“Then you don’t have to hide it from anyone anymore, right?”
“I guess not,” I admitted.
“Then, misguided as it was, he did you a favor.”
I stared at him. “What do you mean? He spied on me and humiliated me!”
“Yes. But now they all know.” He took a sip of his coffee. “A secret like that is hard to keep, son. It eats away at you when you have to hide something from your friends. Especially when it’s something you love that you’re hiding.”
“But they were all laughing at me.”
“And tomorrow they’ll find something else to laugh at. You hid it like you had something to be ashamed of,” he said. “You don’t. You should be proud of your heritage, John. Remember who you are and hold your head up.” He patted my shoulder and grabbed his coffee mug. “Gonna get a refill,” he said, standing up.
“Okay, Dad.” I watched my father’s retreating back and thought about how cool my parents actually were.
Twenty-One
I spent much of the night tossing and turning. My mouth was still swollen, and it throbbed steadily. I touched it with the tip of my tongue for the hundredth time, then flopped over onto my side and pulled the blankets off with me. It was no use. I might as well get up, early as it was. There was no way I was getting any sleep anyway.
I glanced at my alarm clock. Five in the morning. And it was still dark outside. But I needed time to figure out what I was going to say to the team, and I couldn’t do that without a pot of coffee and maybe a bowl of cereal. I threw my legs over the side of the bed and sat up, yawning and stretching. My body had finally gotten used to the abuse it suffered at dance class, and I felt stronger and more agile. I stood up and padded down the hall and into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and find something to eat. It was quiet at this hour. My sister and parents were still asleep, and as I sat down at the kitchen table and looked out the window at the maple tree in the backyard, I felt peaceful for the first time in weeks.
When the coffee was ready, I poured myself a cup and blew on it. I put my feet up on the table, something my mother would have heartily disapproved of if she had been awake to see it. I sipped and felt the coffee burn my tongue slightly as I swallowed. I looked at the clock. Five thirty. Still an hour and a half until soccer practice. I could be in the gym by six and have an hour to do some strength training and figure out what I was going to say to everyone.
It was still quiet when I got to the weight room. I knew people would start trickling in soon, and I wanted to get a few reps in before they did. I settled on a bench and got to work.
“Need a spotter?” a voice called out near the door. I looked up in mid-chest press and saw Aiden walking into the room.
“Yeah! Come grab this, would you?”
Aiden walked over and helped lift the bar. “Come on. I think you’ve got another couple in you. Let’s go! Push it out!”
I grunted but pushed out two more chest presses.
Aiden helped me rack the weight bar. “Good job, buddy.”
“Thanks. We’ve got half an hour before practice. You can have the bench. I need to do some legs.” I stood up and wiped my face with a towel, grabbing my water bottle and taking a long drink.
Aiden sat down on the bench. “Spot me?” he asked. I nodded and stood behind him, helping guide the bar as Aiden started to lower the weight. “So…you’re here. Does that mean you’re still on the team?”
“Yeah. I am. If you guys will still have me. I think I owe everyone an apology first though,” I admitted.
Aiden racked the weight bar and sat up. “Well, you’re about to get your chance.”
I glanced over at the clock. Quarter to seven. We had to grab our gear and get onto the field before the coach got there.
* * *
I walked into the locker room, followed closely by Aiden. The last time I had been in there, Tanner and I had gotten into a fight. I saw Tanner standing by his locker, surrounded by the other guys who had been with him at the fight. He stood up straighter and whispered something to his friends, who turned toward me. They all knew about the fight, so they were looking between Tanner and me, waiting to see what was going to happen. They were either expecting another brawl, or hoping for one.
I headed straight over to Tanner and stood in front of him, Aiden still a step behind me. Tanner looked at me, waiting for me to speak but ready to throw a punch, if his clenched fists were any indication.
I took a deep breath and held out my hand. Tanner stared at it for a second, clearly surprised. He looked at me quizzically. I nodded, still holding out my hand. Tanner reached out tentatively, and I took his hand and shook it. Aiden let out a sigh of relief behind me.
I let go of Tanner’s hand and spoke loud enough for everyone in the room to hear me. “Tanner, I owe you an apology.” I turned to look at my teammates. “I owe all of you an apology. And that’s not easy for me. But in dance, they train you to be a warrior. And a warrior would own up to his mistakes. I let all of you down, and I’m truly sorry for that. I can’t quit dancing. But I can make sure that I’m here to train with you guys and to give 100 percent in every game.” I looked at Tanner again, then around the room. “If you’ll let me.”
“It’s okay with me,” Aiden called out.
“Me too,” one of my teammates called out, followed by others adding their own comments.
I looked at Tanner. “Well?” I asked. “What do you say?”
Tanner could be an idiot, but to his credit he actually looked around the room to gauge what the team wanted before he answered.
“I guess you can have another chance. But if you screw it up or let us down in any way, I’ll give you a black eye.”
I nodded at him. “Fair enough.”
“Then let’s get on the field before Coach makes us run laps again,” Aiden said.
It was a strenuous practice, but for the first time in ages, I was fully present. I had made things right with the team, and I was eager to show them that I meant what I’d said. I ran up and down the field. I passed the ball with pinpoint accuracy. And I made an absolutely stunning save when I dove in front of the net, arching my back and kicking a foot up above my head to send the ball flying back down the field.
“Dude! Nice save!” Aiden yelled out, slapping me on the back as he ran past.
“Nice move, McCaffrey,” Tanner called over his shoulder.
“Thanks. Maybe those dance classes improved my game,” I joked.
The team was completely in sync, and the coach was actually smiling and yelled much less than usual. “Good practice, boys. Keep that up and we’ll be unbeatable. Hit the showers, everyone.”
I fell into step beside Aiden and started for the school, congratulating him on a particularly great play.
“McCaffrey, stay back a second,” the coach called.
I stopped, and Aiden raised an eyebrow at me. “See you later,” he said before jogging off to the showers.
“Yeah,” I muttered. I turned around. “What’s up, Coach?”
“Listen, I just wanted to tell you that a lot of professional athletes take dance classes.”
I looked at him in shock. Of all the things he could have told me, this was the last thing I expected.
“They…what? Really?” I asked.
The coach nodded. “Yeah. They do. It helps with coordination and agility. Even helps build strength. Ever hear of Lynn Swann?” he asked.
“Uh, I don’t think so. Who’s she?”
“She? Oh dear Lord. Lynn Swann! He used to play for the Steelers?”
I shook my head.
“They called him The Baryshnikov of Football! He took dance classes to help him on the field.”
“Did it work?” I asked.
“Yeah, it did. And it’s helping you too. You’re more confident out there, McCaffrey. And I can see a difference in your game too.” He shrugged. “Anyway. I just wanted you to know that. Go hit the showers,” he called over his shoulder as he w
alked away.
I stared after him wordlessly. My dad was right. Tanner had done me a favor. I had forgotten who I was and that I should be proud of my culture. Both sides of it. And it was time I stood up to the boys at the Cultural Center.
Twenty-Two
I had a plan.
Santee was right. I had learned a lot from the boys at the Cultural Center, and if I wanted to dance, I needed to find a way to go back and fit in. I knew I belonged there, but I needed them to know it too, or I’d never feel comfortable. I had to prove I could dance as well as the rest of them. And to do that, I needed some help.
I needed my family.
* * *
I got home fifteen minutes before my mom came in with Jen, and twenty minutes before my dad got there. I was already in the kitchen, dicing tomatoes and slicing cucumbers for a salad by the time Jen ran in, looking for a snack.
I rapped her knuckles with the dull edge of the knife when she reached for a cucumber slice.
“Hey!” She rubbed her fingers and pouted.
“Those are for the salad.”
She gave me her patented puppy-dog eyes—they really were pretty impressive—until I gave in and passed her a chunk of cucumber.
She smirked at me and bit into it. “What’s up with you making dinner all of a sudden?”
I shrugged. My mom walked in, carrying pizza. The smell of cheese and pepperoni made my mouth flood with saliva.
“Are you making a salad?” she asked, stopping to put the pizza down on the counter.
“Don’t everyone act so surprised. I just thought I should help out since I’m actually home on time.”
“Well, I, for one, appreciate the gesture.” My mother kissed me on the cheek.
My father walked in and looked at me. “Are you making salad?” he asked.
“Oh, come on!” I threw the veggies on top of the lettuce I had already torn up into a bowl as Jen started laughing.
I carried it out to the dining-room table and sat down with my family. We all dug into the pizza and scooped salad onto our plates. I waited until everyone was on their second slice before I brought up my plan.
“So…you know how I’ve been going to the Cultural Center in the city?”
“Of course,” my mother said, chewing on her pizza.
“Well, as I told Dad”—I nodded toward my father—“I’ve been having trouble fitting in.”
My mother frowned.
“Some of the boys have been making comments and saying I don’t belong because I’m white.”
“That’s ridiculous!” my mother exclaimed.
“They don’t know anything about me, Mom. They’re just going by what I look like. Kinda like what happens to Jen sometimes, I guess.” I looked at my sister, and she nodded back at me. “I haven’t been able to dance well. I guess I’ve been feeling insecure or something. I haven’t stood up for myself, and I need to do something about that. I know that I deserve to be there too. I want to do something to prove it. To make an impression,” I finished.
My parents looked at me expectantly while Jen picked all the pepperoni off a slice of pizza and added it to a piece already smothered in pepperoni.
“That’s where you come in, Jen.” I watched as she looked up, surprised to be included.
“Me?” she asked, incredulous.
“Yeah, you. You’re the only one who can help me with this part. I’ll need all of you there at the next class. But Jen, I need you to help me get ready for it.”
“How?” she asked. “What can I do?”
“You took gymnastics for years,” I said. “You even went to gymnastics camp, right?”
“Yeah. So?”
“So I need to learn some tricks. Can you teach me a backflip?” I asked.
Jen grinned widely. “You bet I can,” she said and high-fived me.
Twenty-Three
Jen took me out into the backyard, climbed up onto our trampoline and started to jump.
“Hey! I thought we were going to work on my backflip,” I said.
“We are,” Jen said, jumping higher.
“How?” I asked.
She took one last big jump and flew into the air, then executed a perfect backflip before she landed on her feet again.
“Whoa!” I clapped my hands. “That was amazing! Do it again!”
Jen grinned and pumped her arms to get higher, bending her knees and then throwing herself backward again.
“All right, Supergirl. Let me give it a try.”
Jen came to a stop and helped me climb onto the trampoline. She moved to the edge as I started jumping in the middle of the trampoline.
“Wait, wait, wait! Stop!” she yelled.
I stopped jumping and stared at her, puzzled. “What?”
“You don’t start with jumping! You have to start by just standing still,” she said.
“What? Why?” I asked.
“Because I said so,” she replied sternly. “Now stand still.”
I nodded, raising my eyebrows at her. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Stand right in the middle,” she told me. “Feet shoulder-width apart. Good. Now put your arms above your head. Look straight ahead. Pick something to focus on.”
I followed her instructions. “Got it.”
“Good. Now bend your knees a bit. That’s too much! Better. Now swing your arms hard. That’s what’s going to give you enough momentum to do the flip. Harder! Don’t bend your elbows though.”
I stopped for a minute. “That’s a lot to remember.”
“Yeah, well, we’re just starting. Now focus!”
I nodded and started swinging my arms again and bending my legs. I had to admit, I felt a little silly, but Jen had been taking gymnastics and coaching kids younger than her for years. I had to trust her.
“Now, you don’t want to jump back…you want to jump up, okay?”
“Why?”
“Because I said so!” I raised an eyebrow at her. “Because you’ll lose your balance. Trust me. So just jump up—and you want to tuck your knees up. Good! That’s perfect. Keep doing that. Great.”
I jumped and did tucks for a while. I had this part down. “Now what?” I called.
“If you’re ready to try it, you’re going to tighten your muscles—your abs and your legs. And don’t throw yourself backward with your arms. You want to use your hips. Pivot back. I’ll spot you.”
Jen moved into the center of the trampoline while I stood still and tried to put it all together in my head.
“How are you going to spot me? I weigh twice what you weigh.”
“More, probably,” she said. “But my counselor at gymnastics camp weighed more than you, and I spotted him. I’m just going to put one arm behind you and one in front, and I’ll help you over. Ready to try it?” she asked.
I nodded and practiced swinging my arms around and bending my knees.
“Okay. So just do a big jump and pivot?” I asked.
“That’s it. I’ll help get your legs over.”
“Are you sure about this?” I looked at her, concerned I was about to break my leg. Or, worse, my neck.
“Trust me. I know what I’m doing. I swear.” She crossed her heart solemnly.
I laughed. “All right, let’s do this.”
“Yes!” Jen clapped her hands and got into position beside me. “Wait!”
I was about to jump but stumbled to a stop. “What?”
Jen moved to the side again. “Sorry. But why don’t you just jump and land on your back a couple of times? I forgot that step. Sometimes it helps to know that you’re not going to get hurt.”
I nodded thoughtfully. It made sense. I jumped a few times and then threw myself backward. I tensed up the first time, but the next two times I landed easily.
“Okay. I’ve got it. Let’s try the flip.”
“All right. Go for it!” Jen was back in position, ready to spot.
I looked ahead and bent my knees. I gathered myself…concentrated…and then jumped. A
s I flew into the air, I tensed up and pivoted my hips forward, tucking my knees into my chest and sending myself backward. I felt Jen’s hands on me, helping me flip backward. I landed on my butt and bounced hard.
“I did it!” I yelled, jumping up and hugging her.
She hugged me back. “Almost. Try to land on your feet this time. I don’t think the judges are going to be too impressed if you land on your butt.”
“Funny.” I stuck my tongue out at her. “Come on. Let’s try again.”
“Do you really think you can do a backflip in your costume?” she asked.
“Regalia,” I told her. She looked at me blankly. “That’s what the costumes are called.” I paused. “I think so. Eventually. I saw dancers online doing it, so I know it can be done. But let’s just focus on me learning how to do it in normal clothes for now. That’s all I really need to know how to do when I go back to the Cultural Center.”
“All right. Then let’s try again.”
It took another hour before I could land a backflip without Jen spotting me and without the crash landing. I high-fived her, utterly exhausted.
“You are one amazing coach,” I said, panting as I lay on the trampoline.
“Told you so.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, smirking at my obvious discomfort. “Now we just have to get you to do it on the ground.”
I groaned.
Twenty-Four
Jen had become my sidekick for the week. I was used to her being a pesky little sister, but having her as a backflip coach and cheerleader was amazing. She celebrated with me when I landed a perfect backflip on the grass in the backyard, she did her homework in the gym while I practiced my routine, and she gave me constructive criticism in the car.
“You’ve got that great capoeira move, but you’re still stumbling slightly when you land back on your feet,” she told me as we drove back from the community center.
The glowing orange globe of the sun was slowly sinking in front of us. I was exhausted, and everything hurt, but I still didn’t have the routine down.
“I know,” I said. “It’s the corkscrew move right after. Where I spin downward? It throws me off balance because all my weight is on one side.”
He Who Dreams Page 6
