Auggie & Me (25 page)

“You want me to give it to Summer?”

“Yes.”

So I gave the list to Summer to give to Jack and Auggie. I think Summer might have assumed that I had made the list myself, which I didn't correct because I
had
helped Maya work on the list, so I thought it was fine.

“How's the dance stuff going?” Maya asked me in her flat-voiced way that same day. I knew she was just trying to be polite, since she couldn't care less. But she was good that way. At least she made an effort to act interested.

“Crazy!!!” I answered, biting into my sandwich. “Mrs. Atanabi is absolutely insane!”

“Ha. Mrs. Mad-anabi,” said Maya.

“Yeah,” I said. “Good one.”

“It's like you've been hibernating the whole month of February, though!” said Maya. “I've barely seen you. You never walk home with us after school.”

I nodded. “I know. We've been practicing at lunchtime lately. But we'll be done soon enough. Just a few more weeks. The gala is on March fifteenth.”

“Beware the ides of March,” she said.

“Oh yeah! Right,” I said, though I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

“So, want to see the sketches for my newest colossal dot game?”

“Sure,” I answered, taking a deep breath.

She pulled out her notebook and launched into a detailed explanation of how she had stopped using grid patterns for her dots and was now using chalk art-style graphics to create murals, so that when the dots got filled in, they would “have a dynamic flow pattern.” Or something like that. The truth is, I had trouble following what she was saying. The only part I heard for sure was when she said: “I haven't brought my new dot game to school yet because I want to make sure you're around to play it.”

“Oh, sweet,” I answered, scratching my head. I couldn't believe how bored I was at the moment.

She started saying something else about the dots, and I glanced over at Summer's table to distract myself. She, Jack, and Auggie were laughing. I could guarantee you one thing: they weren't talking about dots! There were times when I really wished I had the guts to just go and sit with them.

Then I looked over at the Savanna table. They were all laughing and having a good time, too. Savanna. Ellie. Gretchen.
Ximena.
All talking to the boys at the table across from them: Julian, Miles, Henry, Amos.

“Isn't she awful?” said Maya, following my gaze.

“Ellie?” I asked, because that's who I was looking at that exact moment.

“No. Ximena Chin.”

I turned around and gave Maya a look. I knew she hated Ximena, but for some reason, the way she had said it, in this seething tone, just surprised me. “So, what is this thing you have against Ximena Chin?” I asked. “It's
Ellie
who ditched us, remember? It's
Savanna
who hasn't been nice to us.”

“That's not true,” Maya argued. “Savanna's always been nice to me. We used to have playdates all the time when we were in lower school.”

I shook my head. “Yeah, but, Maya,” I said, “playdates don't count. Half the time, our moms set those up. Now
we
get to choose who
we
want to hang out with. And Savanna is
choosing
not to hang out with us. Ellie is
choosing
not to hang out with us. Just like we're
choosing
not to hang out with some people. It's not that big a deal. But it's certainly not Ximena Chin's fault.”

Maya peered over her glasses at the Savanna table. As I watched her, I realized she still looked exactly the way she did in kindergarten, when we would have tetherball games in the playground or go on fairy quests in the park at sunset.

In some ways, Maya hadn't grown up that much since then. Her face, her glasses, and her hair—they were almost identical to what they used to be. She was taller now, of course. But almost everything else remained unchanged. Especially her expressions. They were exactly the same.

“No, Ellie used to be nice to me,” she answered very surely. “Just like Savanna was. I blame it all on Ximena Chin.”

By the end of February, we'd made thirty-six dollars!

Mrs. Atanabi had been late to every single rehearsal.

Every.

Single.

One.

It got so that she would actually come to rehearsal with crisp dollar bills all ready in her hands to give us. She would literally show up, begin talking, hand us the money without even acknowledging it, and start the dance class! It was almost like it was the price of admission. What she paid to get through the door. So funny!

Then at one point halfway through the month, she herself suggested upping the amount of the penalty she would give us for being late from one dollar to five dollars. This, she assured us, would definitely keep her from being late in the future.

But of course that didn't work, either. And now, instead of coming to rehearsal prepared with crisp one-dollar bills in her hand, she would come in with crisp five-dollar bills. Which she simply dropped on top of our backpacks by the door without saying a word. The price of admission.

Swoosh. Swoosh. Swoosh.

“God bless America.”

Even Ximena said that now.

Ascension
, in its world premiere at the Nelly Regina Theater, is the stunning debut by choreographer Petra Echevarri, recent graduate of Juilliard and winner of the Princess Grace Award. A mesmerizing reinterpretation of the dance fads of the '60s—as seen through the Kodachromic lens of the author's childhood in NYC's Barrio—this piece is a riveting and joyful homage to the scratchy, catchy, and soon-to-be-lost tracks of the decade. Chock-full of breathtaking leaps and innovative steps that belie Ms. Echevarri's own training in the classical style, the work takes one particular dance, the shingaling, and creates a visual narrative through which the rest of the work weaves.

“The reason I chose the shingaling as the centerpiece of this dance,” explains Echevarri, “is because it's the only one of the dance fads of the time that actually evolved over the years to reflect the musical styles and genres of the musicians and dancers interpreting it. There are so many types of shingaling: Latin, soul, R&B, funk, psychedelic, and rock and roll. It's the one dance that intersects every genre. The common thread.

“Growing up in the '60s, music was everything to me and my friends. I didn't have money for dance lessons.
American Bandstand
was my dance teacher. Those dance fads of the era were my training.”

Echevarri didn't begin formal dance training until the age of twelve, but once she did, there was no looking back. “Once I got into Performing Arts, and then Juilliard,” recalls Echevarri, “I knew I could do it. I could defy the odds. None of my neighborhood friends did. The 'hood is a tough place to leave.”

When asked why she chose the shingaling as the main theme of her dance, Echevarri grows wistful. “A couple of years ago, about a month before graduating from Juilliard, I attended the funeral of a childhood friend—one of those girls who used to come to my house for
Bandstand.
I hadn't seen her for years, but I'd heard she was in a bad way, had gotten in with the wrong crowd. Anyway, her mother saw me at the funeral, and said her daughter had made a gift for me, a graduation present. I couldn't imagine what it was!”

Echevarri holds up a cassette tape. “This girl had made me a tape of every shingaling song from our childhood. Every single one. ‘Chinatown' by Justi Barreto. ‘Shingaling Shingaling' by Kako and His Orchestra. ‘Sugar, Let's Shing-A-Ling' by Shirley Ellis. ‘I've Got Just the Thing' by Lou Courtney. ‘Shing-A-Ling Time, Baby!' by the Liberty Belles. ‘El Shingaling' by the Lat-Teens. ‘Shing-A-Ling!' by Arthur Conley. ‘Shing-A-Ling!' by Audrey Winters. ‘Nobody but Me' by the Human Beinz. An incredible song list. I don't even know how she recorded some of them. But when I heard these songs, I knew I was going to create a dance woven around them.”

The three dancers in the piece, all recent graduates of Juilliard themselves, bring a distinctive vocabulary to the montage, drawing viewers into an experience that is at once life-affirming and joyful, without any bubble-gum sentimentality. This lack of artifice owes as much to the rousing arrangement of songs, which blend seamlessly together, as it does to Echevarri's poignant narrative. Modern dance at its best.

Ximena Chin

Did you guys see the article I emailed you?

Charlotte Cody

O!M!G!!!! Is THAT really Mrs. Atanabi?

Ximena Chin

:) ;-O Crazy, right?

Charlotte Cody

R U sure? Who is Petra Echevarrrrarara?

Ximena Chin

It's her maiden name. That's her! Trust me. I was googling Gordy Johnson tonight and got bored and started googling Petra Atanabi.

Summer Dawson

I just read the article. Unbelievable! That's the dance WE'RE DOING!!!! Ascension!

Ximena Chin

I know! Amyaazzzinng!

Charlotte Cody

She looks so young and pretty in that photo.

Summer Dawson

Aww, that's so sweet, Ximena!

Ximena Chin

W@?????

Summer Dawson

That you were googling Gordy Johnson.

Ximena Chin

Yeah, well, now im curios too. I want to know what happened to him already.

Charlotte Cody

I shuldnt say this but My mom thinks that maybe he's—

Summer Dawson

Oh no!!! I think my mom thinkx so too.

Ximena Chin

Sorry guys. I sorta think maybe I agree . . .?????

Charlotte Cody

RIP Gordy Johnson??????

Summer Dawson

Nooooooo!!!!!

Charlotte Cody

I dont blieve it.

Summer Dawson

Me neither

Ximena Chin

K. 4get I said NEthing.

Summer Dawson

Said whaaaat?

Charlotte Cody

Ximena Chin

On completely unrelated note do yu guys want to sleep over my house 2moro night?

Charlotte Cody

Yea! Let me ask my mom. BRB

Summer Dawson

Sounds fun. Just us?

Ximena Chin

Ya. COme @ 6?

Summer Dawson

OK

Charlotte Cody

My mom says fine so long as your parents home?

Ximena Chin

Natch.

Charlotte Cody

My parental unit who is at this moment violating my personal space and reading my text over my shoulder wants me to finish homework so I GTG. CU2moro! Gnight.

Summer Dawson

Nighty night!

Ximena Chin

Til 2moro! Cant wait! xo

It was the first time we went to Ximena's house. Up until then, we'd always hung out at my house or Summer's apartment.

Ximena lived in one of those luxury high-rises on the other side of the park. It was a doorman building, very different from the apartments I was used to in North River Heights. Most of those are brownstones or small apartment buildings that are over a hundred years old. Ximena's apartment was ultra-modern. The elevator opened directly into the apartment.

“Hey!” said Ximena, waiting for us in the foyer.

“Hey!” we said.

“Wow, this is beautiful,” said Summer, looking around as she dropped her sleeping bag in the hallway. “Should we take our shoes off?”