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constant energy, even when he wasn’t happy with whatever he saw. He demonstrated the same series of steps to a little girl who couldn’t have been more than ten, and Chico couldn’t catch a glimmer of any kind of frustration or misery on his face.
    The kids didn’t seem discouraged at being corrected. Either Rafael was being gentle again, or the teens were perfectionists, or both.
    The scene was one in which all the younger children got to dance. They looked almost like they were waltzing, which Chico was pleased to recognize. He guessed it was supposed to represent a kind of ballroom or court scene. The posters had said the ballet was The Clockwork Dancer , though, so he wasn’t quite sure what that meant since he’d never heard of it. Maybe they’d added the scene simply to give the younger kids their moment to shine.
    That sweet thought made him smile as the kids went through their routines again, and Rafael stopped them and said something that made the students laugh. The precise, measured way he moved seemed even more obvious in the presence of children and teenagers trying to copy it.
    Chico sighed in a way he shouldn’t just to watch a man cross a room.
    He wondered again why Rafael wasn’t a dancer anymore, although even Chico could tell he was a truly gifted teacher. The kids loved him and listened when he made suggestions. Only one frowned when he offered criticism, but she looked stressed already and in need of a cookie or a hug. Rafael must have noticed that too, because he took her to the side in the next moment and bent down to speak earnestly until she finally nodded and gave him an uncertain smile that made Chico forget his paintbrush all over again.
    “You’re staring,” Davi spoke into his ear, making Chico jump and slap a hand down to the tarp. It hit the handle of his paintbrush and sent it flying. It landed in the middle of the clock face, leaving another smudge Chico would have to try to repair when it dried. “Oops?” Davi continued, but crawled over the dry half of the canvas to retrieve the brush for him.
    Inside the practice room, they paused the music again, and Chico looked up to see the little ones starting to leave. Ah. So it was time for the older teens with the bigger roles to rehearse in more depth. Rafael said good-bye to each and every child trailing out of the room.
    Chico had guessed right. Rafael would probably fit right in with a large family and a room full of babies, even if he didn’t want any himself. John never had, but he’d never seemed to want to learn either, even just to be polite to Chico’s relatives.
    “You’re still staring.” He could practically hear the raised eyebrows from Davi.
    Chico finally glanced over. “Do you think a person can learn to be a better judge of character? Because I would’ve said John was basically a decent person who would never be cruel to me, even accidentally.”
    “Remember, you have to pay attention to the other dancers.” Rafael’s voice carried outside with more clarity now that the music was temporarily gone. “Especially your partner. Complementing them is about matching your movements to theirs, which means knowing them, noticing what their bodies are telling you about their mood and their intentions and their feelings. When you don’t do that, you’ll not only have a stiff, awkward dance, but you could actually cause damage. Don’t force anything. Just pay attention and try to make each other better. And for God’s sake, no showing off. You know who I’m talking to.”
    The teenagers let out a stream of nervous giggles.
    “You like him.” Davi made a thoughtful noise and ignored Chico’s shushing sounds. “I can see it, objectively. You always did like them sort of classical looking—straight nose, graceful, clean-cut. Then there are his muscles. He’s not even my type, and I noticed them.”
    Chico had to fight to stay quiet. “Davi. Shut up. He’s hot. I noticed. Leave it alone.”
    “How about