“Alright, everyone inside before the boys find an excuse to vanish!”
Nandita’s voice rang out like a schoolteacher with a tir on her patience. She stood just outside the multipurpose room of the student center, clipboard in one hand, a water bottle in the other, eyes already scanning for stragglers.
“You heard the lady!” Marisol yelled, clapping her hands. “If you can bench press, you can Bollywood.”
Tyrel pretended to trip over an invisible step. “That’s discrimination against rhythmically challenged n!”
“You have rhythm,” LaTasha said, tugging him inside by the wrist. “Just not where you think.”
“Yo!” Jorge called out, spinning in place. “We’re gonna look like those inflatable thingies next to you people.”
“Which is why we’re putting you in the back,” Nandita said sweetly.
“You an, in the shadows of all this beauty?” Ravi said, motioning to the girls. “Yeah, we can live with that.”
Sarah gave him a high-five as they filed in.
The room was big, its hardwood floor gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Portable speakers sat near the front, already hooked up and humming gently. Camila was stretching at the front, her hair tied into a bun, leggings hugging her dancer’s form. She looked like she ant business.
Mia’s eyes were wide as she entered, clearly delighted. “So this is where the magic happens?”
“You’re joining us,” Nandita said, matter-of-factly. “We need an even ten.”
Mia blinked. “Wait - really?”
Sarah grinned. “You dance, don’t you?”
“I was co-captain of my high school’s dance team,” Mia said, still stunned. “You want ?”
Camila turned, already smirking. “Show us what you got.”
Five minutes later, music pulsed through the room-an infectious beat blending Bollywood percussion with modern fusion. The speakers shook slightly with each drop. Everyone gathered around as Camila took center stage, demonstrating a series of fluid hip rolls, arm flicks, and graceful turns.
Mia watched once.
Then stepped forward.
She mirrored the steps like she’d choreographed them herself.
Effortless. Sharp. Perfectly tid.
Nandita dropped her clipboard.
Camila blinked.
“Okay,” Camila said slowly, walking around her. “You’re dangerous.”
Marisol let out a wolf whistle. “Mamacita!”
Mia flushed, but her smile was electric.
The group broke into partners to begin learning the basic formations. Nandita and Camila circulated like coaches. Sarah and Marisol kept pace easily, helping each other rember hand angles. LaTasha shook her hips with ease and laughed every ti soone crashed into her.
The boys…
Well.
Tyrel nearly punched Ravi in the face trying to execute a turn.
Jorge kept counting out loud like he was solving a math problem. “One and two and spin and what the-oh hell.”
Ravi looked helpless. “I was born with flat feet. And a flat rhythm.”
“Do we have to dance?” Jorge asked during the water break. “I an, look at them. Why ruin that symtry with this?” He motioned to his own limbs.
“I second that,” Tyrel said. “I’ll wave a flag. I’ll hold a lamp. Hell, I’ll run the lights.”
Nandita narrowed her eyes. “I could put you all in the back and make you props.”
The boys perked up.
“Props?” Ravi asked.
“You’d still be dancing,” she said. “But in the periphery. Very… functional. Minimal flair.”
“Functional!” Tyrel bead. “That’s our brand!”
Jorge fist-bumped him. “Basic waving and occasional jumping?”
“Sold,” Ravi said.
Camila rolled her eyes. “We’re creating art. You’re creating background noise.”
“Then we’re the percussion,” Jorge said. “Low, dumb, and vital.”
Once the boys were settled into their minimalist “prop” choreography, Nandita turned to the girls.
“We’re leveling this up.”
She had them do two full passes of a rotating semicircle formation, added intricate hand mudras for the chorus, and-on the fly-adjusted Mia and Camila’s positioning to the center for the dance break.
Mia thrived.
Her body seed to ride the music, her every gesture echoing the beat. She snapped into turns, hit accents, and even began teasing Marisol mid-dance with competitive flair.
“Oye!” Marisol said, mock-glaring as Mia spun ahead. “Don’t make regret giving you my old dance shoes!”
“You’re just mad because she out-mija’d you,” Sarah teased.
Mia winked.
Nandita clapped above the music. “Alright, queens! You’re killing it. Tomorrow, we’ll try the routine with the transitions-but for day one? I am floored.”
The final cooldown was chaotic in the best way. Jorge lay flat on the floor like he’d survived a marathon. Ravi was drenched and muttering sothing about petitioning for air conditioning rights. Tyrel was pretending to ice his ego.
anwhile, the girls had collapsed into a pile of giggles near the mirrors.
“I want sothing glittery,” LaTasha declared.
“No glitter,” Camila groaned. “Not again.”
“Too late,” Sarah said. “I’m already imagining golden bangles.”
Mia sat between Marisol and Nandita, practically bouncing. “What if we wore matching blouses? Maybe purple and gold?”
“Ooh,” Marisol gasped. “Purple silk with gold embroidery?”
“Guys,” Nandita said, already flipping through her notebook. “We need to make a costu plan now. Coordinated colors. Dupattas. Jewelry. Mia, can your mom sew?”
“She lives for this stuff,” Mia said. “She once made an entire costu in two days.”
The girls spiraled.
Words like sequins,mirror work,midriff cut, and ghungroos were flying.
Camila held up a hand. “Wait. We still have to check the lighting grid. If we’re dancing in semi-dark with candles, we can’t do anything neon.”
Sarah pouted. “But I bought neon bangles…”
LaTasha waved her arms. “GLOW-IN-THE-DARK DANDIYA STICKS.”
Nandita gasped. “STOP. That’s brilliant.”
The boys took this as their cue.
They slunk out the side door one by one, carrying their water bottles and dignity like trophies.
“Bless their hearts,” Marisol muttered, watching them go. “They lasted longer than I expected.”
“They danced like broken scarecrows,” Mia said.
“And still more graceful than Jorge’s attempts at twerking last month,” Camila muttered.
As the costu discussion exploded in a corner of the room, Nandita sat back and smiled.
The energy was right.
For the first ti, the entire group had a rhythm. There was laughter, movent, sparkle. And now, with Mia’s natural talent in the mix, the performance had leveled up beyond her wildest expectations.
She looked across the room.
Camila was doodling skirt silhouettes on her notes.
LaTasha was holding up a dupatta and spinning like a princess.
Sarah was coaching Marisol on mudras while Mia mimicked them perfectly in sync.
This was more than a dance.
It was a mont.
And it was only the beginning.
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