Anything He wants
He points to the door, “Out there is your destiny. That's where we need to go to get you to the next stage. We're running out of time. We need to win, and we need to win now.”
I shake my head. “I don't get it.”
He looks over at the clock. “We've got thirty minutes, and we need to get you unwound. Dancing is all about fluid, gentle, tender movements. You have to flow, you have to love life. You can't be nervous or stiff. Those judges will see it in a second, and poof”—he snaps his fingers—“you're toast.”
My eyes drop to the floor. Am I really about to walk out there and lose everything?
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