No One's Watching by Sandy Green Page A

arrived at camp.
    Mr. Sean tipped his head side to side. “I guess not always. Occasionally, your arms are here.” He put them on his hips like in character class. “Sometimes you might hold another dancer’s hand.”
    I forced my eyes not to stray from Mr. Sean and spy on Blake’s reaction to all this.
    Mr. Sean waved us into the center of the room. “Don’t forget. Your arms may appear to do nothing, but they help your back support all of your legwork.” He rubbed his hands together and sat on the floor without using them to help him down. “Let’s sit and start with ab work.” He patted his stomach. “To strengthen our core.”
    Mr. Sean demonstrated a bazillion ways he wanted us to do crunches. Two bent knees, both feet on the floor or one foot across the other knee. Legs straight in the air. Curling your body around your legs or over them. Tucking one leg behind your ear. Ha ha. I made that one up. I’d no idea there were so many ways to torture yourself.
    My backbone ground into the floor. I was sore from yesterday, and this wasn’t helping.
    After we repeated each side ninety-seven times, Mr. Sean sprang to his feet. “Good job. Everyone stand at the barre . In Irish dance, we turn our legs and feet out when they’re on the floor. Not when they’re in the air.”
    I scratched my head and dragged myself to my feet. My spine was an apostrophe. I clung to the barre and rubbed my back with my free hand.
    Mr. Sean used Megan to demonstrate a grand battement leg kick, Irish dance style. Such long legs for a little girl. I straightened as we crowded around her. Megan held onto the barre with one hand. She turned out in first position with her heels together and toes pointing outward. Everything was okay. So far. When she kicked her leg in front of her face, her knee faced the ceiling. It wasn’t to the side, like in ballet.
    Mr. Sean propped his hands on his waist. “It might seem confusing at first, but you’ll get used to it.”
    My head hurt. This wasn’t going to work for me on so many levels. I took a deep breath. Then an aroma filled my nose. A lovely, delicious, woodsy smell.
    Someone drew close to my ear. “This is a lot harder than it looks.” Blake’s voice rolled into my ear like waves on a shell-free beach.
    I slid my eyes toward him. His nose brushed my cheek, and I nodded. I pretended we were characters in a graphic novel. I didn’t want to turn the page.
    Mr. Sean nodded at Megan. “One more time, please.”
    Yes, take your time, Megan. Please do. I’d like to freeze this moment while we all watch you, and Blake’s cheek warms mine.
    â€œWe’re the only two people in this whole, entire place who will ever understand how hard it is to go from ballet to Irish dance. Maybe we should practice extra on our own. After dinner.” Blake rubbed his chin.
    Blake and me, alone in the studio? Was that a date? My heart fluttered. Last year he didn’t notice me. He didn’t know my name and, most certainly, he didn’t smell like a senior in high school. This year I was “Kit” to him, and we were planning, for the first time, when we’d get together.
    Alone.

Chapter Ten

    I mentally shook my head like my mind had fleas. This is insane. Why would I need to rehearse Irish dance with Blake when I was certain I’d be joining Candace in character class? Or did he just want me to practice with him? Like a dance buddy? Still I was always willing to help another dancer. Even if I knew Mrs. Ricardo would bend to my mental will and get me out of this class. Sure, I’d practice with him. Besides, he was so cute.
    I expected Blake to gaze dreamily at me. Instead, he glued his stare to Megan. He pinched his brow and squinted his eyes as if someone dropped a piano on his foot.
    Mr. Sean hurried to the CD player. “Let’s try it with music. Four times with the