Mambo in Chinatown

—

Ryan, a natural athlete, improved faster than any other begi

After a few weeks, I asked him, “So do you have a favorite dance now?”

“Maybe the rumba. Or merengue.” We were doing the Cuban promenade in rumba. We’d separated and I was swinging in a slow circle around him with a Latin walk, involving much swaying of the hips. At the right moment, he tugged on my hand and I whirled to face him, then went into his arms, back into dance position. “But I don’t look quite right.”

“What do you mean?”

He stopped dancing. “All that stuff.” He waved his hands, gesturing at my hips. “I mean, I don’t expect to look like you, but when I see myself in the mirror, I seem kind of stiff.”

“Umm, that’s because your hips don’t sway. At all.”

“So I’m still dancing like a white guy?”

“You know a lot of steps.” I wasn’t sure what to say. I’d always been honest with Ryan. “You’re here to learn how to be a social dancer. That means how to partner someone at a party or wedding and have a good time, and you can keep your hips frozen solid if you like. If you really want to learn to move, that’s a whole other world.”

“That guy doesn’t dance like a corpse.” He gestured toward Keith, who was doing a routine with Simone. Keith was all long lines and grace on the floor, and he looked wonderful with Simone, who swirled around him with her left leg outstretched in an extended spiral. She wrapped it around his hips, then he turned them both around so they were facing the same way. She unwrapped from him with a swish and they moved toward the mirror in parallel like two great cats. I’d noticed they were doing more set choreography recently, probably preparing for another competition.

“He wins everything. Everyone loves dancing with him.”

Ryan studied him, carefully not looking at me. “You too?”

“What?” Then I understood. “Keith’s a great, considerate partner. Yes, I enjoy dancing with him at the parties.”

He flexed his shoulders. “I could take him in a fight.”

I laughed. “You’re probably right, but in a dance studio, that’s not relevant.”

“Yeah. So teach me to dance better than him.”

“That’s not easy. You’ve been dancing for a couple of weeks. He’s been here for years.”

“You don’t know how determined I can be once I get my mind set on something.”

I saw that he was serious now. “Ryan, the level of technique you’re talking about is beyond the number of lessons you were pla

“Well, maybe I’ll extend.”

—

Later, in the teachers’ room, Nina said, “I was standing right behind you guys, not that you noticed me. Maybe you should try to make a competition student out of Ryan.”

“I know him. He’s shy about his dancing. He wouldn’t want to do it.”

“It sounded like he did.”

“He wanted to prove some manly thing about how he’s better than Keith. That doesn’t mean he wants to dance in front of people. He can’t even move his hips.”

“Give the man a break. He has to be taught. But the thing is, if you can get him into competition, he might blow everyone else away. Some students have had ballroom lessons somewhere else and we need to completely rebuild them. It’s better to get someone fresh, like your guy. He’s new, he’s cute and he’s talented. He can go far.”

I didn’t say what I was thinking: how could I ever afford it? I was giving so much of my salary each week to Pa toward Lisa’s treatment and our other bills. “I don’t think I can get him to do it, and I don’t even have a competition dress.”

“So what? Buy one.” Nina went over to the clothing rack, which was always filled with formal wear and ballroom dresses, and pulled out one of Simone’s Latin costumes. It was two brief pieces, covered in bright gold sequins. “This would look fabulous on you. Try it on.”

“No way. That’s not a dress, that’s a bikini with fringe.”

She shrugged and hung it back. “Your choice, your life. But you know what you should do? Ask him to go for that scholarship with you.”

I tried not to look as shocked as I felt. “The one for fifteen grand? Aren’t you and Simone doing it?”

“Simone is. She’s already working on something with Keith. But I don’t have anyone who’s willing to dance with me, I’ve tried. So the studio only has one couple in that competition right now and the truth is, none of my students would have a snowball’s chance in hell against Keith anyway.”

“Come on, if your students are outclassed, what kind of odds would Ryan and I have?”

Nina said cheerfully, “None. Not really. But wouldn’t it be fun? And you wouldn’t have to worry about school figures and keeping him in the proper alignment. You could just do a little routine together. I can tell you, you’ll both improve like crazy if you prepare for a competition.”

I’d heard that before. “I’ll have to think about it.”

—

We were supposed to hear about the Hunter test near the end of February, but although Lisa ran to check the mailbox every day, there was no letter. The days passed. Then Lisa came home and said that Fabrizio hadn’t gotten in. Was this a good sign or a bad one? Were they sending rejections first? We didn’t know. Maybe something had gone wrong with her test. Then Ha

I phoned Mr. Song at school and when I explained the problem, he said, “I’ll check with Hunter but I don’t think you need to worry yet. Although they give a certain day as the notification date, it’s quite common that some letters are delayed.” He called me back later to say that we should be expecting the news very soon now.

I didn’t even care if Lisa had been accepted or not anymore, I just wanted the whole ordeal to be over. She’d started chewing on the ends of her sleeves, so that I found tiny holes in her shirts near the wrists.

Then, on Saturday, more than a week after we were supposed to have received the notification, Lisa came hurtling upstairs with a thin letter in her hand. It had the purple Hunter logo in the corner. Pa and I came ru

“Well?!” I said.

“I can’t open it, I’m too scared. I’m going to throw up. Charlie, quick, you do it.” Lisa tossed the sealed letter at me as if it were burning her fingers.

With Pa leaning heavily on my shoulder, I ripped the envelope open and read, “Congratulations, you have been—”

Lisa and I both shrieked. She leapt into my arms and we hugged while Pa wrapped his arms around both of us.

“I can’t believe it,” she panted. “All those other kids.”

“You deserve it,” I said. “I’m so happy for you.”

“But,” said Pa, drawing away, “I haven’t decided yet if Lisa will accept or not.”

We both froze.

He continued, “There is the long train ride to the school, and maybe it will be too hard for her. I still don’t like it that it’s out of Chinatown. All of these problems started with this whole Hunter thing.”

I read the rest of the letter. “Since we heard so late, we have to decide within a week. They have an event called Hunter Day next Tuesday, that’s just a few days away. Students and parents are invited to attend. Then we need to make a final decision by Friday.”

Pa said, “You go, Charlie.”

“I bet I can go to work later that day. But you should accompany us, Pa. Then you can see what the school really is.”