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says.
    “What do you mean lying ?” I ask.
    “She asked me why I missed dance the other day, and I made up some excuse about helping my mom, which I totally think she didn’t believe, because my mom knows I have dance on Wednesdays. And now I’m going to have to lie to her again.”
    “Why?”
    “We’re going skating this Wednesday. Nini’s going to ask again.”
    “Wait! You’re going to miss another dance class? Can’t you go another night?”
    “It’s the only night he’s free. His team is playing in some tournament all the other nights this week.”
    “So it’s okay for you to skip class but it’s not okay for him to miss a game?” I ask. My voice rises as I speak. I can’t believe Angela is cutting out on dance class again.
    “It’s a practice. I’d never miss a performance, just like he’d never skip a game,” Angela says.
    “I can’t believe you’re missing another class,” I say.
    “That’s not the point. The point is Nini.”
    “It is the point.”
    Angela sighs. “No it’s not. Nini’s more important. I don’t want to lie to her, and I don’t want to give up Jonas. What should I do?”
    “I have no idea,” I say. “I really don’t. I don’t know why you would even go out with a guy who makes you miss dance class, especially when the festival is only a few weeks away.”
    “You don’t understand,” she says.
    “I gotta go home,” I say.
    Angela eyes me as I gather my bag and sweater. “Fat lot of help you are,” she says as I stand up and step onto the path.
    I shrug. “Get him to go another night. Easy peasy,” I say.
    “What about Nini?”
    “You’ll have to tell her sometime. Better make it now, before it goes too far.”
    Angela stands up and picks up her bag. “You don’t get it,” she says.
    “You’re right,” I say. “I don’t.” And I walk down the path to the sidewalk.

Ten
    E ve stands in the middle of the room, a fierce look on her face as she drills hip circles half time, then quarter time, then full time. I can see her through the doorway as I pull off my coat and boots and slip on my leg warmers. I skipped last period to come here early, hoping I’d be alone so I could practice in front of the mirror. After yesterday’s fight with Angela, it was a good excuse to avoid her after school, and I also want to dance perfectly today.
    Though I’m making a bit of noise, I don’t think Eve notices, because her concentration never falters. Over and over she drills the same move, until her hip muscles must be tired, but the movement is flawless. As the song ends and another begins, her body shifts to meet the new tempo, and she somehow manages to stay on the right beat without making any jarring changes.
    “Join me,” she says when I come into the studio.
    I walk across the dance floor to stand next to her. “I didn’t think you heard me,” I say.
    She nods at me through the mirror and says, “Chest circles next, starting right.”
    I take a moment to settle into my posture, and then, on the beat, I slide my chest to the right, lift in the center, slide to the left and drop back to neutral. It’s jerky at first, as I warm up, but after a couple of circles the movement smooths out. I can feel my upper abdominals and the muscles in my upper back working. It takes concentration to make sure each movement is made with the proper combination of muscles so that my lungs and diaphragm are clear and I can still breathe easily.
    Eve and I practice together to the beat, our breathing following our bodies, so we look and sound like one being, separated by a foot of space. For a second I see the whole troupe standing here, all in colorful skirts and sparkly scarves. A whole row of girls moving as one. It will be spectacular.
    I just hope I’m one of them.
    The image only lasts a second, and then I’m back to seeing Eve and me standing in our tank tops and yoga pants and leg warmers, with sweat on our faces. The song ends, and Eve turns and hugs