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A Dancer's Guide to Knowing What Dance to Do to a Song » Dance With Brandee

A Dancer’s Guide to Knowing What Dance to Do

What Dance Do I Do to This Song?

Here’s how to your dance music know-how

Dancers, have you ever found yourself standing on the sidelines for the first half of each song trying to figure out what dance is supposed to be done to the music? Like my students you might be wondering: How do I know what dance to do to a song?

Many events help you out by announcing each song’s dance or posting a set list for your reference. Even then, some songs work equally well for more than one dance, so being able to match dances to songs is a skill to develop. And of course, you’ll need that skill at weddings and private parties that don’t have these dance aids.

Until there’s an app for it, I want to help you develop your dance music know-how. Of course, there are lots of variables in dancing and music, exceptions to the rules, etc. But I’m going to keep this simple, so consider this a rough guide to figuring out what to dance to a song.

No Hard and Fast Rules

First of all, unless you’re at a dance competition, know that there are no hard and fast rules for which dance must be performed to a particular song. You get to choose the dance you want to do. That said, when you fit a dance well to a song, it’s easier to keep rhythm, to express the character of the dance, and overall, it tends to just feel better.

And some dances’ music is unique enough that it will hit you clearly. For example, Tangos have a distinctive staccato rhythm and dramatic. Once you’ve heard a few Tangos, without needing to think, you’ll just know it’s a Tango.

For the rest, it’s really just a process of elimination. As you become more experienced, hearing the dance in most songs will become more automatic.

5 Easy Steps to Determine What Dance to Do

1. Get a Feel for the Song’s Speed

Ask: What’s the speed of this song?

Start by determining the song’s tempo (i.e., it’s speed.) This simply means getting a feel for whether the song is slow or fast or somewhere in between.

Sometimes the instrumentation or vocals in a song can fake you out. For example, a song may sound very upbeat but actually have a rather slow beat. Until you get good at gauging a song’s tempo, just tap your toes or fingers to the beat of the song, becoming a human metronome for its true speed.

Once you know if the song is slow or fast (or somewhere in between), you can then rule out some dances. For example, if the song is fast, then all the slower dances are out, such as Rumba, Nightclub Two Step and Slow Waltz. Or if the song is really slow, you can cross off Cha Cha, Salsa, East Coast Swing and Viennese Waltz.

Note: As a beginner, you’ll likely only be comfortable dancing in a narrow tempo range for each dance. So if you identify a song as Cha Cha but find yourself unable to keep up with the music, it doesn’t necessarily mean you made a mistake identify it as a Cha Cha—you just may not be experienced enough to dance to the full tempo range for Cha Cha.

If you’re curious, check out this list of tempo ranges for each dance (this is one person’s idea of good tempos, not an official list). In case you’re interested, here are the official tempos used at ballroom dance competitions.

2. Rule Out If It’s a Waltz

Waltzes have 3 beats in a measure (instead of 4)

As you’re tapping out the speed of a song, count the beats. If it’s easy to count 1-2-3-4 it’s not a Waltz. However, if counting in four’s feels off, try counting in three’s: 1-2-3, 1-2-3.

Most songs are in 4/4-time, meaning there are four beats in each measure. However, Waltzes are in 3/4-time, with only three beats in each measure. (There are other time signatures, but 4/4 and 3/4 are main ones you’ll encounter.)

If 1-2-3 matches the music, you’ll know it’s a Waltz. And having already gauged the song’s speed, you can immediately determine whether it’s a Slow Waltz (slower) or Viennese Waltz (about twice as fast as Slow Waltz).

3. Listen to Its Rhythm/Feel

What’s the rhythm or feel of the song?

If the song isn’t a Waltz, your next step is to pay attention to the song’s rhythm or feel. Is it happy, romantic, dramatic, bluesy, melancholic, or funky? Does it have a Latin/Afro-Cuban beat? Does it make you want to bounce, glide, twirl or march? Listening to the songs’ rhythm and character will help you sort it into one of a few broad categories: Ballroom, Latin, Swing, or other (Hustle, Country Western, Nightclub Two Step, etc.).

For example, say the song has a Latin rhythm. The most common Latin dances in ballroom/social dancing are Rumba, Cha Cha, Samba and Salsa. Rumba is the only one of these with a slower, romantic feel. So if the song is like that, you’re ready to Rumba!

And if the song’s rhythm is upbeat, you can eliminate Rumba and then parse out which of the remaining three dances it might be. Samba has a very distinctive “boom-a-boom” percussive beat (think Brazilian Carnaval music). If you’re hearing that, it’s probably a Samba. If you’re not, congratulations, you’ve narrowed it down to a Cha Cha or Salsa.

4. When in Doubt, Step It Out

Dance in place to see what matches the music

Continuing with the same example, say you’ve figured out the song is either a Cha Cha or a Salsa. Cha Chas usually have a “cha-cha-cha” in their beat, although you may not be able to hear this until you have more experience.

At this point, it’s time to experiment with the basic steps in each dance. Do this on your own in place, so small and casual people might not even notice. Try a few Cha Cha basics and see how well your feet match the music. Then try the Salsa basic. Usually one will feel like the right fit and voila, you’ve successfully determined what dance to do to this song!

See what dance others are doing

  5. Or “Cheat” and Steal a Peek

If you’re still stumped after you’ve “stepped it out,” have a look and see what others are dancing. As a beginner, it’s often best to look at intermediate-level dancers. Fellow novices are likely as lost as you are, and advanced dancers may be dancing fancy figures with so much styling and technique you won’t even recognize what they’re dancing as the same dance you know! Intermediate dancers, however, will know which dance to do to a song yet will still be dancing figures you can recognize.

Have Fun: Make into a Game!

I encourage you to make a game out of matching dances to songs when you’re not out dancing. Play the “What Could I Dance to This Song” game when you’re listening to music at home, in the car or when you hear a tune playing at a store or on the street.

Make a game out of matching dances to music

Of course, all music isn’t made for partner dancing (e.g., classical, electronica, hip hop and even many pop tunes). So to make it easier on yourself you may want to listen to songs pre-selected for a dancing, such as those off a ballroom dance practice CD or from a recommended playlist like this.

Remember, ultimately which dance to do is your choice, so have fun and feel free to be creative. That said, be respectful of other dancers on the floor. For example, make sure you use proper floor etiquette, especially if you decide to do a dance that’s different from what the majority on the floor is doing. If doing a traveling dance, stay on the outside track, moving in the line of dance; if doing a spot (non-traveling) dance, dance in the center of the floor.

Over time the process of matching songs to dances will become faster and simpler. You may even find yourself mentoring new dancers on the subject!

I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You by Black Kids

License This Song 

lyrics

Songfacts®:

The Black Kids hail from Jacksonville, Florida and consist of Reggie Youngblood, (guitar, vocals), Ali Youngblood (keyboards, vocals), Dawn Watley (keyboards, vocals), Owen Holmes (bass) and Kevin Snow (drums). This was their debut single and it was originally found on their 2007 self-released EP Wizard Of Ahhhs.
In this song Reggie Youngblood is mocking a girl's boyfriend with "two left feet," all the while worrying that he's nothing without his superior moves. He explained to the Guardian newspaper: "I like that about human nature. That you can think the world of yourself one moment and then the next you're a cowardly, awkward, sniveling piece of s--t. It's all there lurking and it's so random what's going to come to the forefront."
Reggie Youngblood explained to Vice magazine the background to this track: "Well, Jacksonville is a sort of anomaly, in that despite being a somewhat culturally bereft city, we have amazing dance parties at which we dance like motherfu--ers. So, in this environment, I've repeatedly found myself in situations where girls love to dance with me ('cause I can move, baby) but usually go home with someone else, who can't dance for s--t. It's a problem."
In the same Vice magazine interview, Youngblood explained the band's name: "It is REALLY hard to come up with a name that hasn't been taken. You think of something you like, Google it, and sure enough, someone's beat you to it. So, we thought, we really must have something that most people won't touch. And it should sound cool. I find it hilarious when someone black asks Owen or Kevin (who are both white) what band they play in, because they're not quite comfortable saying it aloud. If I'm with them, I just keep very quiet and relish the awkwardness."

More songs from Black Kids
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Lyrics to I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You

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White as Snow

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Read online "I want to dance with you", Katya Stepantseva - LitRes

Dedicated to the one who

promised to read all my books.

Chapter 1

Woke up again from screaming in my sleep. I peeled off the pillow and pushed it away from me, leaning my cheek against the cool sheet. I had the same dream: I'm calling an ambulance.

Mom didn't go to work that day. My father grumbled, getting ready: “Your head always hurts! These migraines are a non-existent disease.” The door slammed. Mom got out of bed to kiss me habitually before school, her face was distorted, she began to breathe so quickly and convulsively that I was frightened. She rushed to her and managed to pick up the limp body. We collapsed to the floor. I barely managed to keep her from hitting her head. She screamed in a terrible strange voice: “Mom! Mommy, what's the matter with you?" but she didn't answer. I sat, carefully holding her under her head and pressing my cheek against her forehead. After a few minutes, she tried to say something, but all she could do was hum. Her pale, contorted face resembled a mask from a school theater studio. I tried to drag her onto the bed and make her comfortable, I heard the sounds of coming vomiting. I didn't know what to do. Finally, she sat her mother on the bed so that her head rested on the pillow and hung slightly to one side, crawled to the bag that was lying by the door. Mom had fainted before, but there was always a grandmother or dad around, and they coped with it. They called an ambulance! I couldn't find a mobile phone in my bag, and I just dumped all its contents on the floor, and when it was found, I couldn't figure out which number to dial.

- Ambulance, listening.

“Hello…” I was suffocating, my thoughts were tangled in my head, the words came out somehow intermittently with a breath, “Mom feels bad.

My throat was dry and I suddenly began to hiccup.

- Age?

– Hey… hic… bad… ho, do you hear?

- What is your age? the pipe asked sternly.

– Thirteen… hic…

– How old is Mom? - the pipe was indignant.

– Thirty… hic, oh, seven – I couldn’t help hiccuping. I forbade myself to be afraid, hoping that everything would work out. The hiccups didn't go away, then, to suppress it, I puffed out my cheeks and held my breath, and suddenly it became so funny. I tried my best to chuckle quietly, but it didn't work. Tears streamed down my face, I hiccupped again and dropped my phone on the floor. Horns. The call has been terminated. I dialed the number.

– Auntie, ahahh-hic, – I hoarsely, barely restraining myself, shouted into the phone, – ambulance hic… oh, with… hic… oh… send, ahahah…. - And it seems like you need to calm down, but I couldn’t.

– Are the children playing around? - they said in the receiver and dropped the call.

I couldn't believe my ears. The ambulance refused to take the call. She dialed the number again, barely understanding the numbers through her tears. I almost didn't hear the words of the standard greeting and couldn't say anything in return because the laughter gained its height, not giving me a chance to stop.

- Children, do not take the line! Someone might need help right now! Have a conscience! - a female voice shouted hysterically in my ear, and I grabbed objects with my hands and dropped them on the floor, barely standing, and laughed, now holding my stomach, now slapping my knees. I wanted to straighten up and wipe my eyes from tears, sighed, straightening up sharply, and with all my strength hit the top of my head on the sharp corner of the hanging bookshelf. Books fell down, dragging notebooks, photographs and some small pieces of paper with them like a waterfall. I sat on the floor, holding my head in my hand, crying, confused, smearing snot on my face, not understanding what had happened to me.

A hot red trickle ran down my arms. In my head flashed: “What am I doing? Why am I sitting here? I need to see my mom!" I slowly got up, barely holding on, went up to her, took her hand, I couldn’t hear the pulse, tried to find it on my neck, and only there I barely felt weak blows. "Where's that filthy phone?!"

Somehow, having found a mobile phone among the scattered things, I called the ambulance again, gave the address in a slurred tongue and lost consciousness.

Mom died on the way to the hospital, and I had to live with the thought that I killed her with an idiotic laugh.

A year has passed since then, and I haven't laughed once.

Chapter 2

She appeared the way only sorceresses appear. Outside, the wind was raging and it was raining. In such weather, people sit at home under a blanket and watch endless TV shows, stroking a fat fluffy cat.

I was washing the dishes. “I hate it! Why the hell is there so much of it? Why do I even have to wash it? I want to lie down and listen to music endlessly.”

The ringing of the door broke the silence so suddenly that the plate slipped out of his hands and flopped back into the sink filled with water. I looked out of the kitchen in surprise, wondering who it could be? The door opened and slammed loudly with a sharp gust of wind, a small fragile woman appeared in the corridor. She had delicate aristocratic features and kind blue eyes, her blond hair neatly styled in a bun, hair to hair. Despite the bad weather, she was neatly dressed, and her boots sparkled as if they had just been polished. On a dark blue coat, droplets glittered like beads. In her hands she was clutching a long black cane umbrella and a fairly roomy leather bag. "Damn, I forgot to lock the door again."

It was Maria Andreevna. For high school students who dreamed of entering a pedagogical institute, she taught pedagogy and psychology once a week, and the rest of the time she worked as a school psychologist. I went to her for six months, but our relationship did not go well. Maria Andreevna kept trying to play with me, as with a little one, in stupid games, draw fears (is it possible to draw them at all?), She offered tests with stupid questions and even more stupid answers. All in all, sheer pain. But one day everything changed. I arrived a little earlier than usual. The door was ajar, in the office someone was shouting loudly and angrily. I listened, peering through the crack.

- You are absolutely incompetent in evaluating children in class! Why do you have only fives in your magazine? an unpleasant voice yelled.

“Because the children are preparing well, stretching their arms…” Maria Andreevna answered quietly.

- That is, you give them fives for the fact that they pull their hands well? Grades are given for knowledge, my dear, if you forgot, then I remind you of this! - The huge figure of the head teacher hung over the fragile woman, like a ninth wave over a fragile boat.

“But the guys really know the material,” Maria Andreevna justified herself.

– Really? All as one, both C students and L students in your lessons have a phenomenal memory, as I see it. Or are you just following them? This is unprofessional! Then you don't belong in school! I'll be attending high school classes all month and testing your grading system!

“What a nasty aunt!” – I was indignant. The accusatory tirade was already said almost at the very door, and I hurriedly jumped aside, letting the head teacher Inessa Vladimirovna pass, who flew out into the corridor like a bomb. I looked into the office, Maria Andreevna was sitting hunched over on the sofa. When I entered, she hastily turned to the window. I wanted to hug her, but I didn't dare. Maybe she wanted to say something, but she couldn't help herself. I know how difficult it is to suppress the inexorably rising lump, as soon as you start talking. So we sat in silence for a few minutes. These were awkward moments, because I did not know how to console at all. Before leaving, she put a Kinder Surprise figurine wrapped in paper on her table. The figurine depicted an unknown creature, comically spreading its arms and paws to the sides.

The next day, when Maria Andreevna saw me in the corridor, she called me and said: “Thank you! I'm sorry that I didn't get to talk yesterday, I'm completely unglued. And this, by the way, is for you!” She handed me a small silver anchor pendant. Since then, our meetings have become warmer, or something. But I never expected that a young psychologist would appear at my house in August.

- Hello, Katya! she sang in her silvery voice.

“Hello, Maria Andreevna,” I drawled in surprise.

- I won't be long. I called your grandmother, agreed to meet today.

- Why?

Maria Andreevna, smiling slyly, opened her bag and took out a box of chocolates, a large package of my favorite snake marmalade, three sugar buns and a small jar of ground coffee. I wouldn't be surprised if she has both a blanket and a fat cat in there, just in case. Just to get in.

- Put the kettle on, Katya! I'll tell you everything soon.

I stopped looking at the bag and went to pour water into the kettle.

A door slammed in the hallway. Who else did they bring? Grandmother, too, shone all over with raindrops, but her face shone, as if the rain had washed away the worries of the last months from her. I looked at her and didn't recognize her. It was definitely my grandmother, but she looked younger and very cheerful, dyed her hair and eyebrows, her black eyes became even more expressive from this.

- Well, that's all, - said Maria Andreevna. - So, today I came to inform you that tomorrow a new shift of the school assets camp begins and I invite Katerina to go there. There is only one ticket!

At such moments, cartoon characters' jaws fall off, and their eyes become the size of a saucer. I was also surprised, not so violently, but still.

“She agrees,” Grandmother said joyfully, but then her gaze darted in my direction and immediately faded.

- What? Did you decide for me again? - I was indignant, pouring boiling water into cups. And she thought: “What could be worse than being in the camp of leaders from all the schools in the city?”

– Cabins in the camp are heated and each has a shower. Take more warm clothes with you,” the psychologist continued calmly. - Lyudmila Vasilievna, I know about your financial situation, so I got a ticket for free. Don't worry, everything will be fine! You were absolutely right when you said that Katya needed a change of scenery.

Grandma listened as she thoughtfully stirred the sugar in her tea. Maria Andreevna carefully blew on the coffee genie rising from the cup. I got up in annoyance, grabbed the gummy snakes so that no one else would get them, and defiantly walked out of the kitchen into my room. Grandma is good! They have long agreed about the camp. “Katya needs a change of scenery,” I mimicked the guest. - Necessary! To whom? How can they even know what I need?

Fragments of phrases could be heard from the kitchen: “You have to live for the sake of the child… If you don’t pull yourself together, then she won’t be able… Everything will work out…”

They wanted to buy me marmalade. I threw away the fragrant strips in disgust and crept up to the sideboard. From the farthest corner of the bottom drawer she took out the cherished box with letters and a dark blond curl in a white envelope. She carefully took out this curl and stroked it: “Everyone forgot you, mom. They want me to forget too. ” Tears hung on my eyelashes, and I terribly wanted to blink them away. Maria Andreevna made a noise in the corridor, getting ready, and I, brushing away uninvited tears, hastily hid my treasures back in the box.

She left, perhaps in a hurry to make another orphan happy. Grandmother silently packed my suitcase.

- How long have you known about the camp? I asked, squinting suspiciously.

- We discussed it back in the spring. I thought she'd talk to you early.

- I won't go! I said bluntly.

- Why? Go! Anything is better than being alone.

- Don't talk to me like I'm small.

– What are you like? Big one, right? Go to the camp, rest. You will get tired of this adult life like this, - the grandmother expressively put her hand to her throat.

– Oh, how are you with me, right? I said in a trembling voice.

- How? Maria Andreevna is sure that this camp will only benefit you! You will meet new good people, you will make friends. Normal.

– Do I only have crazy friends? Maybe I'm crazy, too? - Hysterical notes appeared in my voice, despite the fact that I really wanted to hide them.

– What does this have to do with it? You go, I've decided everything.

– Why do you always decide for me? You are not my mother, why are you climbing into my life? I screamed. Grandmother froze in place at such words.

“Katerina, stop the concert,” she said wearily. - Maria Andreevna is going to be a senior counselor, she will look after you. You used to really like to go somewhere. Remember! Start living already, finally, as before!

- Like before? May this never happen! I screamed and slammed the door.

I fell on the bed, hit the pillow with my fists on both sides and burst into tears. “You will regret sending me there!”

I felt as if a band-aid had been ripped off my heart.

Chapter 3

Mom assured me that she had packed only the essentials, but the suitcase stubbornly wouldn't close. Roma pressed on the lid, and the mother stubbornly pulled the "dog" of the lightning, barely audible muttering curses. A dull irritation grew in his soul. I'd like to stuff half of these things back in the closet, but my mother won't let me.

– Can I do it myself?

- Wait, it's almost closed! Have a rest. How do you feel? Go sit down, we’ll do it ourselves somehow,” she puffed, blushing from the effort.

“Norm,” Roma answered, probably the twentieth time in a day. But obediently rounded the coffee table with the long-suffering suitcase and trudged to the sofa.

– Shall we put this sweater away? It’s only to scare the girls,” dad remarked sarcastically, pointing with his finger at a piece of gray wool stuck between the teeth of the lightning.

- Normal sweater. It is associated with love, and therefore beautiful,” said my mother, tamping it deeper into the bowels of the suitcase. “Roma, don’t listen to your father, he has only one wind in his head,” she looked reproachfully at dad. - Have you forgotten how you recently blew? And who treated you then? In August, the evenings are already cool, so a sweater will definitely come in handy.

– And the kid has grown up already, it’s time for him to wear something more fashionable. He’s not a grandfather to bathe in wool, - the father did not let up.

- So you don't like my sweater? Also say “the last century,” my mother glared angrily at my father, and then with a vengeance leaned on the suitcase, under such a furious pressure it gave up and finally closed.

He stood near the door and showed with all his plump appearance that he was ready for three weeks of free life. Mom wearily fell on the sofa next to Roma, hitting the guitar, which made her moan plaintively.

- I still don't like the camp idea! Romka is going to do something in her repertoire again, - she said, puffing and pulling back the collar of her mustard-colored turtleneck.

- Well, everything has begun again! - Roma was indignant, trying to get up, but his mother grabbed her hand, and he flopped back.

- What again? Not again, but again. Here's how to let you go It hasn't been two weeks since your last outburst, and I still can't come to my senses.

– Enrages already! After all, I said a hundred times, it was just role-playing and that's it! They ran with the boys, waved their swords. Just think, you jumped unsuccessfully from the stairs, and you are glad to breed a kipezh. Nothing bad happened.

Roma was cunning. I got scared myself when I sprained my injured ankle. It was her that he broke half a year ago on the same role-playing game. His eyes darkened, and he barely grabbed the railing of the stairs. He did not remember how he found himself on the steps, he immediately vomited. The head was spinning. The guys crowded in fright, shook him by the shoulders, thought with fear that he had broken his leg again, and called an ambulance. The ambulance, of course, contacted the police, suspecting a beating. The police scared my mother to death. In general, that mess came out. Mom then sobbed for a week and indicatively dripped Corvalol into a glass.

Everything will be fine. Well, what are you, really, - father squeezed between them. - There are excellent counselors. Rostislav said that the children simply will not have time to do nonsense, every minute is busy. He showed the schedule - all sorts of concerts, intellectual games, quizzes. And no extreme!

- Yes, I know! But it still makes me feel a little uneasy!

- I know Rostik from the university. He was the best in our stream, always and in everything the first. And how much he himself traveled as a counselor, not to count, then as a methodologist, then he grew up to the head of the camp!

Father was saying something encouraging, and Roma remembered the day when his parents met with Rostislav Alexandrovich and he tried to persuade his mother to send her son to the camp for a long time. Father has long been in favor, but my mother...

- I will accept it as my own, - said Rostislav Aleksandrovich. – But the demand will be twice as strict.

Mom seemed to give up, but after that she regretted her decision ten times.

She sighed:

– There’s a huge load there, they run all the time and do something.

- That's good! The more he moves, the faster he will bounce back, trust me.

She sighed, as if agreeing with him, but distrust still showed in her eyes. Roma, indignant at heart, pretended that he didn’t care, while he secretly watched the parental squabbles.

- And by the way, about the girls, - mother emphasized the word "girls" and turned to Romka. - Be careful out there. Choose with whom to communicate, otherwise you know, everyone has gone now. There will be some ... Do not do any stupid things. We need to think about education now.

Roma rolled his eyes:

– Yes, yo-mayo! Mom, don't start! What study? It's only August!

- Oh, come on, Len! - slyly squinting, tried to smooth things out father. - What did you do to him? Like this, not like that. He should like her, not you. You remember yourself. Was it exemplary?

Mom turned to him, touched her unruly bangs with her fingers. Roma averted his eyes and squirmed on the couch, trying to get up. "It's time to get lost. The suitcase is packed, maybe play a "witch"?

“By the way, we met your mother in the camp, she was still a splinter,” his father stopped his barely begun escape.

- Misha! Mother blushed and pushed him away from her. “You promised not to remind me of this story.

The cell phone vibrated to the rescue, and Roma, somehow tearing his ass off the sofa, limped into the corridor so as not to listen to the secret story of a wonderful acquaintance. At the same time, he picked up an old guitar and put it next to the suitcase. He also decided to take her with him. When he broke his leg, the guitar became the only entertainment in an endless series of identical days. Roma downloaded chords from the Internet, and for several evenings his father taught him to perform the simplest songs. Then he did it himself.

“Yes,” Roma breathed into the phone.

- Hello, old man! Gathered already? Larissa asked sarcastically.

- Yeah, the suitcase looks like a bomb about to explode. And you?

- There are a few things left, they didn't fit. I thought about pushing you, but apparently it won't work. How are you feeling?

- Laris, at least you won't ask this nonsense? Mom already got it. She only talks to me about pills and how she feels, as if I'm turning seventy-five one of these days.

- Oh, don't grumble, old man. I just asked if you're nervous.

- Yes, they already got it, they constantly carry some kind of nonsense! Get out of here as soon as possible.

Lariska chuckled stifledly:

– Don't exaggerate.

- I sometimes have the feeling that they are from another planet. Estimate, I will turn away, and one of them will burst out of his chest "alien" and devour me! Although mom is already perfectly sucking out the brains with her psychos!

- You will say the same. OK, see you tomorrow! In the camp we will bulge to the fullest. Endure the night and freedom! yuhu!

- Bye! - Roma dropped the call, stood thoughtfully in the corridor, listened to the voices of the relatives. "Yes, Larka is right, everything will change tomorrow." Tomorrow he will make his own decisions. The leg was sore and swollen. Mother cannot speak. "Where's that stupid ointment?"

In the morning Roma felt more cheerful. Something unusually stuck yesterday, even felt sorry for himself. What nonsense. But as for the cane, I decided for sure: I won’t take it with me. Mom, of course, freaked out, then she began to persuade, then flatter:

- Yes, you are the spitting image of Dr. House with her!

Roma didn't even comment. She, not finding support, turned her anxious gaze on her father and began to saw. I sawed it at a bus stop, then on the bus, from the second stop to the youth committee:

- Misha, I'm worried!

- This is your usual state, I'm not surprised.

- I have a feeling that we want to get rid of our sick child.

- Damn it! It hurts ... - Roma was indignant, but his father interrupted him in mid-sentence.

- Len, we've discussed this a hundred times! Get rid! She herself said that he climbs the wall from idleness, because we are at work all day, and there is no one to entertain him except us, - dad spoke calmly, Roma envied his patience. He decided not to interfere with his opinion for now and listen to what his mother came up with this time so as not to let him go to the camp.

- How will he be there? One! – brushing away tears, mother said.

They finally reached the place of departure and stopped. People were bustling around. This chaos was energizing. Roma was already impatient to join the crowd, to free herself from the endless suffocating maternal care. Roma saw a confused Larisa at the registration table. She glanced at him briefly, waved her hand and that was it. She turned away. Everywhere children and counselors scurried about, bags and suitcases piled up. Everyone moved, fussed, made noise, sang, laughed. His gaze caught on her. Weird girl in sunglasses. On this rainy day, they were "very welcome." Yes. But not only did they attract attention, everything about her was strange, unnatural: both pink hair, and a straight posture, and some kind of external detachment. Roma immediately thought that they were somewhat similar. She seemed, like him, broken. Just the first thing that came to his mind. But at the same time, if Roma felt at home among this crowd, then she seemed like a stranger.

Roma must have been looking at her too closely. He felt rather than saw how the sharp gaze behind the dark glasses glared at him, and then quickly turned away, as if he had been caught doing something embarrassing. Father began to comfort mother again.

When Roma decided to look at that girl in sunglasses again, he couldn't find her in the crowd. The leaders announced the landing, and a crowd of teenagers rushed to board. Roma and Larisa, caught up by the current, moved towards the buses parked by the road. Despite the fact that Roma began to limp more than usual, they managed to take places among the first. Roma and Larisa found two places nearby, he let Larisa go to the window, and they waved to their parents in unison. They talked and smiled, but Roma saw that his mother was wiping her tears. And Roma felt great, so I wanted to sing. Mainly due to the fact that in the turmoil I “forgot” my cane near the registration desk and no one noticed it.

The police car left first, followed by buses. A cute counselor in a blue T-shirt with a yellow camp logo on the chest started a game of snowball.

Read the book “I want to dance with you” online in full📖 — Katya Stepantseva — MyBook.

Dedicated to the one who

promised to read all my books.

Chapter 1

Woke up again because she was screaming in her sleep. I peeled off the pillow and pushed it away from me, leaning my cheek against the cool sheet. I had the same dream: I'm calling an ambulance.

- Ambulance, listening.

“Hello…” I was suffocating, my thoughts were tangled in my head, the words came out somehow intermittently with a breath, “Mom feels bad.

My throat was dry and I suddenly began to hiccup.

- Age?

– Hey… hic… bad… ho, do you hear?

- What is your age? the pipe asked sternly.

– Thirteen… hic…

– How old is Mom? - the pipe was indignant.

– Are the children playing around? - they said in the receiver and dropped the call.

Somehow, having found a mobile phone among the scattered things, I called the ambulance again, gave the address in a slurred tongue and lost consciousness.

Mom died on the way to the hospital, and I had to live with the thought that I killed her with an idiotic laugh.

A year has passed since then, and I haven't laughed once.

Chapter 2

She appeared in the way only sorceresses appear. Outside, the wind was raging and it was raining. In such weather, people sit at home under a blanket and watch endless TV shows, stroking a fat fluffy cat.

I was washing the dishes. “I hate it! Why the hell is there so much of it? Why do I even have to wash it? I want to lie down and listen to music endlessly.”

- You are absolutely incompetent in evaluating children in class! Why do you have only fives in your magazine? an unpleasant voice yelled.

“Because the children are preparing well, stretching their arms…” Maria Andreevna answered quietly.

“But the guys really know the material,” Maria Andreevna justified herself.

- Hello, Katya! she sang in her silvery voice.

“Hello, Maria Andreevna,” I drawled in surprise.

- I won't be long. I called your grandmother, agreed to meet today.

- Why?

- Put the kettle on, Katya! I'll tell you everything soon.

I stopped looking at the bag and went to pour water into the kettle.

- Well, that's all, - said Maria Andreevna. - So, today I came to inform you that tomorrow a new shift of the school assets camp begins and I invite Katerina to go there. There is only one ticket!

At such moments, cartoon characters' jaws fall off, and their eyes become the size of a saucer. I was also surprised, not so violently, but still.

“She agrees,” Grandmother said joyfully, but then her gaze darted in my direction and immediately faded.

- What? Did you decide for me again? - I was indignant, pouring boiling water into cups. And she thought: “What could be worse than being in the camp of leaders from all the schools in the city?”

Fragments of phrases could be heard from the kitchen: “You have to live for the sake of the child… If you don’t pull yourself together, then she won’t be able to… Everything will work out…”

They wanted to buy me marmalade. I threw away the fragrant strips in disgust and crept up to the sideboard. From the farthest corner of the bottom drawer she took out the cherished box with letters and a dark blond curl in a white envelope. She carefully took out this curl and stroked it: “Everyone forgot you, mom. They want me to forget too.” Tears hung on my eyelashes, and I terribly wanted to blink them away. Maria Andreevna made a noise in the corridor, getting ready, and I, brushing away uninvited tears, hastily hid my treasures back in the box.

She left, perhaps in a hurry to make another orphan happy. Grandmother silently packed my suitcase.

- How long have you known about the camp? I asked, squinting suspiciously.

- We discussed it back in the spring. I thought she'd talk to you early.

- I won't go! I said bluntly.

- Why? Go! Anything is better than being alone.

- Don't talk to me like I'm small.

– What are you like? Big one, right? Go to the camp, rest. You will get tired of this adult life like this, - the grandmother expressively put her hand to her throat.

– Oh, how are you with me, right? I said in a trembling voice.

- How? Maria Andreevna is sure that this camp will only benefit you! You will meet new good people, you will make friends. Normal.

– Do I only have crazy friends? Maybe I'm crazy, too? - Hysterical notes appeared in my voice, despite the fact that I really wanted to hide them.

– What does this have to do with it? You go, I've decided everything.

– Why do you always decide for me? You are not my mother, why are you climbing into my life? I screamed.

How to dance with you

A Dancer's Guide to Knowing What Dance to Do to a Song » Dance With Brandee

A Dancer’s Guide to Knowing What Dance to Do

What Dance Do I Do to This Song?

No Hard and Fast Rules

5 Easy Steps to Determine What Dance to Do

1. Get a Feel for the Song’s Speed

2. Rule Out If It’s a Waltz

3. Listen to Its Rhythm/Feel

4. When in Doubt, Step It Out

5. Or “Cheat” and Steal a Peek

Have Fun: Make into a Game!

I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You by Black Kids

Songfacts®:

Comments: 1

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Brown Eyed Girl

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White as Snow

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Read online "I want to dance with you", Katya Stepantseva - LitRes

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Read the book “I want to dance with you” online in full📖 — Katya Stepantseva — MyBook.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

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