X lets out a whoop and our little cheering section goes wild. “Yeah, twenty-three!” Archibald yells.
We only get a short time to celebrate, though. One hour later, we’re all back in the main ballroom and in position, ready to dance for a spot in the finals.
X smiles down at me, definitely more relaxed than before.
“Don’t get cocky yet,” I tell him.
“I’ll wait until we win,” he says with a wink.
He’s not the only one feeling more relaxed. The energy of the whole floor is different from before. The smiles are bigger, the atmosphere looser. The audience feels it too. They’re even louder, screaming the numbers of their favorites.
The music starts, and we’re off. I lose myself in the music for the first four dances. I hope the feeling will last until the Argentine tango, but it doesn’t. My muscles tense as soon as the music starts. I concentrate too hard on X’s lead. Instead of dancing the music, I’m dancing the steps again.
Still, it’s not like we’re bad. We make it through the rest of the dance without any technical errors. But I know if we don’t make it to the finals, it’ll be my fault.
The wait for results is longer this time. The judges need to score each couple for each dance. Only six couples will make it to tomorrow’s finals.
We wait for an hour. There’s a lot of pacing and back-of-the-head rubbing. I do the pacing. X does the back-of-the-head rubbing.
Finally, it’s time for us to go back into the ballroom. I try to read our fate on the judges’ faces, but nothing doing. I try to read our fate on Fifi’s face, but nothing doing there either.
The lead judge gets on the mic. “Thank you, competitors. You were all wonderful. The judges would like to see the following dancers…”
The fourth number she calls is eleven. It’s the happily in-love couple from Westside Dance, the ones who are so good at Argentine tango.
The fifth couple she calls is number eighteen.
Once the applause dies down, the judge gets back on the mic. She smiles anI know something you don’t knowsmile.
I kind of want to dance on her grave.
“I bet you guys are just dying to find out who has the final spot,” she says, teasing us all.
Iamgoing to dance on her grave.
The audience hoots in agony.
X squeezes my fingers and smiles into my eyes.
I smile back into his and I don’t look away, not even when the judge makes her announcement. “Congratulations to couple number twenty-three. You have a spot in the finals.”
X pulls me into a hug.
“I told you,” he whispers into my ear.
All around us, everyone cheers.
CHAPTER 47
Becomes a Sea
AFTER WE MADEit to the finals yesterday, Fifi took us back to the studio for one last practice.
“Technically they’re not as good as you, but their tango is like sex,” she said as soon as we got there.
She was talking about the Westside Dance couple.
“Like good sex,” she clarified.
