Chapter Twelve

Jenny and the others watched as Alba’s stance shifted and she seemed to become someone else. As a confident, shining, beautiful butterfly left the frail-looking, helpless cocoon. The transformation took place in only a few seconds, yet held them enthralled even before the girl could do her first dance step.

When she did begin to dance, they were already wrapped around her little fingers, cats hypnotized by burning flames. Everything she did would be considerer explendid. It wasn’t the first time she’d done it and the feeling brought an extra wave of self-assurance, which rushed through her body and colored the performance.

Her fingers languidly twirled, fanned in and out as she walked in sync to Marina’s perfectly practiced claps, arms held above her head. The burning fire threw eerie light in her face, enhanced the expression of her true feelings.  Soon her bare feet struck the rugged floor, made dizzying combinations, the hollow sound echoing around the room, into their minds, floating inside their hearts. Never had they seen anything like it.

Alba’s right foot went forward and marked the beat just as the Italian, still clapping, began a subdued procession of trembling, silvery "Ay"s. Her friends’ eyes flickered to her briefly, before intensely focusing back on the dancer. Even though singers usually had the spotlight and a central position in Flamenco, Marina doubted anyway would pay any attention to her, even if she sang the most enchanting melodies. The girl was simply glittering, enclosed in a cloth of royalty.

The teen nodded once, grinned sightly to acknowledge the unexpected chanting. She put her head on illustrating what was sung. Soleares (or Soleás, both are used) are often forlorn rhytmns, and she sensed incredible sadness in Mrs. Ferrer’s quivering voice. It overwhelmed her, found its’ twin in the girl’s soul. She let it flow into her limbs, take over her mind with a grey haze, dictate how she should express it.

The women watched as Ms. Hernandez spun around herself, arms held in a tight, princely posture, before beginning another footwork sequence that somehow expressed dark feelings. They felt a growing, pressuring woe close around their hearts like a vise. It was agonizing, alluring, not entirely ugly. Tears welled in their eyes when they read pain in both singer and dancer, realized how much the two had already gone through in their lives.