6.1: Reading Exercise – Dancing with Silverware

Image by jessib381 from Pixabay

Dancing with Silverware

By James Thibeault

Maya sat upright and could feel her entire spine align along the blue-painted concrete wall in the school gymnasium. Pressed against the wall, with a flat soda in hand, she visualized herself surgically fused to the concrete. Then she imagined the horrifying scenario in which someone didn’t mind she was a wall monster and proceeded to talk to her away. That thought scared her even more. Perhaps if she messed up her hair, spilled soda on her sweater, and snarled at anyone nearby, that would keep her safe from conversation. But the whole reason for her being here was to actually talk to people. Why was this so difficult?

She sat on the top bleachers, looking down at all the other students. The school didn’t have a large budget for a dance, so they dimmed the lights, put up recycled streamers, bought off-brand soda and snacks, and convinced Mr. Patel, the history teacher, to DJ the event with his own equipment.

“Allllllright ladies and gentlemen,” said Mr. Patel. He wore sunglasses in a barely lit gymnasium and wore a baseball cap slightly to the side. “I want to see y’all go wild on the dance floor with this one. Grab your partner and let’s grind this one out!” Mr. Patel turned up the music. The bass was so menacing, it vibrated the bleachers that Maya sat on. Surprised, the students were quick to oblige and moved into provocative pulsations. On the other side of the gym, Principal Rodriguez put her hands on her hips and glared back at Mr. Patel. He, regrettably, lowered the music a tad.

“I mean, dance with consented approval and keep your hands at a safe distance!” Mr. Patel roared. The students roared back. Principal Rodriguez, still wearing her daytime business suit, tapped the backs of some students who were a bit too excited, to say the least, and managed to home in on a few. However, Mr. Patel, swooned by the power of dance music, kept playing jam after jam. Soon, despite the mediocre décor, the students were having a blast. Maya watched the transformation in disgust.

She wanted this to be a flop. It was the perfect counter to her mother’s forced requirement to “dance the night away.” Friday night was usually when she focused on her silverware sculpture art. By now, she would already have purchased a ton of silverware from a secondhand store and sorted it out in the basement. Then, she placed her favorite cutlery in the center and talked to them. Eventually, with the help of pilers, vices, and some torch work, her conversations with inanimate objects would create some masterpieces. However, her mother forced her to dress up and head to the dance. “You can’t keep talking to forks,” Maya’s mother told her. Therefore, Maya went to the dance reluctantly, and she expected to come home triumphant, explaining how disastrous and boring it was. However, Mr. Patel was not relenting with the beats.

She rose, descending each bleacher with a decisive thump. The noise was deafening to her, but for the others, it was drowned out by the cacophony of Mr. Patel’s unrelenting grooves. When she reached the final step, she could feel the body heat and perspiration from the dancers. A part of her wanted to swan dive into the crowd and lose herself like the others. They moved and swayed like heated aluminum with infinite possibilities. Just as she was about to step off the final riser, Mr. Patel spotted her. He instantly grabbed the mic and shouted, “Oh you know we got a party now! Metal Maya just entered the floor.” Mr. Patel pointed to her and the whole crowd collectively turned to her. They roared with approval, chanting “Metal Maya! Metal Maya!” Startled, she ran away from the crowd and sought solace elsewhere.

Outside, the music was only a dull beat muffled by the cold concrete. She rested her body against the wall and tried to slow down her breathing. Is that what they called her? How did they even know? Maya reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She was about to text her mom to pick her up when Principal Rodriguez opened the exit door and spotted Maya. Without a word, she leaned against the wall, and together they looked up at the night sky.

“Some dance, huh?” said Principal Rodriquez.

“I’m surprised you let it get that wild.”

“Oh, they definitely toned it down now. I insisted. No more out-of-control party animals on my watch.”

“Thanks. Now Metal Maya is now Metal ‘No Fun’ Maya.”

“Why do they call you that?”

“I thought everyone knew, apparently.”

“When you’re a principal, you do all the managerial and political stuff. You don’t actually get to know the students, which is kind of weird when you think about it.”

“I craft art out of silverware.”

“Wow, I thought they called you that because you were too punk rock or something. I don’t know if that’s the right word anymore. Too cool to dance, you know.”

Maya sarcastically laughed, “No, just about the opposite.” She scrolled through her phone and found a photo. “I was supposed to finish this piece tonight.”

“That’s not finished?”

“Almost, I like to polish the metal, so it feels more like one unit.”

“It seems like you have a lot of fun with it.”

“I do.”

“So why did you come here tonight?”

Maya tried to voice her feelings, but she couldn’t choose her words like knives from her stock box. What was scary about people is that they were even more malleable than the metal. At least with silverware, you knew their breaking points. Sure, it took some effort to coerce metal to move, but once you had control, it was very clear how it could move and to what limit. People bend, but to what degree? At what point do they snap? She had no idea how they would react, and she had no idea how they would react to her.

“My mom thinks I talk to forks more than I talk to people.”

Principal Rodriquez laughed. Embarrassed, Maya walked away from the wall and dialed her mother.

“No, no, no,” said Principal Rodriquez. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine. I’m having my mom pick me up.”

“You’re different. I’m different. And I laugh when things are different. I didn’t mean anything negative. You have a really special talent.”

Maya lowered her phone.

“How do I know what’s a good laugh and a bad laugh?”

“Talking? Listening?”

“Do those people even like me in there?”

“I don’t know. I like you, but I had to get to know you first.”

Maya squeezed hard on her phone, then she sighed and placed it back into her pocket.

“Can we go back in?”

“Sure, but give me a head start, okay?”

Principal Rodriquez walked back inside and left Maya alone. Maya felt a sudden rush of comfort with the solitude. However, her high school experience couldn’t be just spoons, knives, and forks. After a deep breath, she reentered the gym.

Inside, the music was lame. A mediocre melody with no rhythm caused the students to dance lethargically. Mr. Patel, head down, lazily adjusted some knobs on his sound board. Students dawdled and were pulling out their phones. Maya was about to go and hide again when Principal Rodriquez grabbed the mic. “Gentleman and laaaaaaaaadies, we need to return some excitement here.” Mr. Patel eagerly looked at her for official approval. He hovered his finger over one mysterious button. “When I say ‘dance’ you say ‘respectfully!’”

“That’s a little too much there, boss.”

“Whatever, have fun!” she turned to Mr. Patel and gave a nod. With a squeal, he pressed the button and the music instantly changed. The bombastic bass had returned, and students went wild. Maya walked closer to the center mass, her heart racing. When she reached the perimeter, she felt thuds of people jumping up and down. She looked up and saw Principal Rodriquez smiling at her, but that caused some students to turn back. Again, students stared at Maya. She froze. Then, she jumped really high and came back down. The students cheered, “Metal Maya! Metal Maya!”

Maya danced with the other spoons, knives, and forks for the rest of the night.

Comprehension Questions for Dancing with Silverware

Questions on Character Arcs for Dancing with Silverware