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Main > Series > Chapters > Fame Annual 1983 > One Small Step
If the sudden invasion of the snow slowed the world down a little. the world did not mind too much. It bound people together in a strange way as they battled the elements, sharing stories of abandoned cars and disorganised days, the inadequacy of the city works department, and the inaccuracy of the weathermen. Brothers in adversity, they shared the childish joy of normality suspended and the world transformed. Snowflakes floated down, the city lay in a half-dream. Outside the School of The Arts the snow was falling in considerable quantity, in fist-size balls whose flights criss-crossed the front of the building and exploded on body, brick and sidewalk in a ceaseless spray of white. Coco gathered up a handful of snow, moulded it with her gloves, ducked a passing missile, and let fly with her own. Lydia Grant's right shoulder spun back as the snowball crashed against her and splintered into crystal fragments. It took Coco a fraction of a second to duck down behind a cluster of boys and emerge from the other side, bag hung demurely by her side, an innocent passer by like Lydia. One or two other members of staff had also fallen victim to the crossfire, and with Lydia's help the chaotic battleground returned to peace. "You could have somebody's eye out with a weapon like that, honey!" said Lydia sternly, disarming a student before moving on to break up other nearby ranks. She shook the snow from her collar, shivered as a number of particles escaped inside her clothes. melting cold into her skin. Elizabeth Sherwood came along the street, tightly wrapped inward, head bowed against the falling snow. "Hi, Lydia." she said with surprise, almost walking into her colleague. "Glad to see the ceasefire was called before I arrived. I see you took a direct hit." She helped Lydia fluff out the tiara of snowflakes that sparkled in her hair like diamonds. Lydia drew herself up, pulled her collar in, and the two of them trudged over to the entrance. "Is it just because we grow up." asked Lydia as they walked, "that snowstorms become a bad thing, or have they always been a bad thing, and we were just too dumb to know any better when we were kids?" Elizabeth Sherwood laughed, linking her arm with Lydia as they mounted the well-ploughed steps to the entrance. "It's nothing to do with the weather," she answered. "If it's summer it's too hot--it's the same thing. Being grown up is what causes it. They ought to pass a law against becoming adult, it spoils all the fun." "I feel old," complained Doris, looking out of the window at the white ribbon of roadway below, the furrows of car tracks like railway lines on the blank surface. "Maybe it's the weather. It all looks so bright and new, and I feel like yesterday's leftovers. Maybe I've missed my chance and passed my peak; I should have been a child star. What do you think?" "About you being old, or the weather?" asked Montgomery, pressing his face against the glass. "Let's stick to the weather, okay?" suggested Doris. "I think I'll like it better that way." "Ouch! That's cold," cried Montgomery, stepping back from the window, a burning glow on his face. "I feel slowed down." said Julie, rubbing her arms briskly to stir her circulation. "Everything feels that bit harder to do when you're cold, you move that bit more slowly." Danny joined the group surveying the scene below. "You can warm yourself up on Friday." "How's that?" "Bruno's holding a party over at his place." "Bruno? Holding a party?" asked Montgomery, gathering up his belongings. "Did you hear that?" asked Danny as the group began to drift off along the corridor heading for class. "This guy should try putting a memory act together. What recall!" Montgomery aimed a blow and missed. "Oh yeah," remembered Danny, "and if anybody's interested, a little cabaret is being put together. Quality acts only, of course, no riff-raff." "That lets you out then," observed Montgomery. "Lets me out nothing!" retorted Danny. "I'm the one who's bringing the show a touch of class. Your Master of Ceremonies for the evening, direct from New York--" "-this is New York-" "-direct from New York, that talented young comedian... need I say more?" enquired Danny nonchalantly. Doris looked at him with amazement. "Bruno chose you as comedian for the night?" Danny rankled slightly. "Yeah, me. Why not? Who else would he pick?" "Attila the Hun, maybe?" Coco Hernandez enjoyed being at the School of The Arts. She wasn't mad about studying, the reading and writing side of school, but it wasn't awful. She understood that it was important to gain a regular education and she was a bright enough student not to make heavy weather of it. She did what was required of her, and if she didn't pour her enthusiasm completely into the academic side of things it was because she had other interests that claimed priority. She knew she was good. She had a great future as a dancer, as a singer, she had no doubts as to what direction she was headed in. So while she did put in the work to maintain her grades in the regular subjects, she reserved her main energies for what she felt was truly important to her future. For the millionth time she reflected on her good fortune in finding a place at the School of The Arts where she could develop her talents, hone them to the degree of professionalism she knew was necessary for her to make it in her chosen career At the same time she was aware it was not simply good fortune that had landed her in this place. It was talent. She was acutely aware of how good she actually was, and if she sometimes struck other students as having a high opinion of herself it was because it was justified. It was true that she was less arrogant about her talent than she had been when she was younger, for as she and her abilities had matured under the sure hands of her teachers two things had slowly dawned on her. The first was how much she still had to learn; that had been a hard lesson to grasp, and even now she was too young to fully comprehend that nothing can replace actual experience. Nevertheless. the more she found herself developing under people like Lydia the more her respect for her teachers' skills, the result of years of application and hard work, grew. The second realisation that she had found creeping into her consciousness was that real talent did not have to draw attention continually to itself. If at one time she had been an inveterate exhibitionist, showing off at the slightest opportunity, thrusting her superiority into other people's faces all the time, she had now begun to allow her talent to speak for itself. She was still undeniably extrovert, taking any chance she could to display her abilities, but as she'd grown up the reasons for it had subtly changed. It was more the case now that she danced and sang 'in public' because of the sheer enjoyment it gave her to do so. She was in love with what she did for its own sake and her desire to demonstrate it was uncontrollable. She was addicted to performing. These changes in her attitude, the gradual move from childish bigheadedness to adult professionalism, had not, however, blunted her ambition or her sense of competitiveness. The will to succeed had been sharpened, focused more clearly, as her awareness of the professional world of entertainment had grown. And while the thrill of an audience's applause had remained as bright and brilliant as ever, her awareness of the need to improve, to expand her skills had concentrated her effort into a fierce and demanding process of dedicated and determined application to her music and dance lessons. She was eager, even impatient to be released into the big world, to put her talent to the test in the front line, and she strove perpetually to improve herself for the moment when the big break came, which she knew with adolescent certainty would come Coco Hernandez was going to be a star, she sensed the inevitability of it, and every day brought it closer to reality. In the meantime, she put her heart and soul into preparing herself. Ain' t nothing going to stop me I'm going to the top (where ?) I know I've got the talent I'm going to the top (where?)
Lydia Grant was as aware as Coco herself of the girl's potential. With Coco it was not so much encouragement that was needed as guidance The energy which Coco poured into her work was like that of a space rocket engine thrusting powerfully against gravity, yearning to leap from the ground into the stratosphere. Lydia's job was to channel that relentless. immeasurable energy, make it work for Coco so that it was not dissipated and wasted. She looked around the practice room. She was proud of her students. They worked hard, extraordinarily hard, and she understood the forces that drove them. But such talent and determination needed to be shaped to be aimed at the right goals, to be disciplined by the necessities of the profession, refined until the raw energy of these young dancers was a polished and efficient expression of their capabilities, their imagination and flair. Coco was learning fast, overtaking her teacher as she unstintingly progressed towards the stardom Lydia sensed would one day be hers. But as an older and wiser head, Lydia was also concerned that Coco's temperament should match her dancing skills in development. It was a hard, tough business she was entering and while Coco's single mindedness impressed her teacher it was not enough to think only of ever growing success. Life was rarely like that, and Coco still had to learn to harness her determination to succeed to reality. It could, after all, be critical in how Coco coped with the uncertainties of a show business career. She did not want to quench the girl's unquestionable spirit, but to broaden its awareness, prepare it for the real world. Lydia brought her attention back to the class. Effort showed clearly on their faces, beads of perspiration mottled their features, like rain on a window pane. It had been a hard session. The exercise finished and the students relaxed on the floor. "That's good," commented Lydia. positioning herself so that she faced the assembly. "That's the way to do it. Start slowly, don't push it too early. Gradually build up the pace without overdoing it." She moved through the scattering of bodies. the deep breathing of the students bearing witness to the effort they had put into the morning's work. "Always remember," Lydia went on as she walked among them, "that your bodies can't just be switched on and off to this sort of thing. It's a living organism and it needs to be treated with care; you can't expect it to be still one moment and doing a hundred miles an hour the next." The class murmured in amusement, acknowledging the accuracy of Lydia's metaphorical estimate of how hard their bodies had been pushed in the last exercise. "It's especially important," said Lydia, continuing, coming to the back of the class and beginning to work her way forward again, "when the temperature's as low as it is today. However fit or supple you think your bodies are, when it's as cold as this your bones are more brittle, your muscles that much more sluggish. Don't drive them too hard too soon or something will give. Treat your body with respect, lead it gently in and build up gradually, give it time to loosen up." She halted and took in the whole class with a sweeping look. "All right. That's all for today. Class dismissed." Danny rounded the corner of the corridor at speed, clutching a bundle of notes to his chest. Leroy, agile mover though he was, had no time to sidestep and the next moment he and Danny found themselves on the floor beneath a cascade of paper. "Hey, man," complained Leroy, you never heard of slowing down on bends? This Leroy's going to end up a write-off with crazies like you burning up the highway." "Hey, sorry, Leroy," apologised Danny, scuffling round reassembling his file. "I guess my feet need a retread; I didn't see you in time." Leroy grudgingly let it pass, and hauled himself up. Danny blocked his path, and picked up the last of the sheets. "In fact, you're just the man I want to see." he said, shuffling the paper into a neat stack. "You heard about Bruno's party on Friday? I'm organising a little entertainment to give the evening a bit of class, and it just so happens I have a spot free, just begging for a top-line dance act to fill it. I though maybe you and Coco--" Leroy's look stopped him dead. "You're full of hot air, Amatullo, you know that?" asked Leroy, taking the answer as read. "Why can't you just ask a simple question, in stead of hitting me with all this hype?" Danny grinned sheepishly. "Sure, Leroy. Do you and Coco want to do a number together in the show on Friday?" "You hiring"?" "Just a little organising on the side." answered Danny. "I'm doing MC, so I'm putting a few acts together, asking round." "I'm already booked. Coco too." Danny's face dropped at the news, then his forehead wrinkled questioningly. "You and Coco are doing a show already? So where's the action?" "Bruno's, musclehead," replied Leroy, deadpan. "I already been asked. I already said yeah." He anticipated Danny's question. "Coco too. Man, I hope you get yourself together by Friday or you're going to be US not MC." Leroy smiled, smartly brought his hand up underneath Danny's reassembled pile of papers, and disappeared round the corner as they exploded once more in the air in a shower of white. Lydia nearly fell over his crouching figure as she turned into the corridor. She scowled at him as she looked up from his position on all fours. "Try taking a little more care where you choose to practise your animal impressions, Mr. Amatullo," she said pointedly. "Some of us are getting a little old for emergency somersaults." "Sorry, Miss Grant," said Danny, gathering his papers and standing up. "I'm kind of glad I ran into you-sorry, no pun intended. Has Bruno asked you to his party yet, this Friday coming? We're putting on a little entertainment to mark the occasion-" "I heard," said Lydia, cutting him short. "I also heard that you're the evening's comic. But don't worry-I'm still coming." Lydia moved off down the corridor, leaving Danny staring after her. "What am I?" he said to himself. "Telepathic all of a sudden?" He didn't have any time to answer before Doris and Montgomery collided with him. The papers scattered across the corridor once more. "Honestly," said Doris. "This guy will do anything for a cheap laugh. Anybody ever tell you slapstick's a dying art?" "He should know," added Montgomery. "He probably killed it." Danny clutched the rather dilapidated pile of papers. "Everybody's feeding my complexes today." Doris and Montgomery took him by the arms, one either side, and walked him away down the corridor. "Hey, listen," said Doris in a consoling tone, "if you can't let your complexes hang out with your friends, let's face it, who else is going to want you?" "But, Danny," said Doris, with a hurt look on her face, "we're only thinking of you. The less organising you have to do, the more time you have to spend on your act." Danny softened. "Yeah, I suppose so. I hadn't looked at it that way." "Besides," added Montgomery, with an impish grin, "we reckoned your act might need a little work on it." Danny sighed in exasperation as Montgomery's and Doris's laughter pealed in his ears. "Friends," he said. The sound of a guitar wailed and cut across the silence of the room, the notes licking the walls like tongues of flame, snaking back across the floor with an electronic howl as the back beat cut in, punctuating, pointing up the music. Leroy and Coco moved to the sound of the tape as their movement sliced into the trailing stream of notes, following the punched-out pattern of the bass and drums. Horns blew, striking out across the landscape of sound, pushing arms and legs in time with the rivetting noise of rock. The music moved into gear... Coco broke away, stabbed a finger at a button, filled the room with silence, the music vanishing into thin air. "Can we try that again?" she mused. "I'm not too happy about the way we lead into that last sequence. It doesn't flow right somehow." "Too jerky," conceded Leroy. "Maybe we need to lead into it earlier, give us more chance to turn and then, wham!-straight in." "Let's do it." agreed Coco. She and Leroy had been working over the same phrases of music for the last half hour. Neither appeared to notice the passage of time. They were used to each other's high standards and neither were happy to leave it, gloss over the problems, until it was just right. Coco rewound the tape. The guitar split the air once more with its descending wail. The two dancers came alive, shimmered into life, electricity running through their limbs as they connected with the sound. Unseen, Lydia had entered the room and stood by the door watching with interest, noting the intense concentration of the faces of her prize students. Coco stopped the music again. "How about this?" she asked Leroy, demonstrating her idea. Her eye caught Lydia. "Don't stop." said Lydia, "it"s looking good. Is this for Bruno's?'" "That's right,"' said Leroy. "Since you're here." Coco said, you wouldn't mind watching, would you, maybe giving us a little guidance? It's kind of hard being objective when you're involved in the thing yourself." Lydia smiled. "Sure honey, go right ahead. I'm watching. Try it once all through so I can get an idea of what you're aiming for." Coco and Leroy took up positions for the start, having rewound the tape to the beginning. The tape gave a light hiss and ran on through the leader tape until it hit sound. As the music built. and Leroy and Coco went through the steps. Lydia watched with her trained eye, foot tapping to the beat, lyrics running over the melody like a current of water over rocks. You've got to keep on You've got to keep believing The music ended, dancing ceased, giving way to Lydia's applause. Coco and Leroy looked pleased, knowing Lydia's appreciation would certainly not be insincere, empty praise. "You two are going to be the star attractions," said Lydia, as she walked over to them. "Just one or two points to make it flow more easily...." The basement at Bruno's house buzzed with activity. Decorations had transformed the room into a festive grotto, the atmosphere completed with an array of coloured lights which Montgomery had spirited up to illuminate the stage area, and the air was alive with the noise of electronic humming as Bruno and Montgomery rigged the microphones, amplifiers and speakers that proliferated in the small space. Danny was running through his routine. So the oil sheik sits in the dentist's chair and says, `Drill anywhere - I feel lucky today', which reminds me of the plastic surgeon who wanted to work in the Middle East, but he could only work at night in case he melted. And then there was-" Hey, Danny, Danny!" It was Doris, looking out of breath, her hair windswept and sprinkled with snow. Danny, annoyed at being interrupted, was about to voice his displeasure, but halted when he saw the worried look on her face. At that moment Lydia was trying to console a very upset Coco who sat nursing her strapped up foot. "It happens to us all, one time or another," comforted Lydia. "That's right," agreed Lydia. "What's done is done. Sometimes we have to face up to disappointments and just accept them. Something happens and there's no going back, no way, so you have to take what comes and settle for the way it is." "Nobody's blaming you," Lydia went on. "Anyhow, I don't see that this stops you from going to the party and having a good time." The applause died down. The show was over and the party hummed happily. A group of people surrounded the seated figure of Coco. "What's the verdict then," asked Doris, "as guest critic of the evening?" Coco, her spirits revived, looked round her circle of friends. They waited expectantly. "Well," she began, "I do believe Mr. Amatullo actually made me laugh, and as for Miss Grant-I'd say my understudy has a great future as a dancer."
Thanks to Elaine Prescott for typing this up for the site.
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