and they were just interested to see how she interpreted the music. Whatever she did, they would still be her friends.
“Yes,” she said firmly. “I can show you.”
She put on the CD; then, as they watched, she moved into position. The woman’s voice was sweet, and as the song began slowly, Janya moved her hands gracefully and slowly swivelled her hips. Then she kicked off her sandals, and began to move up and down on her toes, rotating her head so her hair fell around her as she moved.
The fun began, and the pace picked up quickly. She moved a hip up and down, closed her eyes and lifted her wrist, letting it fall. Head to shoulders, wrists straight and hands across her closed eyes. Then she turned, thrusting her hips from one side to the other, shifting so they saw her in profile, then turning her back as her hips kept time to the music. Part belly dancing, part classical Indian dance, part folk dance, part salsa. Arms up, one at a time, crossing in front of her, wrists rotating, hands climbing until her arms were over her head. Then she went gracefully to one knee, turning as she performed hand movements that went with the song. On her feet again, her skirts swirling around her as her hips and feet moved fluidly, she lost herself in the song.
She was paying little attention to anything else now, but she knew her friends were with her. The women seemed mesmerized. Hands over her head, she shook her hips one way, then the other, in rhythm to the song. Palms down, hands drawing sharp lines in rhythm, then fluid once more as the music changed.
By the time she and the song had finished, she was elated. She wanted to dance forever. The music stopped, and the applause began.
“Wow, that was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Tracy said. “Actually, you were. Darn you, anyway. It seems so effortless for you, too. You don’t have to do a thing, and you’re drop-dead gorgeous.”
“You think we can shake our hips like that?” Wanda asked.
“I think you can try.” Janya motioned them to their feet.
“Can I do it, too?” Olivia looked at her grandmother. “Am I old enough?”
Everybody laughed, but Wanda got up, went over and lifted Janya’s skirt past her ankles. “Okay, the dancing is something else, but look at this, everybody.”
“What did you do to your ankle?” Olivia said. “Is that a tattoo?”
Janya pulled her skirt higher, so they could see. “It’s henna, only temporary. I am trying to learn to do them myself. Just for fun. Do you like it?”
The tattoo was intricate, covering the top of her foot and snaking up her ankle. The pattern looked like strands of lace, with swirls and loops and little bows. She thought she was learning the process quite nicely.
Everybody was fascinated. She stood on one foot and held up the one she had adorned. “You could be models for me. I would like to do a hand, only not my own.”
“Count me in,” Wanda said.
“Me, too,” Tracy agreed. “Except I’ll need somewhere special to go and somebody special to go there with.”
Janya smiled at Alice and Olivia, to encourage them, as well; then she realized this was not something she would ever be able to do for them. Because a henna tattoo would be so much proof they had been to her house, and she was sure Olivia’s father would be furious.
“All right,” she said quickly. “Let’s dance.”
Twenty minutes later, everyone was panting and laughing as Janya turned off the music. Wanda had already collapsed on the sofa. Tracy was still swiveling her hips, trying to move them more fluidly. But Alice was the winner. She didn’t move as quickly as the others, but there was an innate grace in every movement she made, an eternal youthfulness. She was by far the best of the lot, a natural dancer.
Wanda fanned herself with her hand. “This has been an afternoon of new experiences.”
“I have not…had so much fun…” Alice didn’t finish, but she didn’t need to.
“I like Bollywood dancing,” Olivia said.
“You’ll need to use those moves carefully, kiddo,” Wanda said. “Or you’ll have more boys flocking around you than you know what to do with.”
Tracy flopped into a chair on the other side of the room. She glanced at the table beside her, then lifted something from it. “Janya, what’s this?”
Janya fanned herself, too. “A bracelet for my brother.”
“Your brother wears a bracelet?”