Show and Tell

Back at school, Mr. Alvarez announced that the class would be doing a "Show What You Love" week, where every student got five whole minutes in front of everyone to share something they cared about. Some kids brought in rock collections. One boy brought his entire collection of bottle caps, arranged by country, and talked for the full five minutes without once looking up from them.

Sam knew immediately what she wanted to do. She also immediately felt a little sick about it.

"What if everyone thinks it's weird?" she asked her mum that night, picking at her dinner instead of eating it.

"Do you think it's weird?"

"No. I think it might be the best thing I've ever found."

"Then I think you already know your answer."

Sam practiced every single night that week, in the living room, with the lamp moved safely out of the way this time. She picked one song — one Amrit had taught the whole class to warm up to, simple enough that she thought she could actually teach it in five minutes without anyone getting too lost. She practiced her little introduction out loud in the bathroom mirror, twice, and both times it sounded stiff and rehearsed, so by the third time she just decided to say whatever came out naturally and hope for the best.

On the day of Show and Tell, her hands were shaking as she stood up at the front of the classroom, phone tucked into her back pocket in case the music cut out and she needed backup. Twenty-three faces looked back at her, some curious, a couple already smirking in the particular way kids smirk right before they decide whether something is cool or not. She could hear Rachel, somewhere in the second row, whisper-shouting "you've GOT this" loudly enough that at least the front three rows definitely heard it too.

"This is bhangra," she told them, her voice wobbling only a little. "Well — actually, it's just one shop of it. There are four different shops, but that's a whole other explanation for another day. This shop is about getting your body moving and your heart pumping. Want to try it with me?"

For one long, terrible second, nobody moved. Somebody near the back coughed. The clock on the wall ticked so loudly Sam could actually hear it over her own heartbeat.

Then Rachel stood up first, because of course Rachel stood up first, and half the class followed almost immediately after her, chairs scraping backward across the floor. The other half needed a minute, watching Sam's shoulders pop up and down exactly the way the dancer's had on that very first video, all those months ago, until curiosity finally won out over shyness and they scrambled up too, giggling at their own attempts before they'd even really begun.

By the end, almost the whole class was trying it — badly, joyfully, laughing at their own wobbly shoulders the exact same way Sam had laughed at herself back on her very first Saturday in Coventry. Even Mr. Alvarez, standing by his desk with his arms crossed, was doing a small, restrained version of the shoulder pop that he clearly hoped nobody would notice, and everybody noticed, and everybody cheered.