The Secret Talent

by Jo Whittemore

  Before someone could tell me what to dance again, I asked, “Can we practice the divaratikos?”

  I was so swept up in the movements that I didn’t even see Uncle Theo return until we took a water break. Thankfully, he was smiling.

  I rushed over to him, wiping sweat off my face. “Am I back in?”

  Uncle Theo crossed his arms over his chest. “I told Mr. Humphries we needed to show future generations that our way of life isn’t just the old way; it is the way for all!”

  “And?” asked Gabby, who had followed me over.

  Uncle Theo leaned toward us. “If Tim can impress Mr. Humphries at Friday’s rehearsal, he’s in.”

  “Yes!” I jumped up and hugged Uncle Theo. “I won’t let you down, I promise!”

  Uncle Theo chuckled and patted my back. “Come, Timotheos. Let’s see what you’ve learned.”

  We practiced for another half hour before a different group, who had booked the room, arrived. My family and I had to leave, but I wasn’t ready to stop. As soon as we got back to the house, I started pushing furniture aside in the living room.

  “Can you guys help me?” I asked Gabby and Uncle Theo. “The couch is really heavy.”

  “Your parents aren’t going to like this,” said Uncle Theo. He squatted and picked up the couch all by himself.

  “Sure they are,” I said, swinging my arms and cracking my neck. “I’m embracing my roots!”

  Gabby found some Greek music on her phone and cranked it up. We practiced our full routine, and even though there were a few places I stumbled and got mixed up, overall I had most of it down. While Gabby and I danced, Uncle Theo coached.

  “Again,” I said when the last note played.

  Uncle Theo restarted the music.

  The second time was a little better, but I stumbled a bit when my phone started to vibrate with text messages and calls from Ryan. Luckily, Uncle Theo knew right away what the distraction was and danced my phone into the other room.

  “Tonight, there is only Greece!” he hollered. “Opa!”

  “Opa!” Gabby and I shouted back.

  Shortly after, the front door opened and Mom and Dad walked in with groceries. Like I thought, they weren’t upset at all about the dust we were making. Mom was watching in amusement, and Dad dropped his bag and jumped in on my other side, grabbing my hand and side-stepping like he’d been doing it his whole life . . . which he probably had.

  When the music stopped, I panted and shouted, “Again!”

  Gabby shook her head and made a time-out gesture with her hands. “I need water! And food!”

  “That’s a good idea,” Dad said, clapping a hand on Uncle Theo’s back. “What say we fire up the grill?”

  “But it’s thirty degrees outside!” Mom said with a laugh.

  “I’ve got to have some kabobs,” Dad said over his shoulder. “I’m feeling inspired!”

  Mom looked from me to Gabby. “So what brought on this sudden surge in dancing?”

  “We’re trying to make sure Tim gets in the performance.”

  Mom frowned. “Why wouldn’t he?”

  “It’s a long story,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Okay.” She kissed the top of my head. “You’ll tell us when you’re ready, I know.” A grin spread over her face. “For now, do you want to see if we can make s’mores before Dad and Uncle Theo throw any meat on the grill?”

  The next morning it felt like I’d dislocated a rib. My entire body ached as I rolled out of bed, but it was Tuesday, which meant I only had three days to perfect my performance.

  With every step down the staircase I groaned and whined. “Can we please put a fireman’s pole in this place?” I asked my parents, who were already in the kitchen.

  “How can a kid who plays so many sports be so out of shape?” asked Dad.

  “Dancing doesn’t exactly work the same muscles as football,” I said.

  When Gabby hobbled downstairs, she looked almost as rough as I felt. “Tim, I’m going to kill you if you don’t make it into the show,” she said.

  “You guys just need to stretch out,” Mom said, rubbing one of Gabby’s arms.

  “We’ll have plenty of time to do that today,” I said, giving my sister an evil grin. “Because there’s even more practicing to do!”

  Gabby moaned and buried her head in Mom’s shoulder. “Save me, Mommy.”

  “You know, technically, Gabby knows all the dance moves, so she can just watch while you do them,” said Dad.

  “No,” Gabby said with a forlorn sigh. “It works better with two people.” She pointed at me. “You’d better be getting me a really great Christmas present!”

  “Oh shoot!” I gulped down my orange juice. “I promised Brooke I’d help with gift requests before school.”

  Dad checked his watch. “If you can be ready to go in ten minutes, I can take you on my way to the dentist.”

  Despite my screaming muscles, I hurried back up the stairs and into my school clothes, pausing only for a second when I picked up my backpack. I’d never finished Ryan’s homework.

  “Tim, you ready?” Dad called from downstairs.

  “Yep!” I scooped up my bag and followed him out to the car.

  Fifteen minutes later I was staggering into the newsroom with a pained expression.

  “Oh, come on. Helping out isn’t that bad,” said Vanessa.

  “It’s not that,” I said, shifting the weight of my bag.

  “Here, let me.” Heather grabbed it while I rubbed one of my shoulders.

  Brooke raised an eyebrow. “You know you don’t have to carry the whole library with you.”

  I laughed and waved her off. “It’s not books; it’s lots and lots of dance practice. And I’m guessing you’re not mad at me anymore?”

  She shrugged and smiled. “At the end of the day it was your choice. But I gotta say it was a fun spy caper.”

  “Yeah, it kinda was.” I smiled back. “So how’s it going with the gift advice?” I asked, pulling a desk over to my friends. Nobody answered right away.

  “It’s . . . ,” began Heather.

  “Well . . . ,” said V.

  “Terrible.” Brooke chewed her lip. “It’s a lot harder to pick gifts for strangers than I thought. I keep making a list of five or six options because I’m afraid the first one won’t be good enough. And they’re still not right.”

  I nodded. “I’ve seen articles about what to get your favorite geek or bookworm, and it’s never anything I’d want.”

  “Well, of course not,” said Heather. “You’re not just a bookworm. You’re also an athlete and a museum lover and a theater buff.”

  “Are you guys doing any better at this?” I asked her and Vanessa.

  “My go-to answer is a gift card,” V said with a grin.

  I chuckled. “Smart.” I looked at the surveys and catalogs strewn across the desk, a valiant but failed attempt to define people by interests. “You know, I think our extra article for the newspaper is right here.”

  “Where?” Brooke asked glumly. “Under the survey where we got a score of negative one million?”

  “All of this.” I gestured to the table. “We can do a piece on how we tried giving advice on people, not problems, and how it didn’t work.”

  Vanessa snorted. “Mary Patrick would love that.”

  Brooke’s eyes lit up. “She would love that! We could even say this was an experiment!” She gripped my shoulders. “Tim, you’re brilliant! I wish I’d thought of it.”

  I pointed at her. “I’ll give you credit for the idea if you write the article.”

  “Deal!” Brooke’s smile faded. “Uh-oh. Your BFF’s here.”

  I glanced past her to see Ryan in the doorway. He was back to his new-and-improved self, minus the smile. “Can I talk to you?” he asked me, not even bothering to acknowledge my friends.

  “He looks pretty mad,” whispered Heather. “Do you think he figured out what Brooke did?”

  “I put it all ba
ck!” said Brooke.

  “It’s not about that. Give me a sec,” I told my friends, pulling Ryan into the hall.

  “You didn’t return my calls or texts,” he said with a huff.

  “Good morning to you, too,” I said. “I see you’re back in Ryan 2.0 mode.” I took in his clean clothes and styled hair. “And I was busy last night.”

  He clucked his tongue. “Well, you’re just going to have to make up for it today. My house still needs to be vacuumed, and my aunt told me I need to do all the laundry.”

  “I can’t,” I said. “I’ve got dance practice.”

  Ryan shrugged. “It’ll have to wait. Or do I need to remind you of what will happen?”

  There it was again. That threat to ruin my life.

  Which he was already doing every day.

  I wasn’t sure if it was because my body felt like it was on fire or because I’d done the right thing and Ryan still treated me badly, or if it was simply because I was so close to missing out on the museum performance. At that moment, I truly was done.

  I took a step forward and stared Ryan down. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, but he held my gaze.

  “I’m sorry your life is hard and your family isn’t the greatest,” I said. “And I’m sorry you think I’m spoiled and deserve to be tortured. And for the hundredth time, I’m sorry that I made fun of you in class and everyone laughed!” I shifted even closer to him. “But I will never let you control me again.” I clenched my jaw. “So go ahead. Tell the world.”

  Ryan blinked and backed up a few paces. “They’re all going to laugh at you.”

  “Great,” I said. “I love to make people laugh.”

  I crossed my arms, heart pounding a mile a minute in my chest.

  “Are you guys done yet?” Brooke poked her head out of the newsroom. “Did I miss the fight?”

  For a moment Ryan continued to stand there. Then he smirked. “We’re not done. Not by a long shot,” he said, and sauntered away.

  Vanessa and Heather crowded the doorway alongside Brooke. “What happened?” V asked as we watched Ryan storm down the hall.

  “I’m pretty sure I committed social suicide,” I said with a tight smile. “I just told Ryan he couldn’t blackmail me anymore and that I was fine with everyone knowing my secret.”

  “Awesome!” Heather held up her hand so I could high-five it. “I mean, not the part about everyone knowing, but the part about you finally standing up to Ryan!”

  I high-fived her back. “You should probably bask in the glory of my presence while I’m still popular.”

  “Awww.” Brooke squeezed my arm. “I’ll still be your friend, even when you become a ridiculous internet meme.”

  During homeroom I sat next to Gabby, and we did foot movements under our desk to practice our dances. Since we were trying to look completely innocent, it wasn’t long before we were cracking ourselves up. At lunch, my sister joined me in the newsroom, despite Mary Patrick’s protests, so we could practice some more.

  “This is a newsroom, not a dance hall!” she cried as papers blew off her desk when we moved past.

  “There’s nowhere else to practice,” I said.

  “How about the gym or . . .” She frowned. “Can I help you?” she asked someone behind me.

  I turned and saw a girl timidly waiting by the doorframe.

  “Someone gave me a note to give to you,” she told Mary Patrick, still standing by the door and holding out the paper.

  “Do I look like my arms will stretch that far?” asked Mary Patrick. “Bring it to me!”

  The girl jumped but hurried forward, waiting just long enough for Mary Patrick’s fingers to touch the paper before releasing it and hurrying away.

  “‘Tim Antonides is the dorky teen from the dancing video,’” Mary Patrick read aloud. Then she crumpled the note and threw it into the garbage. “Seriously, the gym or the library,” she told me. “Please, dance anywhere but here.”

  Gabby ignored her and reached into the trash can. “Someone just spilled your secret!” she said, gawking at me.

  “Yeah, Ryan,” I said. “I finally told him no more.”

  My younger sister (by three minutes) hugged me. “I’m so proud of you!”

  “And you can be rest assured, I am not printing that gossip in the paper.” Mary Patrick huffed.

  “Actually,” I said, “I think you should put it in. But could you wait and add it at the last minute? I don’t want anyone to leak the info before Monday.”

  Mary Patrick gave me a dubious look. “You’re really okay with people knowing? I thought it was a big secret.”

  I shook my head. “It shouldn’t have been. Please, print the piece.” I glanced at Gabby. “And mention that my sister and I performed at the Museum of Science and Industry.”

  Mary Patrick picked up her notebook. “Fine. I’ll put something together. In the library. So you two can dance.” She held up a finger. “But this doesn’t count as the advice column’s extra holiday piece.”

  “Actually, we came up with a different idea for that,” I said. “And it’ll be on your desk by Friday.”

  Mary Patrick smiled. “It better be.”

  “You’re pretty confident you’re going to make it into the show, aren’t you?” Gabby asked as Mary Patrick walked away.

  “Actually, I’m still pretty terrified,” I confessed. “But if I know it’s going to be in print, it just means I’ll practice even harder.” I positioned myself next to her. “Ready to go again?”

  For the next few days my life itself was a whirlwind dance. But when Friday afternoon came and the lyres started playing and my dance mates started the sirtaki, I was right there with them, step for step.

  When practice was over, Mr. Humphries, the choreographer, looked me up and down and said, “Your blouse is missing a button. Have it fixed before the show tomorrow.”

  And it was all I could do not to throw in a twirl.

  CHAPTER

  11

  Adrenaline Rush

  “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” Mom’s voice carried upstairs as she pounded a fist against the staircase wall. “We have to beat traffic, park, and hit the gift shop!”

  “That last one isn’t as high a priority!” Dad’s voice followed hers.

  I charged downstairs in my street clothes with my gym bag over one shoulder, but Mom pointed behind me.

  “Nope. You need to be in costume when we get there,” she said. “Unless you want to duck behind a Christmas tree and pull a Clark Kent–into-Superman move.”

  “Please don’t compare Tim to Superman,” Gabby said from the top of the stairs.

  “Hey, I’ve got the tights,” I said, running past her into the bathroom to change.

  She banged on the door. “I wasn’t done in there!”

  “I’ll be right out!” I promised.

  I slipped into my folk costume and dropped my street clothes in the bag just as Gabby started banging on the door again. “I need the hair spray.”

  The second I unlocked the door she pushed her way in and reached for an aerosol can and spritzed, creating a sticky, wet cloud of perfume.

  “Couldn’t you have waited until I got out?” I fanned the air and backed away, coughing.

  “Tim, are you dressed?” Mom’s voice called again.

  “On my way!” I took the steps two at a time and slid down the banister at the end.

  She looked me over and nodded approvingly. “Grab your jacket and get into the car. I’ll wrestle the hair spray away from your sister.”

  “Be careful!” I called. “It’s extra-strength hold!”

  Dad was already waiting behind the steering wheel, checking his phone for traffic updates. “We’re cutting it close,” he informed me as I buckled myself into the back. “Where are Mom and Gabby?”

  “We’re here!” called Mom.

  “Where’s Uncle Theo?” asked Gabby.

  “He’s going to meet us at the museum,” said Dad. “Something a
bout picking up his girlfriend.”

  I widened my eyes. “They’ve gone from dating to being a couple?”

  “Awww! Good for them,” said Gabby.

  “It’s a Christmas miracle,” I agreed.

  “Be nice,” Mom said, reaching behind her seat to squeeze my knee.

  Dad put the car in gear, and soon, we were in Chicago traffic.

  “There’s no way I’m going to find close parking,” he said. “I’ll drop you off up front and meet you inside.”

  “Fine by me,” I said. Even though I was more comfortable being a Greek folk dancer, I still wasn’t comfortable enough to walk several city blocks in full costume.

  Gabby, Mom, and I hurried into the museum and found Uncle Theo waiting by the ticket booth.

  “Sorry!” Mom said before he could speak. “We were running a little behind.”

  “It’s fine.” Uncle Theo hugged Gabby and me and then steered us up the escalator to the main hall.

  As soon as the rotunda was in sight, the spirit of Christmas was overwhelming. Beautiful trees with hundreds of ornaments and twinkling lights lined the entrance to the escalators and the edges of the rotunda. The trees had all been decorated by different community groups, so each was something special. At the center of the floor space was a massive forty-five-foot tree decorated with a superhero theme.

  “Awesome,” I said in a soft voice.

  “Too cool,” agreed Gabby.

  Kids were darting around one side of a big tree, catching fake snowflakes, but there was no time for us to play if we wanted to make it to our performance. Uncle Theo led the way to a room labeled “Holiday Stage,” which was already crowded.

  “Are all these people here to see us?” Gabby asked, wide-eyed.

  “Us and the other Greek performance troupes,” said Uncle Theo. “It’s an entire showcase. Ah. Here are our people!”

  He pointed to the side of the stage, where Mr. Humphries was wildly waving his arm overhead.

  “It’s about time,” he said when we ran over. “We were going to have to open with the second act. Are you ready to go?”

  Instantly, my heart hammered faster in my chest, but I nodded and shrugged off my jacket.