Chapter One It was the first week of the semester. Dante had been at school three days already, and by Thursday morning, the break felt like a lifetime ago. It wasn''t even seven thirty, and he was ready for a full day of soccer, school, and ballet. Thursday was the longest day of the week, but he liked being busy. He had soccer practice in the morning and ballet in the afternoon, which was way better than the previous semester when he''d had soccer practice immediately followed by ballet. He had rushed into ballet class in his sweaty soccer gear more than once. "Mom! I''m off to soccer," he called out as he grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl. His mom came downstairs, fully dressed for work.

She taught fashion at the college not far from Dante''s school, and she was even busier than Dante. She tutored kids, volunteered with the community center and church, and had her own fashion business that she ran from the garage. "Good morning, Dante!" Mom called out cheerily. "Have a good practice. Next weekend''s match is the big one, isn''t it?" "Yup! I hope Coach Wild puts me in as forward!" replied Dante, high-fiving his mom. She was invested and interested in everything he did, but she didn''t pry or anything. She didn''t have to. Dante told his family pretty much everything.

"Shh! Dad''s got an early meeting," said Mom, lowering her voice. "He''s in the bedroom talking to his overseas team." Dante crept up the stairs, opened the door to his parents'' room, waved to Dad, and mouthed a silent "Bye!" Then he returned to the hallway, picked up his bag, checked himself in the mirror, and struck a ballet pose. "Very nice," said Mom with a chuckle. "Ah, I almost forgot. After school and ballet class, come to Grandma''s, OK? Aunt Shanice is away, and it''ll be nice for us to have dinner with Grandma." Dante nodded, still demonstrating ballet poses in front of the mirror as he asked, "Is she making her special bean curry, fried plantains, and, most importantly, sweet potato pudding?" Mom laughed. "Stop! Don''t put those smells into my brain.

I''m not going to be able to focus on work all day if I keep thinking about her cooking." Dante grinned, picking up his soccer gear just as the doorbell rang. "Bye, Mom!" said Dante, opening the door. "Love you!" "Morning, Mrs. Barrett," called Charlie as Dante ran outside to meet him. "Have a lovely day, you two," she replied as she waved to them. Even though Charlie wasn''t on the soccer team, he and Dante often walked to school together in the mornings because they lived next door to each other. While Dante had soccer practice, Charlie had breakfast club, where he worked on his paintings and sculptures.

Then on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Charlie and Dante went from school to ballet class together, along with Momoka, who also went to their school. They also had class on Saturdays. Dante had always been a dancer. Everyone in his family loved dancing--their family gatherings were full of good food, loud reggae and hip-hop music, and everybody grooving. Dante and his mom were always competing against each other, trying to prove who was the best dancer. However, Dante had never thought about ballet until he saw it being performed one day. He had gone with his mom to watch a show put on at her college. He was mesmerized.

So when Charlie and Momoka had signed up for Miss Diamond''s ballet class at Shimmer and Shine, Dante had wanted to join too. His parents hadn''t even hesitated a second before agreeing. "Gotta do what the heart wants," his dad had said. "Join for a term and see whether you like it." Dante had not just liked it. He had loved it! He found that dancing and soccer were two sides of the same coin. Both involved intricate moves with the body and feet, and he always felt at home with either of them. Sometimes his soccer friends had teased him when he ran straight from soccer practice to ballet class, but Dante thought nothing of it.

His family had always instilled in him a sense of pride in whatever he chose to do. "If you''re doing the right thing, Dante," his dad often said, "then don''t worry about what others tell you." So that morning, when soccer practice ended and Dante had showered and changed into his school uniform, he was looking forward to an afternoon of dancing later. Until his soccer team invited him to a friendly match in the park. "Dante, you up for a game after school?" "I can''t," said Dante. "I have ballet class." His friends roared with laughter. "You still going to that? Weird, man!" said Carlton.

"You want to be a professional soccer player or not?" added Ronnie. "Yeah, man! Soccer players don''t dance!" said Carlton firmly. Dante waved them away. "I''ll be the first ballet-dancing soccer player, then!" he said. "And you know what? It helps me be a better player! You should try it. It might improve your game." They all laughed in disbelief, but Dante ignored them as he picked up his bag and left for class. He didn''t care what they thought.

Ballet had been so helpful with soccer in so many ways, and soccer had helped him in ballet too. He loved both. Why should it be a this-or-that choice? he asked himself, shaking his head.