A Wicked Choice by Calinda B Read Free Book Online

clad figures dispersing around the room, I turned to greet them. Most of them were familiar faces at the community center.
    “Hello, Sally! Beth, how’re the kids? How’s Tom?” I kept up an easy chitty chatty banter as they filled the room. This was one of the only places I could do this. The rest of the time I was a graceless mess with nothing to say; sure no one would listen anyway.
    Then, I noticed a new student, an elderly woman wearing a long plaid wool skirt and an oversized sweater of golden brown. Worn leather shoes poked out from underneath the folds of fabric. It was an odd costume for working out, but I had seen worse.
    “Hello. Are you new?” I inquired, clipboard in hand, ticking off the names of the students. “What’s your name?”
    The woman looked over at me, unblinking, with cold eyes like an eagle with a mouse in her sights. Her auburn hair, streaked with white, hung in two braids down her back. Tendrils of escaped hair sprang in coils from the cloth that bound her braids, giving her the appearance of being caught in an electrical storm. She smelled of dried leaves and sweet herbs. Her skin was remarkably unlined and taut, yet she looked as old as a Roman temple.
    “Not new, not by a long shot…been on this planet a long time.”
    Her response unnerved me. I stammered, “I meant new to the class.”
    “I know what you meant.”  She regarded me without speaking further.
    Some of the students glanced over at us, and I began to feel tiny trickles of sweat at my hairline. “Well, find a place, and we’ll begin. Just follow along – I repeat the steps over and over – and if you have any trouble we’ll work on it after class.”
    “Oh, we began a long time ago,” she said softly, gazing steadily into my eyes. “And if YOU have any trouble…let’s just say we’ll be in touch.”
    The hair on the back of my neck stood up as she spoke. I smiled a discomfited and uneasy grimace and strode towards the front of the room. “okay…ready? Let’s get moving.” 
    “Legs apart, toes turn out, take a few deep breaths as you raise your arms up overhead,” I began. “Now reach to the side and breathe…that’s it…slow and easy. Take your time warming up.” As I focused on the warm up I hoped my voice did not sound as shaky as I felt. “Now, face the step and make an easy step tap, that’s it, step tap. One, two, follow the beat, step tap, step tap…”  I kept what I hoped was a smile on my face and took the class through a well-memorized routine. 
    Filled with anxiety, I kept glancing surreptitiously at the woman in the back of the room. She stood in front of her step, arms folded, eyes trained on me like she was looking through the crosshairs of a scoped rifle. She made no attempt to follow along. I focused on the other students, trying to appear calm and cheerful, all the while feeling unnerved. Time stretched into a long, slow ribbon of molasses. I kept nervously watching the clock, observing the hands inch along, willing them to move faster.  Finally, the class was over. “And, that’s a wrap!  See you next week!” I called, feigning gaiety.  Then, I blew my cheeks out and exhaled a long, slow breath.
    The students made their way back to the dressing room as I gathered up my belongings, my back to the door. When the room was quiet, I turned to head to the next class. The old woman stood right behind me. “Oh!” I jumped, straight up, the CDs and iPod clattering to the floor. “I didn’t hear you.”
    She did not say anything, just kept the steady stare. I felt my solar plexus start to hum. Instinctively, I pressed my palms against my stomach, like I did so many years ago at the edge of the field in gym class.
    “Don’t,” she barked, in a husky, gravelly voice.
    “D-d-don’t what…?” I stuttered.  I felt like I was the tongue-tied 16 year-old again.
    “Don’t try to suppress what you are feeling. Take your hands away from your stomach.” She reached out to