I groan, but on the inside.
“Begin,” she says with a stomp of her heel.
X starts, but on the wrong foot. We go in opposite directions.
“Left foot!” says Fifi.
“Shit, sorry!” says X.
He gives me a rueful smile. A smile full of rue.
We start again with Fifi calling the count. Bachata is all about small steps, but X’s are too big.
Fifi corrects him, but then he overcompensates by making them too small.
He steps on my left foot four times in a row. He says “Shit, sorry” after each foot stomp. I decide it’s his favorite expression. It’s possible I should wear steel-toed boots to our next practice.
Fifi moves us on to the forward basic and then to turns.
“For spot turn, lead is very important,” she tells him. “You have to steer her a little bit. Let her know what you want her to do.”
The first time we try it, I end up in his armpit.
“Maybe steer a little less,” Fifi says, laughing. “She is not large construction vehicle.”
I end up in his armpit again.
We practice without the turn for the next twenty minutes until we’re both sloppy from tiredness.
“Okay, is enough for one day,” says Fifi. As soon as she says it, I drop X’s hands and put a few feet between us.
He frowns at me but turns to Fifi. “So you think we can win this thing?”
She scoffs. “What is expression about cart and horse?” she asks him.
“Don’t put the cart before the horse,” says X.
“Yes,” she says, nodding. “In this case, don’t bother with cart, because horse might be dead.”
X catches my eye and laughs so big and deep that I can’t help but laugh too.
“What is funny?” asks Fifi. “The only way to win is practice, practice, practice. I see you tomorrow. We work on other dances. Do not wear little hobo clothes again.”
With her gone, the studio feels small. It gets smaller with every second that passes.
“Okay, see you,” I say to X, and all but run to the closet to get my backpack.
He’s right behind me when I turn around.
“My guitar’s in there,” he says.
I move out of his way and then move myself out of the studio and into the hall closet to get my bike. I’m just starting down the stairs when I hear him behind me.
“So how’d you get roped into this?” he asks.
I can’t tell him the real truth, so I tell him the half version of it that I told Archibald and Maggie. “It sounds like fun,” I say.
“You still think that even thoughI’myour partner?”
