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Chapter Seven
It was only after Ollie got into her car that she remembered she forgot to get her usual cup of tea to go. She dropped her things in the car and rushed back, hoping to see Jackson again, but he wasn’t there. She grabbed her tea then drove to the studio. And in her excitement, she dropped hot tea all over herself. Which was as pleasant as it sounded.
“You’re late,” Kristen at the front desk of Tiny Dancers announced when Ollie walked in, tapping her smartwatch. “And you’ve got something all over you.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”
“You’re lucky all your kids aren’t here yet.”
“Can you set up for me? I’m going to swap clothes.” Ollie asked with a smile and hurried into the back to change.
Melody, Kristen’s sister, started Tiny Dancers years ago when she realized there were people in town who wanted to learn how to dance but had nowhere to go in Wildes. When Ollie showed up for her interview, she’d asked Melody if she was an Elton John fan and the woman looked at her puzzled. Ollie had memories of her parents dancing toTiny Dancerby Elton John in the kitchen, and she’d been raised by a man who lived for the classics. Apparently, Melody just liked the way it sounded and it stuck.
Dancing was therapeutic. When she was young, she would walk into dance class and forget about everything else—all the annoyances of her family and school drama. It might have started out with ballet, but eventually as her body changed, Ollie found other forms of dance to embrace.
She might have had dreams to go places, to work with a dance school in New York or California, or even become a choreographer on some big stage, but teaching kids dance was comforting. They weren’t as enthusiastic as she was, but once they got down to it, they were always happy to learn. And with TikTok creating new dances, Ollie was learning something new from them too.
When she first started at Tiny Dancers, Ollie had considered making it her full-time job. But Melody couldn’t afford to pay her. It was why she juggled two jobs—both exhausting her to the point of delirium some nights. To most people, having the kind of education she did with all the opportunities at her fingertips, Ollie could work any job. But she didn’t like sitting still for too long. Dancing helped her deal with all of her frustrations and working at the Barrel allowed her to make more money. It wasn’t like either job paid her a lot, but she was able to save quite a bit every month.
One day, Ollie would quit working at the Barrel and put all of her focus into dancing. She wasn’t a ballet dancer or a professional dancer, but she was passionate. And she saw the impact she was making with the kids she taught. When Jackson talked about how karate helped mental strength, Ollie realized that on some level, dance did the same. It taught you coordination, balance, focus, strengthened your memory and how to use your body to tell a story.
Thinking about her morning with Jackson made Ollie smile. Shehadbeen different. And it felt good.
Pulling her hair up into a messy bun on top of her head, Ollie smoothed her hands over her t-shirt and clean leggings, and walked into the studio.
“Miss Bowen, you’re late!” The tiniest of dancers called out, dressed in a purple tutu, hands on her hips and her little ponytail swaying as she shook her head.
“I’m sorry, Claire, being an adult is hard.”
“Mommy says that too, but she saysmommy juicehelps.”
“Of course she does,” Ollie snorted and smiled as Claire twirled back into formation.
Ollie let the kids wear whatever they wanted during her classes—some of the girls wore colorful tutus, others wore leggings and t-shirts, there were also some boys who came straight from whatever sport they were into that year and danced while sweaty and gross. In the beginning, Ollie had told parents their kids needed to wash up or at least change clothes before showing up for dance, but they clearly ignored her request.
“Places! We’ve got an hour and I want to see if you remember everything from our last class.”
Hours later Olliewas sitting on the floor, her back against the wall of mirrors. The kids had danced their little hearts out and insisted Ollie dance with them too, so she had. The little ones left and the next batch came in, made up of slightly older girls. They were the bane of her existence. Every single one of them wore new sparkly clothes to class, they all did their hair the same way, wore shiny lip gloss and talked with a weird lilt in their accent.
When they left, her final group came in. This was her favorite group—it was made up of women, mostly between the ages of 25 and 40. While Tiny Dancers mostly catered to young kids, Ollie had convinced Melody that giving moms and other women a place to go to let loose would be a great idea. They didn’t expect so many women to sign up. It was also her largest class with over 25 women packed into her standard studio room. But they were all so enthusiastic and knew the classic dance songs from the 80s and 90s. They even remembered dance moves by their favorite boy bands.
Dancing was also a way for her to come to terms with her body. Ollie was a confident woman who wore tight jeans and t-shirts, who flaunted her curves and her large ass. That morning, under Jackson’s gaze, she’d feltbeautiful. She liked that he enjoyed what he saw. Ollie had been pretty upfront about her attraction to him too, which was unlike her. But what was the point in pretending she didn’t feel something? Especially after how she’d treated him the first few times.
But still, people didn’t seem to enjoy watching women who weren’tskinnydancing. In a time when Lizzo was alive, how was the world still behaving like that?
Teaching kids was good that way. They didn’t judge her size, didn’t comment on her shaking thighs or the fact her boobs were dancing when she was. They danced and let their troubles fly free. And for someone like Ollie, to be around kids who were so positive and adorable was a treat. But there were always going to be mothers who didn’t understand these classes wouldn’t turntheirtiny dancers into professional dancers.
“Oleander, do you have a minute?” A nasally voice interrupted her thoughts and Ollie glanced over at the woman standing in the doorway of her studio.
Speaking of mothers…
“Hey, Candice.” Ollie forced herself not to roll her eyes and stood up.
“I know we’ve talked about this before, but I don’t think you should mix the boys and girls together for your classes.”
“Forgive me for not remembering your reasons behind it.”
“Those boys aren’t here to learn dance seriously, and they distract all the girls.”
