Page 78 of Never Been Matched
Audrey does a pirouette and bows and the kids clap.
Vivien taps a finger on her chin. “Let’s all do an intro like Audrey. Everyone, get in a circle. We’re going to go around and introduce ourselves and then give us a quick shimmy or turn or jump or whatever you want to do. Ready?” She pulls a remote from her pocket and clicks a button. Music kicks on, and “Blame It on the Boogie” fills the space.
Carter comes up next to me as the kids start their introductions and showing off their moves.
I clap him on the back. “You’re going to have to participate.”
“What?”
“I’ll explain later, but you need to get in there and do all this with them.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “Wait, are you serious?”
“Graham is MIA.”
“So? Why don’t you step in?”
I shake my head. “I can’t. You know I can’t.”
He groans.
“Come on. It’s for Vivien. I’ll owe you one.”
He cocks a brow at me and then looks over at Vivien. “Maybe she’ll owe me one.”
I clench my jaw to keep my mouth shut.
He chuckles. “Don’t worry, I won’t steal your girl.”
“She’s not my girl,” I say, but he’s already walking toward the group.
Once introductions are done, Vivien clicks off the music and shows them some basic steps, like kick ball change, shuffle ball change, toe taps, and combining some of those simpler moves.
Vivien stays at the front so the kids can watch her, and Audrey saunters through the lines, helping some of them who are stuck, quietly showing them proper form.
Carter is terrible, worse than most of the kids, but Audrey skips over him, not even meeting his eyes.
Weird.
After they practice a series of steps multiple times, Vivien clicks on the music again. The kids move through them a little faster, resulting in a lot of stumbles and giggling and exclamations of pride and disappointment.
When the music ends, I clap.
Vivien looks over at me and smiles, a sunny, real smile, and my heart skips a beat.
She may not have fulfilled the terms of the will. This may be the end. But although she might be losing everything, she keeps going.
They spend more time practicing the simple routine, and before too long, parents start filtering into the room, standing in the back and watching. A few people I recognize wave at me, and a couple come over and stand next to me on the side of the room.
“All right, last time!” Vivien claps her hands, breathless but smiling. “From the top.”
Music clicks on.
The kids stomp and shuffle their way through the combination—shuffle, ball, change, heel, heel, toe—and a messy, joyful clatter echoes through the gym.
It’s not great, but they are all laughing and grinning, even Vivien, Audrey, and Carter.
When they finish, Vivien claps. “Beautiful!”
