then, I answer my own question. “I came here to prove to myself I could do it,” I say. “And I did. I’m not a wanna-be—I’m a really good dancer, just like Ms. Truly said. Even though I have no chance at this job, I was great in there. And I’m as good a dancer as any of those other girls.
Better
.”
I take a deep breath and exhale, smiling. All of a sudden, it doesn’t matter anymore whether I get the job as a backup dancer, because right now, I feel like dancing till the break of dawn.
“Float like a butterfly and sting like a bee, all the way to the library,” I hum to myself as I step outside onto Lafayette Street.
Maybe Ms. Truly is right. Maybe I should give up singing, which I’m just okay at, and stick to dancing. I do like singing though, even if I’m not that good. And I am getting better at it, thanks to Drinka Champagne’s lessons.
Sitting down at a library desk, I settle down with the fattest name book I can find—
Boo-Boos to Babies Name Book
. Word. They have so many names in it from all around the world—and most of them I’ve never seen before.
Starting with the “A’s,” I decide to look up Arba’s name, but I don’t see it listed. Then I think, What about Topwe’s name? I look it up … Here it is: “In southern Rhodesia, the topwe is a vegetable.” I’d better not tell Twinkie, I think, ’cuz then she’ll tease Topwe, and call him “Hedda Lettuce” or something. She is smart like that.
Then I see my name. Ms. Dorka is right. “Dorinda” means “God’s gift.” Ooh, look—the English variation of the name is “Dorothea.” That’s Bubbles’s mom’s name! Wait till I tell Bubbles that I have the same name as her mom!
Suddenly I get a pang in my chest. I
can’t
tell Bubbles, because then she’ll ask me how I met Dorka! It hits me full force that I’ll never be able to tell my crew anything about my big audition! Ill never be able to say how Ms. Truly praised my dancing, or how I was brave enough to show up, and how I came through when it counted most. They’ll never hear about Dorka.
It’s a good thing I haven’t got a chance at this job, I think with a laugh, ’cuz what would I tell them then? “Hey, y’all, I’m going on a ’round the world tour with Mo’ Money Monique. See you later, cheetah-gators!”
I laugh at the thought of it. “Fat chance,” I say, thinking of the hundreds of girls trying out for the job.
Hmmm … but there
is
a job I
can
possibly get, I think, remembering what Abiola told me.
Walking out of the library, I decide not to go home just yet. If I could get up the courage to go on the audition, then I can go downtown to see if I can get a job in the University Settlement’s after-school program.
Being a Cheetah Girl is dope, but since our first gig, we haven’t made any money at it, and the Apollo Amateur Night, while it’s good exposure for us, doesn’t pay either. Meanwhile, I need to start making
serious
loot.
Sure, we make a lot of our own outfits, but there are some things a Cheetah Girl just has to go out and buy. That’s no problem for the rest of my crew. But as for me, my job at the YMCA concession stand doesn’t pay enough, and I hate asking Mrs. Bosco for
anything
, because I know she can’t afford it.
On the subway, I wonder again why my name is Dorinda. Did my real mom name me after someone? Why do I have a Spanish name? Nah, I can’t be Spanish!
One thing is for sure—the receptionist at the University Settlement is
definitely
Spanish. “May I help you?” she asks, pushing her long, wavy black hair behind her ear.
“Um, I’m a freshman at Fashion Industries High School, and I want to apply for the after-school work program,” I say, feeling large and in charge now that I’ve been to a big audition for a job that pays a zillion times what this one does.
The pretty
señorita
hands me an application form and says, “You’ll have to fill this form out, then someone will be right with
Learning to Kill: Stories