Shoulders tightening, I got beside her and watched her feet work the moves again. There were three, all on the same count, which made it easier considering I’d been used to the measure. But the moves I used to do were slower, based more on balance and flexibility. I should probably be happy she wasn’t making me do ballet considering I’d barely gotten my balance back from yoga.
When I joined in with her, I managed to mess up the second move and counted wrong on the third one. She snorted when she saw my mistake, standing in front of me and counting my footwork. “No, no. And what are you doing with your arms? You look like they’re tied to your sides.”
I stopped moving and glared. “I’m not used to this. Judith normally—”
“I’m not Judith,” she pointed out. “Come on, it’s not that hard. You need to get into the music. Wait for the next chorus and then start again. Bounce each step and use your hands to clap with every count if you need to. Then, with the second one, stay on your toes instead of flattening your foot. It’ll help you move faster so you don’t go offbeat.” She showed me what she was talking about by giving me a sideview of her sneakered feet.
The second time was better, the three moves melding together even if I was slower than the song. It was when she introduced three more moves that was supposed to build off the first set that had me frustrated over the stiffness in my body. The way she stopped me gave me flashbacks to some of my first dance classes with Judith. That woman was tough—nightmare worthy, even. I remembered some days when I begged my mother not to go because I didn’t want to be yelled at. It was my mother who told me I would be fine because I was a natural.
“Ms. Judith can’t scare you if you don’t let her, sweet Della. You’re made for this.”
It was thirty minutes in when I called a water break and watched as Tiffany moved across the floor to a different song. Unlike me, she faced the mirrors and watched herself, her hips bouncing along, her booty kicking out, and her legs gliding across the hardwood with the squeak of her shoes. She had serious moves and a flawless rhythm down to the music.
I wiped off my mouth. “How long have you been doing this?”
Tiffany turned to face me, wiping off her forehead before shrugging. “A long time. I’ve always been interested in more contemporary dance but was always trained in classical and ballet. My obsession really started after we did Swan Lake. I saw a video online of a hip-hop version. Like a mashup, you know? I thought it looked cool, so I taught myself the steps. I never stopped after that.”
“If you prefer contemporary, why not make the switch? Is it because of your parents?”
Her shoulder lifted. “Partly. It isn’t like I hate ballet, I just feel more in tune with contemporary. It’s like my body feeds from the energy that the moves make. Plus, it’s easier not to pick fights with my mother about these things. Choose your battles and all that.”
My lips twitched. “Does she know you dance to this? She’d probably be impressed if she saw the way you moved.”
The noise that rose from the back of her throat told me I was wrong. “We don’t all have the same kind of mother you did, Della. Mine is all about the competition just like most of the other dance moms. The more publicity, the better.”
I cringed. “Publicity isn’t everything.” My mind went back to the article that was missing in action. It made me itch, anticipating the worst like it was coming at any second. I should have taken Lydia’s calls and asked what she knew, but if she really wanted to tell me she would have left a message instead of sending Theo after me like I suspected.
Something smacked my face. I frowned at the hair tie that had bounced off me and onto the floor before looking back up at Tiffany. “You suck at paying attention today. What’s up? Is it the mirrors, because I’m trying to teach you stuff that doesn’t require a lot of turning. I mean, we’re going to learn some songs that we’ll practice in front of them but not today. Baby steps.”
I shook my head. “I appreciate that, but it doesn’t have to do with dance. Although, you’re kicking my ass. I knew it wouldn’t be easy getting back into this, but learning how to work my body to all new music is…”
Tiffany cracked a grin. “Finally, something I’m better at than you,” she teased. “So, if it’s not dance, then what?”
“I really don’t—”
“You’ve avoided both Ren and me for days. I was shocked you even texted me last night confirming today. I was sure I’d have to come to your place and drag you out by your hair. Did you even go to class this week?”
I rolled my eyes and set my water back down against the wall beside hers. “It’s family stuff. Things at brunch last weekend didn’t go like I’d hoped. And, yes, I went to class.” Well, I’d gone to Ribbons. I couldn’t have her hating me more by skipping, no matter how much I had wanted to. The way she’d watched me throughout class had been unnerving, like she knew something. I’d made a run for the door as soon as time was up, and I was sure that made her day.
Tiffany’s brows arched in silent inquiry. I weighed my options, going back and forth on whether to tell her what was happening. I needed to talk to somebody about it because my next appointment with Ripely wasn’t for another week. I’d probably
