Care to Dance?

Angie leaned against the risers at the side of the gym, watching other kids dance. She wished Aaron had asked her to the dance and regretted deciding to come alone. Then a hand appeared, outstretched in front of her. It was Maya. “Care to dance?” Maya asked. Angie froze. She’d been avoiding Maya after Maya confessed that she really liked her. She liked Maya, too, but was conflicted about admitting it. Doing anything in public like dancing would be too much. Angie couldn’t get her mouth to work or her feet to move. . . .

Please use the open space below to share your first 50 words on the topic ‘care to dance.”

Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

2 thoughts on “Care to Dance?”

  1. Around six years, my mom asked if I’d like to take tap dance or piano lessons. I never hesitated and chose tap, and my younger sister and I began weekly tap dance lessons at a studio some miles away. I have no recollection of getting into the car to go, but I do recall the regimental “Heel, Toe, Shuffle Step” and I think there was a “Slide” command in there, too. Little did I know this was leading up to a formal recital presentation and I begged to be excused. Mom was having none of it. So when the morning came to dress up and go, I was so nervous I threw up. She was boiling mad.
    “That does it!” she said, “You will now take piano lessons!”
    I think Daddy took Karen on to the recital while I stayed home with Mother. Next month, I was taking piano lessons after school once a week from Mrs. Bloomer, our church organist. She lived three blocks away and once I learned the route, Mom allowed me to walk home from there on my own.
    I regret not sticking with the tap dancing, for I so love to dance or watch tap dance and Irish clogging. Alas, I chose foolishly to abandon that opportunity. But it would have given me bone spurs, I know. And besides, now I can read music well, I played piano for my high school choir and most of the churches I have attended, accompanied soloists and now give lessons to wonderful students of all ages. Sometimes if we not suited for one skill, we shine in another.

  2. Little baby with your pretty bare feet
    pattering on the wooden floor,
    would you care to dance with me?
    With your little baby hands
    and chubby baby legs
    can we dance? Can we dance?
    Around and around the room we’ll go,
    around and around til the sun goes down,
    little baby, little baby, little child of mine,
    shall we dance?

An open space for your story

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: