The Secret Talent (12 page)

“Awesome!” Heather held up her hand so I could high-five it. “I mean, not the part about everyone knowing, but the part about you finally standing up to Ryan!”

I high-fived her back. “You should probably bask in the glory of my presence while I'm still popular.”

“Awww.” Brooke squeezed my arm. “I'll still be your friend, even when you become a ridiculous internet meme.”

During homeroom I sat next to Gabby, and we did foot movements under our desk to practice our dances. Since we were trying to look completely innocent, it wasn't long before we were cracking ourselves up. At lunch, my sister joined me in the newsroom, despite Mary Patrick's protests, so we could practice some more.

“This is a newsroom, not a dance hall!” she cried as papers blew off her desk when we moved past.

“There's nowhere else to practice,” I said.

“How about the gym or . . .” She frowned. “Can I help you?” she asked someone behind me.

I turned and saw a girl timidly waiting by the doorframe.

“Someone gave me a note to give to you,” she told Mary Patrick, still standing by the door and holding out the paper.

“Do I look like my arms will stretch that far?” asked Mary Patrick. “Bring it to me!”

The girl jumped but hurried forward, waiting just long enough for Mary Patrick's fingers to touch the paper before releasing it and hurrying away.

“‘Tim Antonides is the dorky teen from the dancing video,'” Mary Patrick read aloud. Then she crumpled the note and threw it into the garbage. “Seriously, the gym or the library,” she told me. “Please, dance anywhere but here.”

Gabby ignored her and reached into the trash
can. “Someone just spilled your secret!” she said, gawking at me.

“Yeah, Ryan,” I said. “I finally told him no more.”

My younger sister (by three minutes) hugged me. “I'm so proud of you!”

“And you can be rest assured, I am
not
printing that gossip in the paper.” Mary Patrick huffed.

“Actually,” I said, “I think you should put it in. But could you wait and add it at the last minute? I don't want anyone to leak the info before Monday.”

Mary Patrick gave me a dubious look. “You're really okay with people knowing? I thought it was a big secret.”

I shook my head. “It shouldn't have been. Please, print the piece.” I glanced at Gabby. “And mention that my sister and I performed at the Museum of Science and Industry.”

Mary Patrick picked up her notebook. “Fine. I'll put something together. In the library. So you two can dance.” She held up a finger. “But this doesn't count as the advice column's extra holiday piece.”

“Actually, we came up with a different idea for that,” I said. “And it'll be on your desk by Friday.”

Mary Patrick smiled. “It better be.”

“You're pretty confident you're going to make it into the show, aren't you?” Gabby asked as Mary Patrick walked away.

“Actually, I'm still pretty terrified,” I confessed. “But if I know it's going to be in print, it just means I'll practice even harder.” I positioned myself next to her. “Ready to go again?”

For the next few days my life itself was a whirlwind dance. But when Friday afternoon
came and the lyres started playing and my dance mates started the
sirtaki
, I was right there with them, step for step.

When practice was over, Mr. Humphries, the choreographer, looked me up and down and said, “Your blouse is missing a button. Have it fixed before the show tomorrow.”

And it was all I could do not to throw in a twirl.

CHAPTER

“L
et's go, let's go, let's go!” Mom's voice carried upstairs as she pounded a fist against the staircase wall. “We have to beat traffic, park, and hit the gift shop!”

“That last one isn't as high a priority!” Dad's voice followed hers.

I charged downstairs in my street clothes with my gym bag over one shoulder, but Mom pointed behind me.

“Nope. You need to be in costume when we get there,” she said. “Unless you want to duck behind a Christmas tree and pull a Clark
Kent–into-Superman move.”

“Please don't compare Tim to Superman,” Gabby said from the top of the stairs.

“Hey, I've got the tights,” I said, running past her into the bathroom to change.

She banged on the door. “I wasn't done in there!”

“I'll be right out!” I promised.

I slipped into my folk costume and dropped my street clothes in the bag just as Gabby started banging on the door again. “I need the hair spray.”

The second I unlocked the door she pushed her way in and reached for an aerosol can and spritzed, creating a sticky, wet cloud of perfume.

“Couldn't you have waited until I got out?” I fanned the air and backed away, coughing.

“Tim, are you dressed?” Mom's voice called again.

“On my way!” I took the steps two at a time and slid down the banister at the end.

She looked me over and nodded approvingly. “Grab your jacket and get into the car. I'll wrestle the hair spray away from your sister.”

“Be careful!” I called. “It's extra-strength hold!”

Dad was already waiting behind the steering wheel, checking his phone for traffic updates. “We're cutting it close,” he informed me as I buckled myself into the back. “Where are Mom and Gabby?”

“We're here!” called Mom.

“Where's Uncle Theo?” asked Gabby.

“He's going to meet us at the museum,” said Dad. “Something about picking up his girlfriend.”

I widened my eyes. “They've gone from dating to being a couple?”

“Awww! Good for them,” said Gabby.

“It's a Christmas miracle,” I agreed.

“Be nice,” Mom said, reaching behind her seat to squeeze my knee.

Dad put the car in gear, and soon, we were in Chicago traffic.

“There's no way I'm going to find close parking,” he said. “I'll drop you off up front and meet you inside.”

“Fine by me,” I said. Even though I was more comfortable being a Greek folk dancer, I still wasn't comfortable enough to walk several city blocks in full costume.

Gabby, Mom, and I hurried into the museum and found Uncle Theo waiting by the ticket booth.

“Sorry!” Mom said before he could speak. “We were running a little behind.”

“It's fine.” Uncle Theo hugged Gabby and me and then steered us up the escalator to the main hall.

As soon as the rotunda was in sight, the spirit of Christmas was overwhelming. Beautiful trees with hundreds of ornaments and twinkling
lights lined the entrance to the escalators and the edges of the rotunda. The trees had all been decorated by different community groups, so each was something special. At the center of the floor space was a massive forty-five-foot tree decorated with a superhero theme.

“Awesome,” I said in a soft voice.

“Too cool,” agreed Gabby.

Kids were darting around one side of a big tree, catching fake snowflakes, but there was no time for us to play if we wanted to make it to our performance. Uncle Theo led the way to a room labeled “Holiday Stage,” which was already crowded.

“Are all these people here to see us?” Gabby asked, wide-eyed.

“Us and the other Greek performance troupes,” said Uncle Theo. “It's an entire showcase. Ah. Here are our people!”

He pointed to the side of the stage, where Mr.
Humphries was wildly waving his arm overhead.

“It's about time,” he said when we ran over. “We were going to have to open with the second act. Are you ready to go?”

Instantly, my heart hammered faster in my chest, but I nodded and shrugged off my jacket.

Mr. Humphries signaled the emcee onstage, who nodded and approached the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, for our first performance showcasing Christmas in Greece, I present to you the Berryville Greek Society!” He clapped his hands and stepped away while the audience joined in on the applause.

Gabby gave me a nervous smile, and I squeezed her hand.

“Let's do this!” I whispered as we fell into line.

Our dance troupe took to the stage and got into position, facing the audience.

Suddenly, there was a chant of “Go, Tim, go!
Go, Gabby, go!” from the right side of the room.

My sister and I looked out at my friends, sitting in the crowd and waving. We grinned and nodded as the rest of the audience politely laughed.

Then the music began. We were transported halfway around the world. Arms wrapped across shoulders as we shuffled and stepped, and the audience clapped along in time to the music. When it grew faster, they increased their clapping and threw in some hoots. (I'm pretty sure that was Brooke.) Between the bright stage lights and all the dancing, it wasn't long before the entire troupe was sweating, but it was the best, most fun workout I'd ever had.

When our last number ended, the audience stood and applauded and hooted some more. The emcee ushered us offstage so the next troupe could go on, and my friends hurried to meet us.

“That was so cool!” V said, giving me a hug.
She stepped away, wiping her arms. “And a little sweaty.”

“Sorry,” I said with a laugh, and turned to Gil, who had his hand raised for a high-five.

“So jealous, man,” he told me. “Makes me want to get my family onstage for some Polynesian dancing!”

“You were amazing,” agreed Heather.

“Thanks!” I told her, leaning in for a hug.

When I turned to Brooke, she shrugged. “I must say, after all the fun I've made of you, it was actually a pretty awesome performance.”

“Anybody who wants to tease you about
that
has to go through me,” agreed Abel.

“Thanks, dude.” I gave them each a brief hug, and the time on my watch caught my eye. “Shoot! It's already four o'clock!”

Brooke squinted at me. “Are your shoes about to turn into pumpkins or something?”

“No, Berkeley Dennis's party starts at five o'clock. I've got to get out of here!” I waved to my friends. “Sorry, guys! Thanks so much for coming!” I tugged on Uncle Theo's sleeve, and he turned around. “Sorry to run, but I've got something else to get to.”

Uncle Theo nodded and then hugged me. “You were amazing, Timotheos. Thank you for giving it your all.” He stepped back. “Before you leave, I want you to meet my girlfriend. Sue?”

A woman stepped away from where she'd been talking to my parents.

A woman I recognized.

Ryan's aunt.

She smiled when she saw me. “Hello, Tim!”

Uncle Theo glanced from her to me in confusion. “You know each other?”

“Her nephew goes to school with me,” I said. I had to fight back a laugh.

Ryan, the kid who made fun of my dancing, might someday be part of an entire family of dancers.

“Well, it's nice to meet you as Uncle Theo's girlfriend,” I told Sue, offering my hand.

“Likewise, for you being his nephew,” she said with a chuckle.

“Sorry to bail,” I said, “but . . .”

Uncle Theo shooed me away. “Go, go, go!”

I moved past them and grabbed Dad's arm. “It's Adrenaline time!”

Dad checked his watch. “Yikes! You're right.” He turned to Mom. “Ready?”

“But I haven't been to the gift shop!” she said.

“I can give her and Gabby a ride if you need me to,” said Uncle Theo.

“Best big brother ever,” Mom said, kissing his cheek.

“Okay, okay.” He brushed it off, blushing.

Dad kissed Mom and squeezed Gabby before putting an arm around me. “Let's go!”

The way Dad dodged and ducked through the crowd with me in tow, you'd have thought he was Adrenaline himself. We were out of the museum in record time and sprinting to the car.

Out of the city, however . . . That was a different story.

“How can there be more traffic going out than there is coming in?” he mumbled as we inched along.

I glanced in the backseat and moaned. “That's not the worst part. I forgot my street clothes!”

“What?” Dad looked over and almost rear-ended a minivan.

“Look out!” I said.

He slammed on the brakes. “How did you forget your clothes?”

“I must have left them in the bathroom when
Gabby was doing her hair!” I clapped my hand to my forehead. “I can't go to Adrenaline's party like this!”

“Well, at least you have your jacket,” he mused with a hopeful smile. Then he looked me over and frowned. “Oh, no, you don't. Your mother is going to
kill
me.”

I twisted around to check the backseat for any stray T-shirts or sweatpants . . . anything I might have left behind over the years in the car. All I found was some old french fries and pocket change.

“I need you to turn around and face front, buddy.” Dad patted my leg.

I did as he said. “And I need you to trade clothes with me.”

“Ha!” Dad shook his head. “I can't fit into your clothes, and I'm definitely not driving around town in my underwear. We'll just have to swing by the house first.”

“There's no time!” I pointed to the digital display on the dash. “Who knows how long Adrenaline's going to be there?”

Dad sighed. “Then I'm sorry, buddy. You'll either have to miss meeting him or go dressed like that.”

I glanced down at my clothes. Everybody was going to find out my secret on Monday when the paper came out, anyway. It was time for me to own who I was.

I took a deep breath and nodded. “To the party!”

Dad smiled and skirted around a car. “To the party!”

When we arrived at Berkeley's house, Dad and I both stared in awe for a moment. Berkeley lived in a mansion that looked like it belonged on a show for celebrity homes.

“You said this kid goes to school with you?” Dad asked. “Does he show up in a helicopter?”

I gazed up at the flags on the roof. “He probably has his butler carry him all the way.” I pushed open the car door and glanced at Dad. “Could you wait here, in case I feel supremely humiliated and need to run out?”

Dad nodded. “Are you sure you don't want me to go in with you?”

I shook my head. “Thanks, but I've got to do this on my own.”

I wasn't sure if it was my imagination, but the walk up to Berkeley's front door seemed to take forever. When I looked over my shoulder at Dad, the car seemed miles away. I could hear the voices of several people, along with one adult voice occasionally chuckling and joining in, coming from inside the manor. My finger shook when I reached for the doorbell, and I had to steady it with my other hand.

The chimes played
Für Elise
, and after what seemed like a minute later, the door clicked open.

Berkeley's eyebrows went up when he saw my outfit, and he smiled. “Wow, I feel underdressed. Come on in.”

That was all.

He didn't laugh. Didn't point and call out to the others to come make fun of me.

I stood there, staring stupidly, waiting for a stronger reaction. “I'm a Greek—”

“Folk dancer.” He finished for me, nodding. “I thought that was you in the video that was going around. You've got some skills!”

I stood there with my mouth open. “You knew? And you still wanted me to come over?”

Finally, Berkeley laughed. “Well, yeah, why wouldn't I? You're a dancer, not a serial killer.” He opened the door wider so I could go in. “So did you have practice this morning or something?”

“Uh . . .” I waved down the walkway at Dad, who returned the wave and drove away. “My sister and uncle and I were part of a Christmas
Around the World show at the Museum of Science and Industry,” I explained.

“Cool!” he said. “I love that place. My parents go to a big fund-raiser there every year. I'll bet it's fun to be part of the experience.”

“It totally was,” I agreed, feeling myself relax a little.

Berkeley led the way into a game room, where a dozen or so boys were sitting around eating pizza with . . . Adrenaline Dennis.

I froze in my tracks. I was standing in the presence of
the
Adrenaline Dennis, and he was picking mushrooms off his pizza and putting them aside just like I did. Forget Apollo; I should've been named Adrenaline!

“This is my friend Tim from school,” I heard Berkeley say. “He just got done with a Greek folk dance at the Museum of Science and Industry.”

I gestured to my outfit. “But sometimes I like to wear this for just lounging around the house.”

Several of the other guys laughed. I noticed Ryan lingering in the back. He might have been looking pretty sharp in his new gear and hairstyle, but the frown on his face soured it all.

All the kids were staring at my outfit, but I didn't care. Adrenaline Dennis was walking right toward me with his hand extended.

“Nice to meet you, Tim. I've studied a few different types of dance, but not Greek. Maybe you can show me some steps later.”

Adrenaline Dennis wanted me to dance for him!

“Wait, wait,” I said, shaking my head. “You dance? I thought you were into motocross.”

He grinned. “A guy can have more than one interest, right? I'm sure you don't just dance.”

I matched his grin. “True.”

“Alistair . . . I mean
Adrenaline
. . . is really good at ballet,” said Berkeley. “He trained in Paris.”