hang out when he’s in town.”

  “You mean like his entourage.”

  “No, he’s not really like what you see on television and read about in the gossip sites. It’s all just image. He acts all hard, but he’s a really nice guy.”

  “Is that what you like?” Troy asks.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “Nice guys. Is that what you like?”

  I’m no fool. I get what he’s saying. I know where this is going. But I can’t go there, not with him. “Yeah, I do. The guy I’m hanging with now is a nice guy.”

  He smiles and nods kinda like he’s about to challenge me. “Yeah, I heard. You and Terrence, right.”

  “Yeah, that’s right.”

  “How’s that working out for you?”

  “He’s at Howard and I’m here. We get together when we can,” I say. He nods like he hears me, but really none of that seems to faze him. He keeps looking at me, and believe me, I know that look. “Well, I gotta go. See you later.”

  “Yeah, later,” he says as his sister hurries back down the hall to get her dance bag.

  I quickly go downstairs to the office to drop off the iPod speaker system. It’s getting late and I know I have to get home now. “All done,” I say when I see Ms. Jay in her office.

  “Did you have a good time?” she asks.

  “Oh, my God, Ms. Jay, that was great. I can’t believe how much fun it was and they were really good, too.”

  “Actually, I hear you were just as good. As a matter of fact, quite a few of the parents mentioned they were really impressed with the way you taught the dance class.”

  “Really,” I say happily.

  “Yes,” she says, then pauses. “Actually, I was wondering if you’d be interested in a position here as student teacher.”

  “For real, seriously,” I say, totally stunned. I really didn’t expect to hear this. “So, do you mean like in an actual job working here?”

  “Yes, it would be slightly modified, of course, because of your age and experience. But I think we can work something out. So, what do you think?”